His Ruthless Obsession

Chapter 10

DAISY’S POV

I knocked twice before pushing the door open.

Darrell was already standing by the window when I entered, his back turned, his hands tucked in his trousers pockets. I stood near the door with a notebook in my hands waiting for him.

He didn't turn around immediately, of course he didn’t. Because making people wait was probably his hobby or he had written it somewhere in his personal rule book to intimidate everyone.

Finally, he spoke.

“Close the door.”

I stepped inside fully and pushed the door shut behind me. Darrell turned around slowly, his expression was unreadable as usual. “Sit down.”

I sat.

He walked towards his desk and picked up a document. He flipped through some pages before dropping it in front of me.

“The Harrington account,” he said. “Their Legal team sent a revised proposal this morning. I need you to go through it, flag anything that contradicts the original terms and prepare a comparison summary before 4 o'clock.”

I stared at the file, it was thick. Not as thick as the Henderson file but still, it was impressively threatening.

“Four o'clock,” I repeated slowly.

“I believe there's no echo in here, Miss Carter.”

I looked up at him, and he was already watching me with that cool, unreadable expression.

“No sir,” I said carefully. “I was just confirming the deadline.”

He moved on like I had not spoken. “You will also be sitting in on the two o'clock meeting with the Harrington team, you are to write down everything important.”

My eyes widened. A meeting?

I had barely survived two days in this building and now he wants to put me in the same room with real clients? My expression must have said something because he narrowed slightly.

“Any problem?”

“N-no sir,” I quickly said.

He held my gaze for a moment, “Good.”

I picked up the Harrington file and stood. Just as I turned toward the door, his voice stopped me.

“One more thing.”

I stopped.

“Saturday evening,” he said, settling back in his chair. “There is a charity gala and Blackwood Corp has a table so you'll be attending.”

I turned around slowly. Attending?

“Sir, I…”

“It's work,” he said before I could even complete a proper sentence. “You'll assist with client management and represent the company. Make sure you dress appropriately.”

I didn't say anything.

Saturday was Aunt Clara's birthday. The very party I had promised my mum that I would attend. The same party I would be forced to be in the same space with my father, his wife and Chloe.

And now Darrell Blackwood wanted me at a gala the same night. My life had clearly decided to become something else.

“Saturday evening,” I repeated.

“Six o’clock, you'll receive the details from Sarah.” He picked up his pen and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.

I seriously wanted to argue. I wanted to explain that I already had plans, that my aunt is turning fifty-five and that I had promised my mother I would go. But looking at the calm, unbothered man sitting behind that desk, he's not the kind that cared about your personal schedule.

“Understood sir.” I said and walked out.

******************************

Back at my desk, I dropped the Harrington file beside my keyboard and pressed both palms flat against the surface.

I needed a moment.

Emily's chair was empty, which meant I had no one to complain to and honestly, that was probably a good thing. Because what could come out of my mouth would not be professional.

I sat down and opened the file.

The legal language was heavy and slow going. I read carefully and put a sticky note on every page where something looked different from what I expected the original to say.

Page seven.

Page twelve.

Page nineteen had a whole clause that made no sense. I read it three times and wrote a question mark next to it.

Emily came back a while later with two cups of coffee. She put one on my desk without saying a word.

I looked up.

"You look like you are preparing for battle," she said.

"Of course, I am," I muttered and reached for the coffee. She looked at my sticky notes and let out a low whistle.

"Harrington file?" she asked.

"Yes."

Emily straightened and wrapped both hands around her own cup. "That file has been giving the legal team problems for weeks."

I looked at her and said nothing.

She smiled. "Also, I heard you are sitting in on the two o'clock meeting."

"He told you?"

"Sarah told me." She lowered her voice. "He does not usually bring his secretary into client meetings."

I said nothing.

That was the second time someone had mentioned Darrell doing something unusual when it came to me. First Sarah said he never chose his secretary personally. Now this.

"He said I'd be taking notes," I said simply.

Emily nodded slowly, but the look on her face said she wasn't entirely convinced by that explanation. I wasn't either.

But I had a document to finish before two o'clock and an impossible family situation to figure out for Saturday, so I pushed everything else aside and went back to work.

The two o'clock meeting took place in the large glass conference room on the thirty-second floor.

By the time I arrived, three members of the Harrington legal team were already seated on one side of the long table. Two men and a woman, all polished and composed, the kind of people who looked like they had been born inside a boardroom.

Darrell was already at the head of the table, speaking quietly to one of the company's senior lawyers. He didn't look up when I entered.

I found a seat near the wall, opened my notebook and uncapped my pen.

Professional. Focused. Invisible.

That was the plan.

The meeting started and I kept up as well as I could. Darrell spoke calmly and precisely, each sentence landing with quiet authority. The Harrington team pushed back twice on separate clauses. Darrell didn't raise his voice once, but somehow both times, they ended up conceding ground without seeming to realise it.

I wrote everything down.

Clause numbers. Figures. Names. Dates.

At one point, Darrell glanced in my direction. Not long, just a brief look, as if confirming I was still keeping up.

I kept my eyes on my notebook.

The meeting lasted fifty minutes.

When it ended, the Harrington team filed out. The senior lawyer followed, leaving Darrell and me alone in the conference room.

I was still writing the last few notes when I heard footsteps approach.

I looked up.

He was standing beside the table, watching me with his usual unreadable expression. But something about his posture was slightly different. Less rigid maybe. Or perhaps I was just imagining things.

"Your notes," he said quietly. "Let me see them."

I hesitated for half a second before sliding the notebook across the table.

He picked it up.

I watched him read through the pages, his eyes moving steadily from line to line. His expression didn't change. Still no reaction. Still unreadable.

After a minute or so, he closed the notebook and placed it back in front of me.

"You missed the payment restructuring point in the third clause," he said.

My stomach dropped.

"But everything else is accurate."

I blinked.

He was already turning away, buttoning the front of his jacket, clearly preparing to leave.

"Sir."

He paused.

"Saturday," I said, forcing the word out before my nerve disappeared. "I already have a prior commitment that evening."

Darrell turned back slowly.

The look on his face wasn't anger, exactly. More like quiet surprise, as if very few people ever pushed back against his decisions once they'd already been stated.

"A prior commitment," he repeated.

"A family event," I said. "My aunt's birthday. I promised I would be there."

Silence.

Heavy and uncomfortable.

His grey eyes held mine for a long moment.

"The gala starts at six," he said finally. "It ends at nine."

I kept his gaze. "My aunt's event also starts at six."

Something moved in his expression, too quick for me to name.

Then, slowly, he said, "The gala ends at nine. You can make it to your family event afterward."

I opened my mouth.

"That's not a request, Miss Carter," he added calmly before I could say anything else.

I pressed my lips together.

I wanted to argue. I genuinely, desperately wanted to argue.

But looking at the quiet certainty on his face, I already knew I had lost this round.

"Yes sir," I said tightly.

He nodded once and walked out of the conference room without another word.

I sat alone for a moment, staring at the empty doorway.

Then I picked up my notebook, exhaled slowly and started calculating whether it was physically possible to survive a charity gala with Darrell Blackwood and still make it to Aunt Clara's birthday party before the night ended.

And more importantly, whether I could manage both without everything falling completely apart.