Chapter 2: War and Coffee
616 Words
Ivy walked into Blackwood Enterprises the next morning, sipping her favorite caramel macchiato, and mentally preparing herself for another round of torture—a.k.a. working for Adrian Blackwood.
After yesterday’s bombshell about his arranged fiancée, her curiosity had reached dangerous levels. This was like a drama series unfolding in real-time, and she was front-row, VIP seating.
Her best friend Emma had practically screamed when Ivy spilled the news over the phone last night.
“An arranged engagement?!” Emma had shrieked. “What is he, royalty? Mafia? Oh my God, Ivy, you HAVE to find out more!”
Which was precisely what Ivy intended to do.
She pushed open the door to Adrian’s office without knocking—because knocking was for people who feared death, and she was a woman of courage.
Adrian didn’t even look up from his desk. “Miss Dawson, I’m not in the mood for whatever nonsense you’re about to say.”
She took a long, slow sip of her coffee. “Wow. Rude.”
“Out.”
“But I just got here.”
Adrian finally lifted his head, pinning her with a glare that could curdle milk. “What do you want?”
Ivy plopped into the chair across from him, crossing her legs. “So, tell me about your fiancée.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched. “No.”
She grinned. “That’s not a no, that’s a ‘I don’t want to, but I know she’ll annoy me until I do’.”
“Ivy.”
“Oh, now it’s just Ivy?” she teased. “Not Miss Dawson? I feel honored.”
Adrian exhaled sharply. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“No, but I love gossip.” She leaned forward. “Who is she? Is she nice? Do you even like her?”
Adrian’s expression remained unreadable. “It’s a business arrangement.”
Ivy gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, so it is like a K-drama. Do your parents hate each other? Are you being forced to marry to save the company? Are you secretly a chaebol heir?!”
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Miss Dawson, I swear—”
“Fine, fine.” She held up her hands. “I’ll behave. For now.”
Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Good.”
Ivy waited exactly two seconds. “Soooo, does she at least know you’re an emotionally unavailable workaholic?”
Adrian’s glare could’ve melted steel. “Get. Out.”
Ivy cackled, skipping out of his office like she hadn’t just poked the metaphorical bear.
This was too much fun.
The Battle of Lunch Orders
Ivy was typing away at her desk when Adrian’s voice rang through the intercom.
“Ivy.”
She smirked. Ah, he’s reached his breaking point. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
Silence. Then, in a voice so controlled it was almost dangerous, Adrian said, “Where is my lunch?”
Ivy feigned innocence. “Your lunch? Why, whatever do you mean?”
“I mean,” Adrian said slowly, “that I ordered a grilled chicken salad, and what I received was…” He paused. “A double bacon cheeseburger with extra fries.”
Ivy gasped. “Oh no, that’s terrible. Who would commit such a heinous crime?”
“Ivy.”
She stifled a laugh. “Maybe it’s a sign. A message from the universe. You work too hard. Live a little. Eat some grease.”
Adrian’s door slammed open, and he strode out, holding up the offending burger like it was a crime scene.
“You think this is funny?” he said, voice dangerously low.
Ivy leaned back in her chair. “Hilarious, actually.”
- Writer
