Chapter 2: The Rules
1325 Words
By ten thirty that morning, Amelia had already learned three things about Damian Blackwood.
First, he hated unnecessary meetings.
Second, he hated being interrupted.
Third—and this was the most annoying—he apparently believed coffee counted as breakfast.
She discovered the third one when she walked into his office carrying a folder and found him staring at his laptop while an untouched cup of black coffee sat beside his hand.
Amelia placed the folder on his desk.
“Your eleven o’clock meeting has been moved to two.”
Damian didn't look up.
“Why?”
“Because you have a conference call at eleven.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you ask?”
His fingers stopped moving.
He slowly lifted his eyes.
Amelia smiled politely.
“Just making sure we're communicating.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
She pointed at the coffee.
“You haven't eaten.”
“I'll eat later.”
“You said that an hour ago.”
“And?”
“And later never seems to come with you.”
His expression remained blank.
“You've been my assistant for approximately two hours.”
“Two hours and forty-three minutes.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You're keeping track?”
“I manage schedules.”
A beat of silence.
Then Damian returned to his laptop.
“Bring me the Henderson contract.”
Amelia stared at him.
“That's your response?”
“To what?”
“The food.”
“I don't need food.”
“Everyone needs food.”
“Ms. Hart.”
“Yes?”
“Contract.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
She turned toward the door.
“Amelia.”
She stopped.
It was the first time he'd called her by her first name.
She looked over her shoulder.
“Coffee,” he said.
She frowned.
“You want more?”
“No.”
He glanced at the cup.
“Replace this one.”
“With what?”
“Something drinkable.”
Amelia stared at him.
“You've been drinking that for hours.”
“Exactly.”
She couldn't tell whether he was joking.
Probably not.
“Fine.”
She left.
Damian watched the door close.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
It disappeared before anyone could see it.
The rest of the morning moved quickly.
Amelia organized meetings, answered emails, rescheduled appointments, and somehow prevented Damian from missing two important calls.
By noon, she was beginning to understand why his previous assistant had resigned after six months.
The man was exhausting.
Not because he was rude.
That would have been easier.
Damian was simply demanding.
He expected perfection without asking for it.
He remembered every detail.
Every number.
Every deadline.
Every name.
And somehow, he noticed everything.
At twelve fifteen, Amelia walked into the office carrying a sandwich.
She placed it on his desk.
Damian looked at it.
Then at her.
“What is that?”
“Lunch.”
“I didn't order lunch.”
“I did.”
His eyebrows rose.
“You ordered food for me?”
“Yes.”
“You're aware I can do that myself?”
“Clearly.”
She pointed at the sandwich.
“Yet you haven't.”
He stared at her for a moment.
Then he opened the wrapper.
Amelia turned to leave.
“Thank you.”
She stopped.
The words sounded strangely unfamiliar coming from him.
She turned around.
“You're welcome.”
Their eyes met.
Something about the moment felt different.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
Just… quieter.
Damian looked away first.
“Close the door.”
Amelia smiled faintly.
“Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Blackwood.”
At four thirty, Amelia received an unexpected message.
Come to my office.
No explanation.
She walked in.
Damian was standing beside the window, his phone in his hand.
“There is a dinner tonight.”
Amelia checked the schedule.
“I don't see one.”
“You do now.”
“With who?”
“Victor Hale.”
Amelia recognized the name.
Hale Industries was one of Blackwood International's biggest competitors.
“You're meeting him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Blackwood Hotel.”
Amelia made a note.
“Time?”
“Seven.”
“Do you need me there?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Then I'll arrange everything.”
She turned.
“Amelia.”
Again.
Her name.
She looked back.
“I want you there.”
She blinked.
“As your assistant?”
“As my assistant.”
“Okay.”
His gaze lingered on her for a second longer than necessary.
“Wear something appropriate.”
Amelia's eyebrows lifted.
“I know how to dress for a business dinner.”
“I wasn't questioning your judgment.”
“It sounded like you were.”
Damian's expression remained calm.
“Seven o'clock.”
“Seven o'clock.”
She left.
Damian watched her disappear down the hallway.
He didn't understand why he'd asked her to come.
The meeting didn't require an assistant.
He could have taken Marcus, his chief financial officer.
But he'd wanted Amelia there.
And that bothered him more than it should have.
At six fifty-five, Amelia entered the hotel restaurant.
She wore a simple black dress with a blazer over it, her hair neatly styled and her handbag resting over one shoulder.
She looked professional.
Elegant.
Nothing inappropriate.
Damian looked up when she approached.
His expression changed for the briefest second.
Then it was gone.
“You're on time.”
“I learned from this morning.”
Victor Hale stood and smiled.
“Amelia, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“Victor Hale.”
They shook hands.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Dinner began peacefully.
Business was discussed.
Numbers.
Contracts.
Expansion.
Nothing Amelia hadn't heard before.
But then Victor leaned back in his chair.
“I have to admit, Damian, I'm surprised.”
“About what?”
“You finally hired someone who can keep up with you.”
Damian's eyes flickered toward Amelia.
“She does her job.”
Victor laughed.
“That's high praise coming from you.”
Amelia tried not to smile.
Halfway through dinner, Damian's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression immediately hardened.
“Excuse me.”
He stood and walked away.
Victor watched him leave.
Then looked at Amelia.
“You should be careful.”
Amelia frowned.
“About what?”
“Working for Damian.”
She smiled awkwardly.
“Why?”
Victor lowered his voice.
“Because men like Damian don't let people get close unless they want something.”
Amelia didn't have time to respond.
Damian returned.
His expression was colder than before.
“We're leaving.”
Victor frowned.
“We haven't finished.”
“We're done.”
Damian picked up his jacket.
Amelia stood.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That didn't look like nothing.”
He looked at her.
“Get in the car.”
She hesitated.
“Mr. Blackwood—”
“Now.”
There was something in his voice she'd never heard before.
Not anger.
Fear.
Amelia followed him.
As they stepped outside, Damian's phone buzzed again.
This time, Amelia saw the message before he turned the screen away.
You can't protect her forever.
Her stomach dropped.
Damian noticed her expression.
“You didn't see anything.”
“I saw the message.”
His jaw tightened.
“Forget it.”
“Who sent it?”
“It's none of your concern.”
“Then why am I involved?”
He stopped walking.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The hotel lights reflected in his dark eyes.
“Because,” Damian said quietly, “you may already be involved.”
Amelia's heart skipped.
“What does that mean?”
Damian looked away.
“Get in the car, Amelia.”
This time, she didn't argue.
But as she followed him, one thought refused to leave her mind.
What had she just stepped into?
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD