TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

Lexi stepped into the office like she'd just entered a vault.

The air was different here — still, sterile, but charged.

No clutter. No color. Just black wood, cool steel, and silence wrapped in tension.

The door whispered shut behind her.

Across the room, Mr. Blackwood looked up from his desk. His expression didn't shift. He didn't rise. He didn't even pause.

Just said, "Miss Thompson."

Her palms were damp inside her sleeves.

"Good morning, sir."

"Have a seat."

She did — carefully. Quietly. Every movement measured.

He tapped the folder in front of him once. "Your proposal."

"Yes. I brought the updated version with line edits and backup options," she said, sliding the second copy toward him. "Plus projections through Phase Two and some venue overlay drafts."

He didn't reach for the file. His gaze stayed on her — sharp, cutting, but not unkind.

"Summarize the key shifts."

Lexi straightened her shoulders. "I refined the guest flow so that arrivals are staggered, which gives us tighter control over press visuals and VIP positioning. The live sequence was moved thirty minutes earlier to allow more breathing room for transitions, and the after-hours lounge concept has been swapped for an exclusive terrace experience with curated brand touchpoints."

A pause.

Then he asked, "Why the change?"

"Because the new version eliminates bottlenecks, re-centers the focus on legacy, and keeps high-value guests engaged without overcrowding."

He leaned back, just slightly. "And the budget?"

"Still on target," she said. "I renegotiated with Celeste & Co. The new quote saved us over eight thousand. That's noted on Page Seven."

Mr. Blackwood finally reached for the folder. Opened it.

The sound of the paper shift might as well have been thunder.

Lexi's fingers were clasped tightly in her lap, but her spine stayed straight. She had rehearsed this. Over and over. But nothing had prepared her for presenting directly to him — not in a closed room, not under that unwavering gaze.

"Celeste is a top-tier vendor. Why would they shave down cost for a rookie?"

"I offered them extended post-event PR visibility, vendor spotlight placements, and two referrals. In writing."

He paused. Looked up. "You did that without clearance?"

Lexi nodded once. "I knew the limit on what I could promise. And I stayed within it."

He didn't smile. But something shifted in his eyes — the way a still surface changes when something stirs beneath.

He kept flipping through.

"And the visual theme? Midnight blue and gold?"

"Yes."

"Explain it."

"Midnight blue is gravitas. Weight. Confidence without arrogance. And gold is legacy. Clean, not loud. Together, they don't just look expensive — they look intentional. Like they belong in a room where history is being made."

His gaze flicked up again. A full second. Maybe two.

"You're not bad at this," he said finally.

It wasn't warm. But it wasn't cold.

Lexi felt her breath catch — not from nerves, but from something else.

A flicker of belief.

"I didn't come to be average," she said softly. "I came to matter."

Silence.

He closed the folder and set it down.

"You've only been here three weeks," he said. "Most people in your position are still trying to figure out the coffee machine."

Lexi raised a brow slightly. "I figured that out week one. It only works if you hit the start button twice."

Was that… the barest hint of amusement in his eyes?

It was gone before she could confirm it.

"You'll lead the internal Gala review next week," he said. "Present this to the senior team. Ava will arrange it."

Lexi blinked. "Me? Present it?"

"Unless you think you're not ready."

"No, I— I'm ready."

"Then we'll see."

He rose.

She followed suit instinctively.

But as she stepped back, hand brushing the door handle, he spoke again.

"Miss Thompson."

She paused.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwood?"

His eyes held hers. Unflinching. Measured.

"You don't need to impress anyone with how prepared you are. But you should know… it shows."

Her throat tightened.

"Thank you, sir."

She left without stumbling. Without hesitating.

But as the door closed behind her, Lexi knew something had changed — not in the office, not in the project — but in the air between them.

The door clicked behind her with finality, muffling the hum of power inside.

For a moment, Lexi stood still in the hallway. Heart pounding. Folder pressed tightly to her side. Her mind replayed every second of that meeting — the questions, the silence, the way he looked at her like he was evaluating something more than a proposal.

Her reflection in the black elevator doors stared back — calm, composed, a little breathless.

And then, quietly…

"Even diamonds feel pressure, Lex," her mother's voice echoed in her memory. "Just don't let it crack you."

Lexi exhaled.

Not cracked. Not even close.

She'd held her own in the lion's den — and walked out taller.

Whatever this day brought next… she'd earned her place here.

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out onto the main floor.

The usual hum of voices dipped — just a notch.

Camille sat inside her glass-partitioned office, legs crossed, watching with barely concealed amusement. Her lips twitched — not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. She didn't wave. Didn't nod.

Just arched a brow… and looked away.

Lexi kept walking.

She passed Vanessa's desk.

"Well," Vanessa muttered, not looking up from her screen, "that was quick."

Lexi didn't respond.

She didn't flinch. Didn't break stride.

Maya gave her a glance — not nosy, just checking.

Lexi met her eyes and gave the smallest nod. The I'm fine kind. The don't ask here kind.

And then she walked on — calm, unreadable, pulse quiet now.

Because they didn't know.

They didn't know Mr. Blackwood had said good work.

They didn't know she was about to lead the internal Gala meeting next week.

They didn't know he'd looked at her like he saw her.

They didn't need to.

Some victories were sweeter in silence.

And Lexi Thompson had just won one.