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2162 Words
The days that followed were an endless cycle of impossible deadlines, grueling expectations, and the constant pressure of working under a man who seemed incapable of any emotion besides cold detachment.
Alexander Blackwood was ruthless.
Every morning, I arrived earlier than I should have, hoping to stay ahead of whatever insane tasks he would throw my way. Every night, I left the office hours after everyone else, my legs aching from standing too long, my mind exhausted from trying to keep up with him.
And still, it never seemed to be enough.
“You have five minutes to reschedule the board meeting and rearrange my dinner plans with the investors in Dubai,” he said one afternoon, his voice clipped as he glanced at his watch.
I barely stopped myself from gaping. “Five minutes?”
His cold blue eyes lifted to mine. “Four now.”
I wanted to strangle him.
Instead, I nodded sharply, grabbed my phone, and started dialing.
---
I managed.
Barely.
But I never let him see me struggle.
I refused to let him win.
Even if, sometimes, I wondered if I was in over my head.
Because working for Alexander Blackwood wasn’t just exhausting—it was dangerous.
Not in a physical way. No, this was something else.
It was the way he watched me sometimes, his gaze lingering just a second too long.
The way his voice dipped lower when he gave me orders, sending shivers down my spine.
The way my pulse jumped when he got too close.
I hated it.
I hated him.
And yet, I couldn’t ignore the tension that crackled in the air whenever we were in the same room.
It was infuriating.
It was intoxicating.
And worst of all…
It was impossible to stop.
---
It was past midnight when I finally shut down my computer, rubbing my temples as I gathered my things.
Everyone else had gone home hours ago. Even the janitorial staff had finished their rounds.
Only one office still had its lights on.
His.
I should have ignored it.
But as I walked toward the elevator, I hesitated.
And before I could talk myself out of it, I turned around and knocked.
A low, commanding voice called from inside.
“Enter.”
I pushed the door open.
Alexander Blackwood sat at his desk, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone.
He looked… almost human.
Almost.
He didn’t glance up right away, instead finishing whatever he was typing before slowly looking at me.
“What is it, Miss Carter?”
I hesitated. “I just… I noticed you were still here.”
His brow arched. “And?”
I swallowed. “You’ve been working nonstop. You should go home.”
For a moment, he just stared at me.
Then, to my absolute shock, he laughed.
It was a low, dark sound, as if the idea of someone telling him what to do was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.
“Go home?” he echoed, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Is that an order?”
I stiffened. “No. It’s—”
“Because I don’t take orders, Miss Carter.” He leaned back in his chair his fingers steepled. “And certainly not from you.”
Heat burned through me—frustration and embarrassment.
I clenched my jaw. “I was just trying to help.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Why?”
I blinked.
Why?
Because it was past midnight. Because no matter how infuriating he was, he was still human.
Because despite everything, there was a part of me that wanted to understand him.
But I couldn’t say any of that.
So I forced a smirk and crossed my arms. “Because if you drop dead from exhaustion, I’ll be out of a job.”
His lips twitched.
It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close.
“Duly noted.”
A silence stretched between us.
And then, suddenly, he stood.
I tensed as he walked around the desk, stopping just inches away.
I could smell his cologne.
I could feel the heat radiating off him.
And when he spoke, his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.
“I suggest you go home, Miss Carter.”
I swallowed.
“I—”
He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my skin.
“For your own sake.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
But he did.
With a final glance, he turned away, walking back to his desk as if nothing had happened.
As if he hadn’t just unraveled me without even touching me.
I exhaled sharply, turning on my heel and walking out before I did something reckless.
Like kiss my boss.
Like beg him to ruin me.
Because this?
This was playing with fire.
And I was dangerously close to getting burned.
---
Every time I closed my eyes, I replayed the moment in his office. The way Alexander Blackwood had stood so close, the way his voice had dropped to that dangerously low tone, the way he had told me to go home—for my own sake.
It wasn’t a warning.
It was a challenge.
And I had walked away.
But the worst part?
I wanted to go back.
I wanted to see how far he would push me.
How far I would let him.
It was reckless.
It was wrong.
And yet, when I stepped into the office the next morning, my body buzzed with anticipation.
Would he mention it?
Would he pretend it never happened?
Would I?
I walked past the receptionist, forcing myself to look calm and collected. But as I rounded the corner toward my desk, my breath caught.
Because there he was.
Alexander Blackwood stood outside his office, speaking with someone on the phone. His expression was unreadable, his posture relaxed but firm. That same tailored suit hugged his tall frame, making him look every bit the powerful CEO he was.
His gaze flicked to me.
My stomach tightened.
It was a brief glance. A second—maybe less.
But it was enough.
Because I felt it.
That tension. That unspoken thing between us.
And I knew, without a doubt—he felt it too.
---
The day passed painfully slow.
He barely spoke to me.
