5. Old Files

Rowan's POV

My day had started unusually well—better than it had in a long time. I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt this fresh walking into the office.

I arrived early. Not for a meeting. Not because I had to. Just… early.

And that was rare.

Though I’ve always been punctual—strictly so—the only times I ever showed up before schedule were when high-stakes meetings demanded it.

Today wasn’t one of those days.

Or maybe… I was just a little too excited to make Elena’s office hours a living hell.

So excited, in fact, that I didn’t even bother waiting for my usual time to walk in. You never know.

The moment she walked into my office, my eyes automatically scanned her.

The cream-colored dress hugged her body in all the right places—elegant, effortless. She looked like something out of a dream. An angel, if angels came with sharp eyes and the kind of attitude that made you want to rile them up just for fun.

My gaze dipped, just for a second, catching the soft curve of her cleavage framed by the V-neckline.

My throat went dry. I looked back up—quickly. Her eyes met mine. Bright. Shiny. Unapologetically sharp.

She stepped forward and placed the coffee on my desk. I barely glanced at it. The scent was strong, rich, and wrong.

By the time she turned to leave, I’d already texted Greta her first task of the day—one I knew would push her buttons just a little. Maybe more. I kept my face unreadable, but my voice stopped her in her tracks.

“And Miss Hart?” I said coolly. “For future reference—I don’t drink whatever that is.”

She glanced back at the untouched cup.

“I take a double espresso. No sugar. No milk. Simple.”

I gave her a pointed look, fighting the smirk that threatened to tug at the corners of my mouth.

******************************************************

Once Elena walked out, I turned my attention back to the real problem waiting on my desk.

The expansion project.

Blackwood Corporation is planning to establish a major presence in Italy—a move that could reshape everything for us. We’ve been eyeing a very specific area. It’s perfect—strategic location, strong infrastructure, access to major trade routes. In simple terms, a game-changer.

We secured the proposal, finalized the pitch, and just when everything seemed to be lining up… another corporation stepped in.

Turns out, they’d already applied for the same land.

Now both companies are fighting for it. No negotiations. Just a battle to see who gets there first and proves their worth.

I could’ve walked away. Found another site. One less complicated, less competitive. But I won’t.

That land fits our plan too perfectly. It holds the kind of potential you don’t give up—not if you’re serious about winning. And I didn’t take this position in the company to come second.

Letting them have it would weaken our position and hand them an advantage I’m not willing to give.

So, no—I’m not backing down.

They’re in the way. And I intend to move them.

******************************************************

After sitting through a painfully dull call and signing off on three contracts, I finally pushed back from my desk and decided to step out for lunch. I needed air—and maybe five minutes without a screen glaring back at me.

As I walked through the corridor, I heard voices echoing from the archive room. At first, I ignored it. Until I heard my name.

Well. Not just my name.

“Two hours with Rowan Blackwood is like two years in purgatory.”

I paused mid-step, arching a brow.

Purgatory? Really? That’s dramatic—even for her.

“The man is a brat in a designer suit. Arrogant, smug, and a total bastard.”

I nearly choked on my own breath. A laugh threatened to escape, but I clenched my jaw and leaned casually against the wall just out of sight.

So this is what she does when she thinks I’m not around. Vents about me like I’m the CEO of Hell.

I peeked around the corner just enough to catch her on a rickety stool, her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, yanking files like she was defusing a bomb.

“He gave me coffee orders like I’m his personal barista, insulted my effort, then handed me this glorified treasure hunt in the archives.”

Her voice was so full of exasperation I actually had to press my fist against my mouth to keep from laughing. She blew a strand of hair out of her face like a frustrated cartoon character. If I wasn’t the target of her rant, it might’ve been cute.

Okay—maybe it still was.

“These files haven’t been touched since the Roman Empire.”

Really? Roman Empire?

At that point, I had to look up at the ceiling and take a breath before I lost it completely. I could feel the smirk tugging at my lips, but I kept it in check.

Just barely.

“One? I’m half a paper cut away.”

I might have snorted. Silently. But still.

And then—she said it.

“If I survive this week, drinks are on you.”

“No promises.” She replied to something again.

I stepped forward, clearing my throat loudly.

Her smug little smile froze.

Now this… this was going to be fun.

I heard a sharp curse—

And before I had time to think, my arms were already around her waist.

She stumbled off the damn stool, the box slipping from her hands, and in one quick motion, she was in my arms.

Her hands clutched at my shoulders, then slid instinctively around my neck. We froze there—close, too close—her breath brushing against my jaw, eyes wide and stunned.

I didn’t move.

For a second, I didn’t even breathe.

The scent of her perfume, soft and warm, clouded everything. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her fingers curled slightly against my shirt.

God help me—I didn’t want to let go.

Then she spoke.

“You can leave me now.”

I have no intention of doing this anytime soon, Mia bella. A cruel voice inside my head said.

Just like that, the moment snapped back to reality.

I stepped back immediately, arms dropping to my sides, jaw tightening like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just caught her. Like she hadn’t just fit too perfectly in my arms for my liking.

“I think calls during office hours aren’t exactly professional,” I said, casually straightening my sleeves as I looked at her.

She lowered her head slightly, guilt or maybe frustration flickering in her eyes. “I was doing the task you gave me, and—”

“No excuses, mia bella,” I cut in, voice calm but firm. “It’s your first day, and I can already see you breaking rules.”

Her jaw tightened. Her fist clenched at her side. Good—she was trying not to snap. “I wasn’t breaking rules, sir. I was just… taking a call.”

“Not just any call,” I said, voice low. “You’re not supposed to be taking personal calls. Only work-related ones.”

She stiffened more. “Sure, Boss.”

I turned to leave, but just as I reached the door, I paused—smirking without looking back. “Oh, and Miss Hart.”

“Yes, Boss?” She replied, clipped.

“Find me that eight-year-old finance file too. Should be somewhere in the middle of all that dust.”

As I stepped into the hallway, I caught a glimpse of her mouth falling open in disbelief.

A grin tugged at my lips as I walked away for lunch.

******************************************************

I sat at my usual corner table in the executive dining lounge, the noise fading into a dull hum around me.

Lunch was simple today—grilled salmon, lemon butter sauce on the side, lightly sautéed asparagus, and a glass of sparkling water. Clean. Precise. Just the way I liked things.

I cut into the fish with measured ease, each bite slow and methodical. But despite the calm routine of it, I couldn’t ignore the faint reminder of earlier—her hands on my neck, the way her body had collided with mine, that involuntary little breath she'd taken when she realized she was in my arms.

Even now, I could still feel the faint warmth of her touch on my skin. Lingering like a ghost. Subtle, but distracting.

I leaned back slightly, letting the glass cool against my palm as I took a sip, trying to push her out of my head.

It didn’t work.

Just as I set the glass down, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Heels. Long stride. Confident energy.

I looked up, and a familiar figure approached.

My brow arched. “Nina.”

She smirked, arms crossed. “Hello, brother.”