One night with my Untouchable CEO(4)

STOP SUMMONING ME, MR. BLACKWOOD

ISABELLA

By ten in the morning, I had decided that Adrian Blackwood was the devil in an expensive suit.

My new boss had already rejected two reports because the headings were apparently “visually offensive,” sent back a schedule because one meeting started three minutes too late, and summoned me to his office four times without giving me a single task worth the walk.

The fifth summons arrived just as I was beginning to enjoy my coffee.

“Miss Hart, Mr. Blackwood would like to see you.”

I stared at Marcus, his secretary, who had delivered the message with the calm expression of a man who had accepted that his employer was beyond saving.

“Does he want something important this time?”

“I believe he wants coffee.”

I glanced at the cup beside my keyboard. “He has an entire office full of coffee.”

“Apparently, none of it is the right coffee.”

I stood with a sigh. “If I disappear, tell my best friend I died fighting a billionaire.”

Marcus laughed as I walked past him.

Adrian sat behind his desk, studying a document when I entered, and he didn’t look up until I placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

“Two sugars,” I announced. “A little milk, and a sprinkle of my rapidly disappearing patience.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “I didn’t ask for commentary.”

“And I didn’t ask to become your personal coffee delivery service, but here we are.”

He took a sip, frowned, and put the cup down.

I stared at him. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s too sweet.”

“You asked for two sugars.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Wonderful. Should I bring you a new personality while I’m at it?”

His mouth twitched, although he quickly disguised it by reaching for a document.

“Review these meeting notes and correct the formatting.”

I glanced at the neatly arranged pages on his desk. “They’re already formatted.”

“Then it should be a simple task.”

I gave him my brightest smile. “Of course, Mr. Blackwood. Anything else? Perhaps you’d like me to rearrange the alphabet while I’m at it?”

“Close the door on your way out, Miss Hart.”

“Gladly.”

I shut it behind me, muttering something unflattering about billionaires and their unnecessary suffering.

Unfortunately, my new position came with an audience. By lunchtime, two employees had witnessed me arguing with Adrian through his open office door, and someone from accounting had apparently started taking bets on how long I would last.

Chloe called just as I was finishing my lunch.

“So,” she said without greeting me, “how’s the new job?”

“Terrible. My boss is a tyrant who believes coffee is a personality trait.”

“Is he at least handsome?”

I nearly choked on my water. “Why does that matter?”

“Because you sound suspiciously angry for someone who has a job. Tell me what he looks like.”

“Tall, arrogant, permanently irritated, and unfortunately attractive.”

There was a brief silence.

Then Chloe gasped. “Wait. Tall and attractive? Isabella, is this the man from my birthday party?”

I lowered my voice and glanced toward Adrian’s office. “Keep your voice down!”

“Oh my God, it is him! You kissed your boss?”

“I didn’t know he was my boss!”

“And now you’re working directly for him? This is better than television.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“You cannot hang up on me when I’m living through the greatest romantic scandal of my life!”

I ended the call before she could make things worse, but her laughter followed me for the rest of the afternoon.

By five, I was ready to go home, although Adrian had apparently decided that leaving the office at a reasonable hour was a privilege I hadn’t earned.

I was halfway to the elevator when I heard his voice behind me.

“Miss Hart.”

I closed my eyes briefly before turning around. “Yes, Mr. Blackwood?”

“Are you leaving?”

“No, sir. I’m planning to spend the night beside the elevator and become part of the building’s interior design.”

His expression remained impassive, but I could have sworn his eyes brightened with amusement.

“Get in.”

“Is that an invitation or a threat?”

“Would you prefer I call security?”

I stepped into the elevator before he could change his mind.

Unfortunately, several employees entered on the next floor, leaving us squeezed between a man carrying a stack of folders and a woman talking loudly into her phone. When the elevator jolted slightly, someone behind Adrian stumbled and collided with his shoulder.

His reaction was immediate.

He jerked away so violently that his back struck the wall, and his face drained of colour as he struggled to regain his balance.

Before I could think, I caught his arm.

“Adrian?”

He went completely still.

For one strange moment, the noise around us seemed to fade, and I felt the tension running through him beneath my fingers. His gaze dropped to my hand, and I expected him to wrench himself away or snap at me for touching him.

Instead, he remained where he was.

His breathing was uneven, and something in his expression looked frighteningly close to panic, but he didn’t pull away from me.

I loosened my grip without releasing him completely, giving him the chance to move if he wanted to.

“Easy,” I murmured, keeping my voice casual. “It’s only an elevator, not a scene from a horror movie.”

His eyes met mine.

“Your commentary is unnecessary.”

“Good. Your ability to insult people is still working, so I can stop worrying that you’ve been replaced by an alien.”

A quiet, startled breath escaped him, almost like a laugh, and his shoulders gradually relaxed.

When the doors opened, the other passengers filed out, and Adrian stepped into the empty corridor beside me.

I released his arm immediately.

He looked at me as though he wanted to say something, but whatever it was remained behind his tightly controlled expression.

I decided not to ask.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Blackwood,” I said instead. “Try not to terrorise the remaining staff before you leave.”

“Good evening, Miss Hart.”

I walked away before he could summon me for a sixth time, although I couldn’t quite shake the memory of his expression in that elevator.

Whatever had frightened him, it wasn’t something he wanted people to see.

And for once, I had the sense to leave it alone.

ADRIAN

I had spent years making sure nobody touched me unexpectedly, yet a crowded elevator had reduced me to a state of panic before I could even react.

The worst part wasn’t the fear itself. It was the fact that Isabella had witnessed it.

She had caught my arm without hesitation, but the moment I was steady, she loosened her grip and gave me room to move. She hadn’t demanded an explanation or looked at me with pity, and she had distracted me with an absurd joke until I could breathe normally again.

I couldn’t understand why her touch didn’t trigger the same revulsion I experienced with everyone else.

I understood even less why I wanted to experience it again.

Back in my office, I tried to concentrate on the reports waiting on my desk, but my attention kept drifting toward the glass walls overlooking the administrative section.

That was when I saw her.

Isabella stood beside a man I recognised from the marketing department. He was leaning against her desk, saying something that made her throw her head back and laugh.

I had heard her argue with me all day, so seeing her laugh so freely with someone else felt strangely irritating.

The man said something else, and she nudged his shoulder playfully.

My fingers tightened around my pen.

Who was he?

I stared at them for several seconds, trying to convince myself that I was merely concerned about workplace distractions. Isabella was my personal assistant, and I had every right to expect professionalism from my staff.

That explanation sounded reasonable until the man smiled at her again.

Then I wanted to walk out of my office and find out exactly who he was, why he was making her laugh, and whether he had any intention of doing it again tomorrow.

I set my pen down.

This was ridiculous.

I had a company to run, contracts worth millions waiting for my approval, and absolutely no reason to care who Isabella Hart laughed with.

Yet I couldn’t look away.