He gave me work, sure—an impossible list of tasks, as always. But there was no acknowledgment of last night.
No mention of the way he had stood too close.
The way his voice had dipped.
The way my pulse had betrayed me.
By the time noon rolled around, I was restless, frustrated, and—God help me—a little disappointed.
I wanted to be relieved.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, I was just irritated.
I tapped my pen against my desk, staring at my screen, trying to focus.
It didn’t work.
Because all I could think about was him.
His hands. His voice. His lips—
Stop it.
I exhaled sharply and pushed away from my desk. I needed a distraction.
Coffee. That was safe.
I grabbed my purse and headed toward the elevator, my heels clicking against the floors.
The break room was empty when I entered.
Perfect.
I poured myself a cup, inhaling the rich scent. The warmth felt good against my fingers.
Maybe I was overthinking things.
Maybe last night had just been a slip.
A moment of weakness.
Maybe—
The door clicked shut.
I froze.
I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
The air shifted.
The room felt smaller.
And then—his voice.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
I turned, my fingers tightening around the coffee cup.
Alexander Blackwood stood just inside the break room, watching me with those sharp blue eyes.
“I haven’t,” I lied.
He stepped closer.
My breath caught.
“Yes, you have.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I’ve been working.”
“Hmm.” He tilted his head, considering me. “Good.”
Another step.
I pressed back against the counter, the cool surface biting into my skin.
This was dangerous.
This was a mistake.
But I couldn’t move.
His gaze dropped—to my lips, to my throat.
Then back to my eyes.
His voice dipped lower.
“You should be careful, Miss Carter.”
I swallowed. “Of what?”
He leaned in, just enough to make my pulse race.
“Me.”
I should have laughed. I should have pushed past him, walked away, ended this now.
But I didn’t.
Because the truth was—
I wasn’t afraid of him.
I was afraid of myself.
Afraid of what I wanted.
Afraid that if he touched me, even once—
I wouldn’t stop him.
The silence stretched between us.
And then, finally, he stepped back.
Just like that.
As if nothing had happened.
As if he hadn’t just unraveled me with a few words. Again.
He turned toward the door.
And then—without looking back—
“Don’t keep me waiting.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
And I was left there, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Breathless.
Shaken.
And absolutely, completely doomed.
I spent the rest of the day trying—and failing—to focus.
Every time I blinked, I saw him.
Every time I breathed, I felt him.
The heat of his body. The intensity of his gaze. The warning in his voice.
"You should be careful, Miss Carter."
I wasn’t careful.
Not even close.
I stole glances at him through the glass walls of his office, watched the way he moved, the way he barely acknowledged me for the rest of the day.
Like he hadn’t cornered me in the break room.
Like he hadn’t left me completely wrecked.
By the time the clock struck seven, I was exhausted.
And yet, when I saw the notification pop up on my screen—
Alexander Blackwood: My office. Now.
—my pulse skyrocketed.
I took a slow breath, trying to steady myself.
I could handle this.
I had to handle this.
So I stood, straightened my skirt, and made my way to his office.
---
He was waiting.
Seated behind his massive desk.
I swallowed and stepped inside.
“You wanted to see me?”
He gestured to the chair in front of him. “Sit.”
I hesitated, but sat.
Silence stretched between us.
His blue eyes locked onto mine.
Then—
“You want this job, don’t you?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“This job,” he repeated. “You want it.”
Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle.
“Yes,” I said carefully. “Of course.”
His lips twitched.
Not quite a smile.
Not quite anything.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then let’s talk about what happened earlier.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“I—”
“I crossed a line.”
The confession came smoothly, without hesitation.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“I should have kept my distance,” he continued. “I should have ignored it. Ignored you.”
I felt like I had stopped breathing.
"But I didn’t,” he said softly.
No.
He hadn’t.
And neither had I.
His gaze darkened, his voice turning quieter.
“Tell me to stop.”
My stomach flipped. “What?”
“Tell me to stop this.”
His jaw was tight, his body rigid.
“If I’m making you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “say the word, and I’ll never touch you. Never come near you again.”
I stared at him.
Everything inside me screamed to say it.
To walk away.
To shut this down before it was too late.
But the words never came.
Because I didn’t want him to stop.
And God help me—
He knew it.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Something dark.
Something victorious.
He stood.
Walked around the desk.
Stopped just in front of me.
And then—
He reached down.
Slowly. Deliberately.
His fingers brushed my jaw.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
His touch was warm and Gentle. Completely at odds with the hard, ruthless man I had come to know.
But it was his eyes that destroyed me.
Because in that moment—
There was nothing cold about them.
No control.
No restraint.
Just raw, unfiltered want.
And it was all for me.
His thumb dragged across my lower lip.
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
Then, his voice—soft, but full of command.
“Still want me to stop?”
I should have said yes.
But I didn’t.
And I knew—
I had just made my biggest mistake yet.
---
- Writer
