Chapter three
1359 Words
Diana Sylvester had never been good at waiting.
Waiting for a text tested her patience. Waiting for an appointment irritated her. But standing in the reception area of her family’s fiercest competitor was pushing her toward a full-blown spectacle.
She checked her watch. Twenty-three minutes.
Twenty-three minutes since the receptionist had smiled sweetly and sent her to the office manager. The manager had handed her off to the CEO, whose assistant rerouted her to the managing director—who was now claiming the owner was "currently unavailable."
“Unavailable?” Diana repeated, folding her arms. “I was told to speak directly to the owner.”
“I understand, ma'am,” the assistant said with a tight smile. “However, he is occupied with pressing business matters.”
“Of course he is.” Diana turned to sweep her gaze across the pristine, marble-lined lobby. Everything about Blackwood Enterprises oozed untouchable wealth and ruthless market control. Her family’s company, Sylvester Group, had spent decades locked in an aggressive turf war with them. She hadn’t come here to play administrative telephone; she’d come to settle a critical contract dispute.
“Look,” Diana said, stepping up to the desk. “No message. No reschedule. I came here personally, and I’m not leaving until the person running this place hears me out.”
“Miss Sylvester, I don't have the authority—”
“Then find someone who does.”
Silence fell over the lobby. Heads turned. Diana didn't care. She had inherited a lot of traits from her father, but patience wasn't one of them.
“If I have to sit here all afternoon to get five minutes with him,” she announced, her voice echoing off the high ceilings, “that is exactly what I’m going to do.”
Before the assistant could protest, a subtle shift rippled through the room. Employees straightened. Conversations abruptly died.
The heavy glass elevator doors slid open.
A man stepped out, flanked by two aides taking rapid notes. He was tall, impeccably built, and wore a bespoke dark suit that looked effortless on him. He exuded the calm, quiet authority of someone used to having entire rooms bend around his presence. He raised a single finger, and his aides instantly fell silent.
Diana stared.
Something about him triggered a strange, quiet static in her mind—his stride, the set of his shoulders, the outline of his jaw. It wasn't an I've-seen-him-in-a-magazine kind of familiar. It was deeper.
Then his eyes swept the lobby and locked onto hers.
He froze—just for a fraction of a second—before stepping forward. Every stride was deliberate, controlled.
“What’s going on here?” his voice dropped like velvet, low and resonant.
Diana’s heart gave an inconvenient flutter. A memory flickered—dim lighting, soft bass, a voice near her ear—but she forcefully shoved it down.
“Sir,” the assistant stammered, “Miss Sylvester was insisting on seeing the owner.”
His dark eyes never left Diana’s face. “I see.”
Diana drew herself up, adjusting her blazer. “You’re the owner?”
“I am.” A faint, unreadable expression flickered across his features.
“Good. Then perhaps you can explain why your staff has been running me in circles.”
His mouth twitched. “Can you explain why you insisted on making such a grand entrance?”
“I wasn’t given a choice.”
He studied her, then let out a low, smooth exhale that turned into a subtle smile. “Fair enough. Adrian Blackwood.” He extended a hand.
The name hit her like a cold splash of water. Blackwood. The ruthless young titan who had taken the helm of Blackwood Enterprises and turned it into Sylvester Group's biggest threat.
She took his hand. His grip was warm, sending a sharp, electric shock through her skin.
Flash. A crowded hotel bar. Laughter. The smell of cedar and amber. A touch that burned.
Diana snapped her hand back a second too fast.
Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching her reaction. “I know who you are, Miss Sylvester.”
“You do?”
“You’re difficult to forget.”
She swallowed hard. Adrian turned to his staff with a brief nod. “Clear the lobby.”
Within seconds, the receptionist and assistants vanished into the side corridors.
Adrian gestured toward the glass-enclosed conference area nearby. “Let’s talk.”
Diana followed him, taking a seat across the marble table. She quickly unzipped her leather portfolio and slid a thick stack of legal documents toward him. “This is why I’m here. Clause four heavily favors Blackwood Enterprises in our joint venture proposal.”
Adrian didn't look down at the papers immediately. Instead, he leaned back, resting his chin on his knuckles. “You could have emailed this.”
“I wanted an immediate answer.”
“And you were willing to create a scene for it?”
“I get results, Mr. Blackwood.”
“I know.” He finally picked up the contract, his long fingers skimming the pages.
While he read, Diana tried to focus on business, but her pulse was racing. She studied the curve of his mouth, the sharp angle of his jaw, the depth of his eyes.
A hotel room. Whispered promises in the dark. A face she hadn't been able to recall clearly the next morning.
Her breath hitched. No. It couldn't be.
Adrian paused. He slowly lowered the contract and looked up, meeting her wide-eyed gaze. He didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes said everything.
He remembered. He had known the moment he walked out of the elevator.
“You knew,” Diana whispered, her composure slipping.
“The moment I saw you,” Adrian said quietly.
“And you let me make a scene in your lobby?”
“I wanted to see how long it would take you to put it together.”
“That isn't funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Diana looked away, heat creeping up her neck. This was supposed to be a hostile corporate negotiation, not a confrontation with the anonymous stranger she’d shared a night with months ago.
“We’re here for the contract,” she said sharply, pointing at the page. “Clause four gives your firm non-compete priority. It needs to be rewritten.”
“It stays,” Adrian countered smoothly. “Unless you offer something equal in return.”
“This is a joint venture, not a takeover.”
“Then negotiate like it.”
For the next twenty minutes, they locked horns over every terms sheet, neither backing down. Yet beneath the sharp debate, the tension in the room was palpable—a magnetic pull that neither of them could hide.
Finally, Adrian closed the folder. “I’ll have my legal team review your amendments.”
“Good.” Diana stood up immediately, grabbing her handbag. “Then we’re done here.”
“For today,” he corrected, standing as well.
Diana paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Adrian’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. “It means this isn't over, Miss Sylvester. I’ll see you at the signing.”
She didn't answer. She pulled the door open and walked out into the corridor, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor.
Once she was around the corner, out of sight of his office, she leaned against the wall and let out a shaky breath.
She had walked into Blackwood Enterprises ready for war. She just hadn't realized her enemy was the only man who had ever managed to slip past her defenses.
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