Dark obsession

I wasn’t supposed to be in his office at 9PM. The rule was clear on day one of my internship at Blackwood Corp: _Do not stay late. Do not talk to the CEO. Do not look him in the eye._ Damien Blackwood didn’t run a company. He ran an empire. And empires didn’t have time for 22-year-old interns who spilled coffee. But the quarterly reports were due at 8AM, and my boss quit today. So here I was, drowning in spreadsheets, when the glass doors slid open. He didn’t knock. CEOs like Damien didn’t knock. “Who are you.” Not a question. A demand. I jerked so hard my pen flew. My eyes shot up—straight into his. Dark suit. No tie. Sleeves rolled to his elbows like he’d been fighting the building itself. 5’11 of pure arrogance, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, and eyes that looked like they’d never asked for permission in his life. “E-Elara Vance, sir. Intern. Marketing.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. Damien Blackwood stared at me for 3 seconds too long. The kind of stare that stripped you bare and decided if you were worth the trouble. “Everyone’s gone.” “Yes sir.” “Then why are you still here.” “Because someone has to finish the Q3 reports or 200 people won’t get paid on Friday.” His eyebrow lifted. The first crack in that marble face. He walked in. Closed the door behind him. The sound was too loud. “You have 20 minutes.” He dropped his briefcase on the desk. Didn’t ask. Just took the chair across from me like he owned my space. Because he did. “Show me.” My hands shook as I pulled up the files. I could smell his cologne. Cedar and something expensive and dangerous. For 15 minutes it was just the clicking of keys. Me explaining. Him not blinking. Then he leaned forward. “Wrong.” “What?” “Column G. Your formula is off by 0.4%. That’s a $4 million error.” My stomach dropped. “Oh my god—I—” “Fix it.” I fixed it. My fingers flew. My heart was in my throat. When I hit save, I finally breathed. “There.” Damien looked at the screen. Then at me. “You’re the intern who spilled coffee on my assistant last week.” I wanted to die. “That was an accident—” “It cost us a $2M client meeting.” “I know. I’m sorry.” “Sorry doesn’t pay bills, Ms. Vance.” He stood. Towered over me. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes and that was a mistake because up close he was worse. Older. 34 maybe. And tired in the way only men who carried entire companies got tired. “You’re fired.” The word hit like ice water. I blinked. “Sir?” “You heard me. Pack your things. Security will escort you out.” My chest caved in. Three months of 16-hour days. My tuition. My rent. Gone. “Please. I need this job. I’ll do anything. Work weekends. Overtime. No pay. Just—” “Anything?” His voice dropped. Low. Dangerous. I nodded, desperate. “Anything.” Damien tilted his head. Studying me like I was a problem he hadn’t solved yet. Then he smiled. It wasn’t nice. “Good. Because I’m not firing you from Blackwood Corp, Ms. Vance.” He walked around the desk. Stopped right behind my chair. I could feel his heat. “I’m firing you from thinking you can leave at 9PM with work half-done.” His hand came down on the desk next to mine. Not touching me. But close. Too close. “You’re not an intern anymore. You’re my personal assistant. Effective immediately. $120k salary. You work when I work. You stay when I stay.” I couldn’t breathe. “That’s— that’s a promotion. You just said—” “I said you were fired.” He leaned down. His breath brushed my ear and I shivered. “What I didn’t say was that I was done with you.” He straightened. Picked up his briefcase. “Be at my penthouse at 6AM tomorrow. We have a flight to Dubai. Don’t be late.” The door closed behind him. I sat there, shaking, staring at the $4 million spreadsheet. My arrogant CEO didn’t fire me. He claimed me. And I had no idea if I should run... or say thank you. --- *END CHAPTER 1*