The Last Woman He could Love

The rain had a way of making London feel heavier than it already was. For Aria Hale, it sounded like the world was weeping with her. She pulled her thin sweater tighter around her body as she stood under the old bus shelter, shivering from a cold that had nothing to do with the weather. Her shoes were soaked. Her bag was torn. Her eyes were red from crying, and she refused to admit she’d done it. It was her birthday. And she had no one to tell. The bus she was meant to take had broken down hours ago. She was now late for the temporary cleaning job she had fought so desperately to keep. If she lost this one, there would be nothing left. Her stomach twisted in fear. She couldn’t lose another job. She couldn’t survive another loss. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and forced herself to walk toward the building she was assigned to. The building was impossibly tall. Dark glass. Cold edges. A skyscraper that looked like it swallowed people whole. Blackwood Corporation. The most powerful private company in London. Owned by the coldest, cruelest man she had heard of. Aria swallowed hard. The lobby felt like ice the moment she stepped inside. Marble floors. Security guards who didn’t blink. People in suits moving like ghosts with expensive shoes. She felt like a stain on the floor. “Name?” the receptionist asked without looking up. “Aria Hale,” she whispered. The woman finally looked at her and looked annoyed by what she saw. “You’re late.” “I’m I’m sorry. The bus” “No excuses. You’re assigned to the top floor. Mr. Blackwood’s office.” Aria froze. “W-who?” The receptionist sighed. “Damon Blackwood. Go.” Her feet turned to stone. Damon Blackwood. The billionaire whose name people said looked like a threat. The man known for ending careers with one phone call. The villain of every business rumor. Aria wanted to run. But hunger pushed her forward. The elevator doors opened to a silent, darkened corridor. A place that felt like it didn’t welcome sunlight. Her breath shook. She entered the office slowly. It was enormous but cold. Everything was black, silver, and glass. A room without warmth. And then she saw him. Standing by the window. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark suit molded to a frame carved by power. Hands clasped behind him. A presence that filled the room before he even spoke. Damon Blackwood. His voice sliced through the silence without even turning around. “You’re late.” Aria’s heart stopped. “I—I’m sorry, sir” “You’re not here to speak. You’re here to work.” His tone was cold enough to cut skin. “There is glass on the floor. Clean it.” Aria looked down. From a shattered crystal decanter. Alcohol spread across the floor like spilled blood. She kneeled quickly, her knees hitting the hard ground, and reached for the shards with shaking hands. She didn’t notice he had turned until she felt his eyes on her. Sharp. Dark. Unforgiving. “Use gloves,” he said, irritation deep in his voice. “I don’t need an injury report today.” She nodded quickly, scrambling for the gloves in her bag. Her hands trembled as she worked. She could feel his gaze. Heavy. Cold. Studying her like a strange creature he didn’t understand. “Why are your hands shaking?” he asked suddenly. “I—I’m just cold,” she whispered. “Or scared.” Her breath caught. He stepped closer. Slowly. Predator-slow. Her body froze in place. He crouched slightly, his face nearing hers not gently, but calculatingly. “Tell me,” he murmured in a voice smooth like silk but sharp underneath, “Are you afraid of me?” She swallowed. Her voice barely existed. “Yes.” The corner of his mouth lifted not in a smile. Something darker. A man who liked knowing he was feared. “Good,” Damon said softly. “Fear keeps people useful.” Her heart cracked. He stood up. “Finish quickly. I don’t tolerate weakness in my building.” Aria lowered her head. She didn’t see the moment Damon paused at the doorway. Or the strange flicker that crossed his expression. A flicker he crushed instantly. Because Damon Blackwood didn’t feel it. He didn’t care. And the fragile girl kneeling on the cold floor meant absolutely nothing. At least… that was what he believed. Until that day she would become the only weakness he had.