TAMING MR BLACKWOOD

The office buzzed louder than usual.

Lexi sat at her desk—the unfortunate middle ground between chaos and calculated cruelty. Maya's desk flanked her left, usually cluttered with mood boards, lip balm, and three half-empty cups of coffee. Camille's was to her right—pristine, sterile, and tension-laced. Camille barely acknowledged Lexi most days, except when she wanted to remind her she didn't belong.

Just ahead, Ava's desk sat slightly elevated on a low platform. She didn't need glass walls or a closed door. Her posture, her silence, and the sharp click of her pen were boundaries enough. When Ava stood, people noticed. When she walked, conversations stopped.

Lexi was used to being the new one—the stray energy between Camille's perfect posture and Maya's open laughter. But today? Today was different.

Today, Lexi was pitching her idea.

The Blackwood Foundation Gala.

And Ethan Blackwood himself was expected to attend.

She could already feel Camille's irritation bleeding into the space between their desks. Every time Lexi adjusted a slide or edited a line of copy, Camille's eyes flicked sideways. Maya noticed too, offering a subtle nudge under the table with her foot.

"Ignore her," Maya whispered. "She doesn't like when someone new has ideas."

Lexi tried to breathe past the thudding in her chest. She'd stayed up till 3 a.m. fine-tuning her proposal. This wasn't just about impressing Ava. This was about being seen—really seen.

As more than the girl who spilled coffee on the CEO.

Ten minutes before the presentation, Ava rose smoothly from her desk and crossed the floor in heels that echoed like a countdown.

"Ms. Thompson. Bring your deck. It's time."

Lexi rose, grabbing her laptop and flash drive, her pulse a steady roar. She felt Camille's gaze on her the entire walk to the meeting room.

The room was sharp and modern—white walls, black glass table, and chairs that looked like they cost more than her rent. The screen was already lit, waiting for her file.

Lexi took her place near the screen, breathing slowly, trying not to fidget.

Then, the door opened.

And he walked in.

Ethan Blackwood.

Lexi's breath hitched.

He wore a navy suit, no tie, his cuff revealing the same watch that had met her coffee weeks ago. His presence filled the room instantly—cool, controlled, devastatingly silent. He glanced once in her direction, no nod, no smirk. Just a calculated flicker of recognition.

She swallowed.

Behind him, Camille entered with effortless grace, taking a seat beside Ava like she owned the floor. Lexi noted the tight grip she had on her tablet.

Ava gave Lexi a firm nod. "You may begin."

Lexi clicked her remote. The first slide filled the screen: The Blackwood Foundation Gala: Reimagining Legacy.

She began.

"The Gala has always symbolized elegance, influence, and legacy. This year, I propose we elevate that legacy—not by discarding tradition, but by breathing new life into it."

Slides rotated smoothly: starlit ceiling projections, archival gallery walkways, interactive charity stories, tiered budget options. Her voice steadied with each word. The concept: A City Beneath Stars.

She walked them through guest experience zones, fundraising strategy, even press optics. Lexi had obsessed over every detail.

She finished with a quiet, "Thank you."

Silence followed.

Then Ethan spoke.

"Ambitious."

Lexi held his gaze. "But structured. I've outlined three scalable budget tiers with vendor options for each."

A beat passed.

Camille gave a light laugh—soft and practiced. "Of course, timelines on that kind of setup could be… optimistic. Depending on experience levels."

Ethan didn't look at her.

"She has until Friday to prove it can be done."

Camille nodded quickly. "Naturally."

Lexi remained calm. "Thank you, sir. I'll deliver."

Ethan stood.

He didn't smile.

But as he turned to leave, his eyes brushed over her one more time—just a flicker.

It felt like a challenge.

Back at her desk, Lexi sat down between Maya's silent thumbs-up and Camille's wordless disdain.

"Well?" Maya asked, spinning slightly in her chair.

Lexi exhaled slowly. "He said it's ambitious."

"He didn't tear it apart, right? That's basically praise."

Lexi gave a small smile, flipping through her notes.

Camille didn't look at her. Not until she reached for her stapler and said, tone as smooth as marble, "Presentations are easy. Execution… is where most ideas go to die."

Lexi kept her eyes on her screen. "Luckily, I'm not most."

Camille's stapler clicked once. Then twice.

And silence resumed.

That night, Lexi stayed late.

The office emptied slowly. Ava left without a word. Camille vanished early with a phone glued to her ear. Maya shot her a heart sign before slipping out with her laptop under one arm.

Lexi was alone.

The city lights blinked through the windows as she reopened her Gala deck. She revised timelines. Tightened budgets. Added a slide titled "Moments That Matter."

She thought about her mother. About late nights growing up with thrifted books, hand-me-down shoes, and dreams far too expensive for their zip code.

This job wasn't just about events. It was about proving that girls like her didn't need a legacy to build one.

She printed out her draft and slid it into a clear folder, leaving it on Ava's desk with a note:

Updated pitch deck with tiered logistics. Feedback welcome.

She shut down her computer. Slipped her arms into her coat.

Before leaving, she paused by the stairwell window, gazing down at the city pulsing beneath her.

Somewhere in a corner office or a penthouse suite, Ethan Blackwood probably wasn't thinking about her at all.

But she was thinking about him.

Not because of his power, or the way he could silence a room with a look. But because, for the first time, she hadn't backed down in front of someone like him.

And that meant something.

Her phone buzzed in her bag.

A voice note.

It was her mom.

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

Lexi listened to it twice.

Her throat tightened.

She wasn't sure what would happen next. Whether her idea would survive the week. Whether Ethan Blackwood would ever look at her as more than just a girl who spilled coffee on him and dared to speak up.

But she knew this much: she wasn't quitting.

She pressed the elevator button. Took a deep breath.

And whispered to herself, voice steady:

"Let them think I'm too much. I was never trying to be small."