Beyond the Glass Walls

Ivy Dawson had two choices this morning—walk into Blackwood Enterprises like a professional or make it her personal mission to annoy Adrian Blackwood. She chose the latter. After all, he deserved it. The man had been nothing but a thorn in her side ever since she was hired six months ago. If she had a dollar for every time he scowled at her, she could afford to quit and buy her own island. Unfortunately, rent was due, so here she was, strutting into the office with her signature oversized glasses and a stack of reports. She made sure to let the papers thunk onto his desk loud enough to make him look up. Adrian Blackwood, in all his brooding, suit-wearing, devilishly handsome glory, barely spared her a glance. "You're late, Miss Dawson." Ivy gasped, placing a dramatic hand on her chest. "Me? Late? Mr. Blackwood, I resent that accusation. I arrived precisely at—" she checked her watch, “Oh. Well, never mind.” Adrian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Do I want to know why?" She grinned. "Probably not. But since you asked—there was a coffee emergency. Life or death situation, really. I had to rescue an innocent caramel macchiato from a tragic fate." Adrian's eye twitched. "You mean you stopped for coffee." "I saved a coffee, sir," she corrected. "Big difference." Adrian exhaled sharply and turned his piercing gaze back to his screen. "If you spent as much time working as you do talking, you might actually be a decent secretary." Ivy clutched her chest again. "Ouch. That almost hurt." "Get back to work, Miss Dawson." "Yes, sir," she saluted, spinning dramatically on her heel before heading to her desk outside his office. War at Blackwood Enterprises The rest of the morning passed in a blur of emails, scheduling, and Ivy resisting the urge to send Adrian’s business contacts GIFs of cats in suits. At exactly 11:45 a.m., she heard the dreaded sound—Adrian clearing his throat. "Miss Dawson." Ivy peeked into his office. "Yes, oh great and powerful boss man?" Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me you remembered to cancel my lunch meeting with the Petersons." Ivy blinked. "You told me to reschedule it, not cancel." Adrian’s jaw clenched. "I told you yesterday—" "Did you, though?" she interrupted. "Or did you just scowl at me like a Victorian-era vampire brooding by a fireplace?" Adrian took a slow, deep breath, like a man desperately holding onto his last thread of sanity. "Fix it." "Already did. I anticipated this would happen," she said smugly. "Moved the meeting to next Tuesday, confirmed it with their assistant, and even ordered you lunch because I knew you'd forget to eat. You’re welcome." Adrian blinked, clearly thrown off. "Oh." "Oh? That's all I get?" Ivy smirked. "A simple 'oh' after my act of sheer genius?" Adrian exhaled. "Thank you, Miss Dawson." She gasped. "Did you just thank me? Hold on, let me write this down—’Adrian Blackwood expresses human gratitude, February 7th at precisely 11:47 a.m.’" Adrian scowled. "Get out of my office." The Iceberg and the Nerd By late afternoon, Ivy was knee-deep in paperwork when a voice interrupted her. "Ivy!" She looked up to see her best friend, Emma Clarke, striding toward her desk with two iced coffees. "You," Ivy declared, snatching the drink. "Are a gift from the caffeine gods." Emma plopped into the chair beside her. "How's life under His Royal Highness Adrian the Iceberg?" Ivy groaned. "Unbearable. He’s impossible to read, barely speaks like a normal human, and I swear he’s half-robot. Like, I'm convinced if I spilled coffee on him, sparks would fly." Emma giggled. "Yet you’re still here." "Because rent exists, Emma," Ivy said dramatically. "But one day—one glorious day—I’ll be free. Until then, I'm determined to make his life as difficult as humanly possible." As if summoned by their gossip, Adrian's deep voice cut through the air. "Miss Dawson." Ivy spun her chair to face him, her expression innocent. "Yes, sir?" "You scheduled two meetings at the same time," he said, holding up his planner. Ivy gasped. "No way! Who could have possibly made such a horrible mistake?" Adrian leveled her with a stare. She sighed. "Fine, fine. I’ll fix it." Emma snickered as Adrian walked away, his sharp gaze never wavering. "He's totally onto you." "Let him be," Ivy whispered conspiratorially. "It's more fun that way." A New Problem: The Fiancée At exactly 5:59 p.m., Ivy was packing up when she heard something interesting—Adrian’s voice on the phone. "No, Elena, I don’t have time for that," he said, his tone clipped. Ivy’s ears perked up. Elena? Who’s that? "I told you, we’ll discuss it later," Adrian continued. "Yes. Goodbye." Ivy, being the nosy person she was, casually strolled past his office, pretending to drop a pen. "Oops!" she exclaimed, bending down dramatically. Adrian arched a brow. "Miss Dawson, what are you doing?" "Being clumsy, obviously," she said sweetly. "So, uh… who’s Elena?" Adrian’s expression darkened. "None of your business." "Ohhh, it is my business," she teased. "Because if you’re dating someone, I need to prepare an emergency breakup survival kit—ice cream, tissues, a playlist of sad songs…" "Ivy," he warned. She grinned. "Come on, spill. Is she a mysterious ex? A scandalous love affair? Your secret wife?" Adrian’s jaw ticked. "She’s my fiancée." Ivy froze. "Excuse me, what now?" "My arranged fiancée," he clarified. Ivy gawked. "You're in an arranged engagement? Are you secretly a prince? Do I need to start bowing?" Adrian exhaled sharply. "It’s complicated." Ivy smirked. "Well, lucky for you, I love complicated. This is going to be so much fun." He groaned. "I knew hiring you was a mistake." "Too late now, boss," she said with a wink, strolling away. As she left, she couldn’t shake one thought—Adrian Blackwood, the mysterious and unshakeable CEO, was trapped in an arranged engagement. This just got very interesting.