Trapped with Mr. Blackwell

Chapter 2 Unexpected Orders

The office felt colder than usual, but that wasn’t unusual for Lucas Blackwood’s floor. He was always cold. His presence radiated it, even when he wasn’t in the room.

I was double-checking the reports he had just rejected for the third time that morning when the door opened softly. I barely glanced up.

“Charlotte.”

I froze. Not him. Not yet.

His mother stood there instead — elegant, poised, the kind of woman who could make a room obedient with a single glance. She smiled at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Good morning,” she said. “I wanted to speak with you about… an event tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Event?”

“You’re invited,” she said lightly, almost as if it were a casual suggestion. “Lucas will be there.”

My chest tightened. Lucas. There. Tonight. Alone in a crowded room with his smug, perfect presence.

“I don’t attend events,” I said sharply. I didn’t do socializing with my boss.

“Oh, Charlotte,” she said with that slight tilt of her head that made her feel untouchable. “This isn’t optional. Consider it… a special arrangement.”

I hated her already. Why would she drag me into whatever her world was?

The rest of the day dragged in slow, torturous beats. Lucas didn’t glance my way, but I could feel his eyes on me, just the faintest weight of judgment as I moved between desks. I gritted my teeth.

Then came the email.

“Charlotte, you’re expected at the Moretti gala tonight. Dress formally. Lucas.”

I dropped the folder I was holding. Expected? I wasn’t a social accessory. I wasn’t some prize to parade at his mother’s whims.

Yet here I was, at six o’clock sharp, standing in a borrowed gown that wasn’t mine, heels pinching my feet, and the entire world of Lucas Blackwood staring back at me in a glittering ballroom.

He hadn’t noticed me yet — or so I thought.

I rounded the edge of the balcony and froze.

Lucas was there. Tall, black suit impeccable, hands in pockets, expression unreadable. And yes… even colder than the office. His eyes scanned the room, caught mine, and for a split second… he smirked.

The kind of smirk that meant trouble.

I wanted to march back out, leave, refuse, and never see him again. But something in his sharp gaze held me there, rooted like I didn’t have a choice.

And in that instant, I realized: I was officially trapped.