TAMING MR BLACKWOOD

Lexi didn't sleep much the night before. Her nerves were still humming from the meeting — not because of the assignment, but because of him.

Mr. Blackwood.

The man whose luxury suit now had a history with her coffee.

The same man who had sat silently during her interview, cool and unreadable. Every move he made was measured. Every glance, controlled. He hadn't acknowledged their awkward encounter at all.

And that rattled her more than anything.

Because she could feel it. In the way his eyes had met hers for a fraction too long. Unreadable. Calculating.

Like a storm deciding whether to pass… or strike.

She was up by 5:30 a.m.

Not because she needed to be, but because her body refused to settle. She stared at the ceiling of her tiny apartment, listening to the city start to wake up — the faint hum of traffic, the distant honk of a cab, someone yelling at a dog three floors down.

Lexi finally dragged herself out of bed and stood in front of her wardrobe, critically eyeing her reflection.

She wasn't the girl from a month ago anymore. Not the freelancer bribing the landlord with cupcakes and last-minute deposits. Not the girl who used to iron her blazer with a straightener because her iron was busted.

She tugged on a cream blouse, tucked it into navy high-waisted pants, and pulled her curls into a clean updo. Clean lines. Confident frame.

Fake it till you make it.

She paused by the mirror and whispered, "You belong here."

Even if every nerve in her body still wasn't sure.

Maya whistled when Lexi arrived at her desk.

"Okay, Planner Barbie. Who are you trying to seduce today — the board or the interns?"

Lexi smirked, slipping off her coat. "Neither. Just trying not to get eaten alive."

"Well, you're halfway there. You look expensive."

"I feel like expired milk."

Maya giggled. "You always do this before big stuff. Freak out, then kill it."

Lexi raised a brow. "When have I killed anything around here?"

"Yesterday. When Ava nodded instead of scowled? That was huge."

Lexi gave a wry smile but didn't say what she was really thinking — that the stakes were higher now. That if she messed up, it wouldn't just be a bad review or a lost client. It would be her whole future unraveling before she even had the chance to prove herself.

Their day began with a strategy session — or what Maya called, "war plans masked as PowerPoint."

Camille swept in fifteen minutes late, her heels stabbing the floor like accusations. Her lips were glossy and sharp, like she was always two seconds away from snapping at someone.

She didn't even glance at Lexi.

Ava did.

"Ms. Thompson," she said, already flipping through her tablet. "Did you finish the preliminary folder I requested?"

Lexi nodded and passed it forward, trying not to grip it too tightly.

Ava scanned the document — budget estimations, vendor profiles, venue sketches, a few aesthetic inspiration boards. Then came a pause. Just long enough to make Lexi's stomach sink.

"This is… sufficient."

Lexi dared to breathe.

Camille tilted her head, barely hiding her sneer. "Sufficient doesn't win us the Gala, Ava."

Ava gave her a glance. "We're not winning anything yet."

The meeting moved on to supplier negotiations and media list rotations, but Lexi's mind was elsewhere. Her fingers itched to scribble out ideas, fix flaws, build something worthy.

She was tasked with creating the first pitch for the Gala. A presentation that would be delivered to Ethan Blackwood himself. One shot to make an impression that couldn't be undone.

If it worked, she'd no longer be seen as just "the new girl."

If it didn't… Camille would have her shredded and fed to the socialite wolves.

By noon, Lexi escaped to the stairwell with her notepad and earbuds. It had become her unofficial thinking spot — quiet, untouched, away from the buzz of keyboards and judgmental glances.

She sat on the second landing, fingers moving across the page. Theme ideas filled the margins:

Enchanted Night

A City Beneath Stars

Legacy Reimagined

Ivory & Smoke: A Black-Tie Masquerade

Time as Art

Each one danced at the edge of brilliance… or disaster. She couldn't tell anymore.

She rested her head against the cool wall, trying to breathe through the pressure building in her chest. The whisper of failure was louder than she'd expected.

Then — footsteps.

Sharp. Measured.

Lexi sat up just as Ethan Blackwood descended the stairs, dark suit cutting through the silence like a blade.

She froze. Of all places.

He paused when he saw her. Those eyes — silver and stormy — pinned her in place.

Lexi stood instinctively. Straightened her spine. Smoothed her shirt.

"Mr. Blackwood," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Her brain betrayed her instantly with the memory — the coffee spill, the sharp breath he'd taken, the way time had suspended itself in that café. She'd wanted to sink into the earth.

Now, she met his gaze. Proud. Ready.

His eyes flicked to her notepad, then back to her face.

"Ms. Thompson," he said evenly. "Settling in, I hope?"

Lexi gave a tight nod. "Trying my best."

"Mm." His gaze lowered to the sketches in her hand again. "Hiding from the chaos?"

"More like… chasing clarity before it runs out."

Something flickered in his expression. A faint twitch of his mouth — a ghost of a smirk. Then, like mist, it vanished.

"Good," he said, beginning to descend again. "Let's see if your work reflects that."

His voice was smooth, cold marble wrapped in velvet.

Lexi remained rooted as his footsteps faded.

He didn't ask if she was one of the new hires.

Because he already knew exactly who she was.

When Lexi reappeared on the office floor, Maya was waiting with a dramatic gasp.

"Tell me that was who I think it was," she whispered. "In the stairwell?"

Lexi didn't even slow down. "Just a man."

Maya trotted beside her. "Just a man? Girl, you had that look like you either saw your doom or your future husband."

Lexi snorted softly, lips twitching. "More like a future heart attack."

They reached their desks just as Camille strolled by, her voice overly sweet.

"Oh? You've met the CEO already? You work fast."

Lexi didn't flinch. She looked Camille dead in the eye.

"I believe in early preparation. Something I'm sure you've heard of."

Camille's eyes narrowed slightly before she turned on her heel and disappeared.

Maya leaned over and whispered, "Tell me that wasn't the cleanest clapback of the week."

Lexi smiled but didn't answer.

Inside, her pulse still hadn't returned to normal.

That night, Lexi was back in her apartment — hair down, heels kicked off, a container of lomein steaming beside her laptop.

Her Gala draft sat open, cursor blinking like a pulse.

Half-finished headings, color palettes, and half a dozen tabs on luxury floral designers filled the screen. But her mind was somewhere else — in the stairwell. In the heat of Ethan's gaze. In the ghost of that smile.

Her phone pinged. A voice note from her mom.

"Hey baby girl. Just wanted to say I'm proud of you. Keep pushing. Remember — you don't need to be perfect, just brave. Love you."

Lexi sat back, eyes burning.

Brave.

The word echoed.

She remembered her first freelance gig — a backyard engagement party where the client screamed because the peonies were the wrong shade of blush.

She remembered crying in the bathroom, blotting her eyes with paper towels, and walking out like nothing had happened.

She remembered pushing through.

And she would do it again.

She pulled her laptop closer and began typing.

No more second-guessing. No more fear.

Let Camille doubt her.

Let Ethan watch her.

She would make them all remember.

Not for a spilled coffee, not for a stairwell coincidence — but for how damn good she was at this job.