Maeve gathered her tablet and turned to leave Cassian’s office, her heels clicking toward the door with triumphant precision. Every step felt like a victory lap. She was no longer just an employee; she was the woman who would soon hold the Blackwood name.
"Miss Williams," Cassian’s voice stopped her mid-stride. It was low, smooth, and carried a dangerous edge that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up.
She turned back slowly, a perfectly manicured brow arched in practiced boredom. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood? Do you have more spreadsheets for me to conquer?"
Cassian leaned back against the edge of his massive mahogany desk, crossing his arms. He didn't look at his tablet; he looked directly at her. "We never quite finished our conversation about your… evening correspondence. The one that arr
