The Forgotten Sketch
533 Words
Amara nearly dropped her phone when the unknown number flashed on her screen during her lunch break. She'd been sitting on a park bench, picking at a sad-looking salad while flipping through job postings on her phone.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Bennett." The deep voice sent an electric current down her spine. "This is Lucian Blackwood."
Amara's mouth went dry. Her mind raced—had he noticed the business card missing? Seen her tampering with his blueprints? She was going to be fired. Blacklisted. Possibly sued.
"I—Mr. Blackwood, I can explain—"
"Be at my office tomorrow. Eight AM sharp." The line went dead before she could respond.
—
The Blackwood Global headquarters loomed over Park Avenue like a steel-and-glass monolith, its reflective surface mirroring the clouds scudding across the morning sky. Amara's stomach churned as she approached the imposing entrance, her cheap blazer and secondhand heels making her feel like an impostor.
The lobby was a study in understated luxury—soaring ceilings, a massive abstract sculpture that probably cost more than her entire apartment building, and a reception desk manned by a perfectly coiffed woman who looked Amara up and down with thinly veiled disdain.
"Amara Bennett?" a voice called. A harried-looking man in his late twenties approached, extending a hand. "Jeremy Cole, Mr. Blackwood's assistant. Follow me."
The elevator ride to the top floor was silent except for the soft hum of machinery. Jeremy kept glancing at her with a mixture of curiosity and pity that did nothing to calm Amara's nerves.
When the doors opened, Amara's breath caught. The executive floor was all sleek lines and breathtaking views, the morning sun streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased Manhattan in all its glory.
Jeremy led her to a massive corner office, knocking once before opening the door, "Ms. Bennett is here, sir."
Lucian Blackwood stood silhouetted against the skyline, his broad shoulders tense beneath a perfectly tailored suit. When he turned, his dark gray eyes pinned her like a butterfly to a board.
"You stole from me."
Amara's throat tightened. "I—"
"Then you altered my work without permission." He stalked closer, each measured step making her pulse jump. "Do you have any idea the liability issues that could—"
"It was a bad design."
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Jeremy audibly gasped. Lucian went very, very still.
Amara braced for the explosion. Instead, Lucian gestured to a large presentation board where her altered blueprint was now displayed.
"Show me."
For the next hour, Amara tore his flagship project apart, pointing out the wasted spaces, the missed opportunities for emotional connection. She spoke passionately about how luxury wasn't just about expensive materials but about how spaces made people feel, about creating moments of surprise and delight.
When she finished, the room was silent. Lucian's expression was unreadable as he studied her with those piercing eyes.
Finally, he slid a contract across the desk, "a three-month trial". "You'll report directly to me."
Amara blinked at the six-figure salary listed. "You're...hiring me?"
"No." His lips curved in a dangerous smile. "I'm giving you one chance to prove you're as good as you think you are."
- Writer
