Chapter 4

I felt ridiculously hot.

The air conditioner had absolutely nothing on me or maybe I just felt really angry.

I stared back at the mirror, almost denying what stared back, because that wasn’t me.

It couldn’t be.

I used to be composed, calculated, confident, not this this raw, angry being that man made me into.

Donovan.

He hurt me.

Because I was literally on my own. Because I never asked to be treated that way.

Fuck.

It was so stupid of me to even trust him enough to get naked for him. But God, I so badly wanted it. I wanted it with him.

How Ironic. I had never felt that kind of need to be claimed by anyone, not even with my boyfriend.

But him? He was a complete stranger. A hot one.

He felt too magnetic, I didn’t know how to turn away. So I let him.

Why was I that easy for him? Why did I do that? And most importantly, why was I so angry.

I gripped tighter on the bathroom’s sink counter, the cold tile grounding me in ways I hadn’t known I needed.

My eyes sealed shut as I inhaled once again.

A beep pulled me out of the moment. I looked at my watch, the alarm glaring at me accusingly.

“SHIT!” I was late for the meeting! I haven’t even prepped properly yet.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

It was 10:05! I was so going to get fired.

I stormed out of the executive restroom, my heart pounding in my ears as I spiralled in my head.

Before I could figure out what was happening, my heels tilted to the side and I crashed right into someone.

“I am so sorry.” I quickly mouthed before lowering myself to pick up the files. “Elena, Oh my God.” I exhaled, thankful that it was her and not a ‘no-nonsense’ superior.

“Shhh! Just stop talking and get to work.” She interrupted. “Jesus. Being late on your first day wasn’t what I expected first.”

I was about to throw a leg to sprint again when she pulled be back. “Slow down, Beyoncé.” She smiled, apologetically, but her eyes held a glimpse of excitement, like she was enjoying my situation. “Here’s what you need, I picked them up from your office.”

My facial expression at that very moment didn’t fall short of just how grateful I was for her help.

“I know.” She whispered. “You’re welcome. Now hurry!”

I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the conference room, and the conversation died instantly.

Every head turned.

Every. Single. One.

My stomach dropped as I stood frozen in the doorway, clutching my files like a lifeline. The room felt ridiculously massive suddenly, too bright, too exposed, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a table that seemed to stretch on forever. Yet, even with all that space, I felt the walls caving in on me, like I was being swallowed.

“Miss Blackwood.”

His voice was cold. Sharp. Cutting through the silence like a blade.

I found him at the head of the table, and the look on his face made my blood run cold. No emotion. No warmth. Just that same icy indifference that made me feel like I was nothing. But this time, it was terrifying.

“You’re late.”

“I’m so sorry, I....”

“Sit.”

The word was a lash. Final. Non-negotiable.

My face burned as I moved forward, my heels clicking too loudly against the polished floor. I could feel every pair of eyes tracking my movement, executives in expensive suits, watching me like I was something absurd, like some ridiculous spectacle to be made fun of, muted.

“Jesus. This is humiliating.” I muttered to myself.

I tried to keep my head up, tried to look professional, but my hands were shaking and my heart was hammering so hard I thought everyone could hear it.

The only empty chair left was right beside him.

Of course it was.

I approached carefully, setting my notepad and the files down as quietly as I could before sliding into the seat. But the chair was lower than I expected.

Again!

Or maybe I was really just vertically challenged.

As I sat, my skirt rode up, way too high, exposing way too much thigh. Too much skin.

I tugged at the hem, trying to draw it down discreetly, without causing anymore unwanted attention. But it was too late for that.

Because I felt his gaze drop.

Just for a second. But I saw it. I saw him.

I saw the way his eyes flickered down to my exposed skin, the way his jaw tightened, the way his hand curled into a fist on the table.

Then he looked away so fast it was like I’d poisoned his sight.

My chest tightened. Heat flooded my face, my neck, everywhere.

He looked. He fucking looked.

But when I glanced at him again, his expression had gone cold. Completely blank and empty. Like nothing had happened. Like I was invisible.

“Continue, Marcus,” he said, his voice perfectly steady.

Marcus cleared his throat and resumed his presentation.

“As I was saying,” Marcus gestured to the screen behind him, where a property image was displayed, “the Grey Estate is going to auction next month. Ancient location recognised by the government, historic value, massive redevelopment potential. We’re looking at significant profits if we play this one right.”

He clicked to the next slide. Numbers. Projections. Revenue forecasts. “Our estimated ROI is 25% if we secure it for the right. We’re looking at a scenario where we can sell this property for three times our buy-in within the next six months. That’s how we’re gonna get returns way above 200%.”

“I’m proposing we bid aggressively. We’re talking a hundred million dollars to start, but I’d recommend we’re prepared to go as high as hundred and ten to be on the safe side if we face competition. From my calculations, no other bidder should go above hundred and five million.”

I tried to focus, tried to take notes, but my hand was still trembling. I could barely write. The words on the page were just words.

But amidst all that chaos in my mind, I understood the maths, the technique, the challenge that came with auctions. Because I knew it, because I’d prepared all my life for this.

Then again, I felt him beside me. So close. Too close.

The scent of his cologne, something intimidating and expensive that pulled strings in my senses. The way he sat perfectly still, perfectly controlled, like a statue sculpted to perfection, while I was falling apart.

Why did he look?

I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t. But I did. Because for that one tiny second, he’d looked at me like I was something he wanted. Something he couldn’t look away from.

And then he’d shut it down so fast it felt like a door slamming in my face.

God, I shouldn’t be caring about this kind of thing. I should be mad. He humiliated me.

“Miss Blackwood.”

My head snapped up. He was looking at me now, those cold eyes boring into mine.

“Are you taking notes, or are you just decorating the page with ink?”

The room went silent again. I heard someone stifle a laugh.

My face burned hotter. “Yes, sir. I’m...I’m taking notes.”

“Good. Because I expect accuracy, not scribbles.”

Excuse me? Scribbles? Asshole.

I was doing my job! I was always do.

I wanted to die. Right there. Just melt into the floor and disappear. Forever.

“Yes, sir.”

He turned back to Marcus without another word, dismissing me completely.

And I sat there, embarrassed, trying to keep my breathing steady, trying not to scream, trying to figure out what the hell I’d done to deserve the way he was treating me.

I was the fool anyway. For letting him touch me, for thinking that for the slightest second, he’d be different.

I guess this was how it was going to be. It had to be like that at some point.

But if this was how he was going to play with me, then he was sure as hell no match for me.

And I was going prove it!