Mr Billionaire wants a bride

SERAPHINA

“You are in trouble, Sera”

I turned to Greta who stood at the door with her hands on her hips and a gleaming smile on her face.

She was the one person I totally detested and her hatred for me was in equal measure.

“Not today, Greta. Maybe tomorrow when I am in the mood for your nonsense”

“Sadly, you would not be here tomorrow”

What the hell did that mean?

I was just about to say something else when Darren, our manager walked in.

“You have been summoned, Sera by the boss”

My heart skipped at this.

“Summoned? Why?”

“I told him you were in charge of the project siren”

“But I wasn’t”

“He does not need to know that and you will not tell him that Greta and I were in charge or I swear to God, I will make your life a living hell. Now go on, he is waiting for you.

If I had known today would be the day I came face to face with the devil himself, I would have stayed at home in my pajamas and slept. A far better choice than walking into the lair of Tristan Blackwell, heir to Obsidian Innovations Group and rumored tyrant in a suit

The elevator hummed beneath my feet as it carried me to the executive floor.

I wasn’t nervous…well, maybe a little but nerves had no place here. This company thrived on fear, ambition, and obsession, and I would be damned if I let his reputation for being a grade one asshole run me scared.

I was perfectly dressed in a charcoal suit, my hair pulled into a sleek knot.

Obsidian Innovations was not just a tech company. It was the tech company. We created gateways…machines that could map the neural pathways of a human brain and replay memories, simulate emotions, spin entire worlds of fantasy like silk from a spider. It was both exciting, dangerous and, apparently, not good enough for Tristan Blackwell.

The rumors about him had spread faster than wildfire the moment his grandfather died. That he was colder than ice and I was apparently about to be Exhibit A in his new reign.

The elevator doors slid open and I stepped into his world. The executive floor was a different universe than the one I usually lived in, down among labs and product testing rooms. Up here, everything gleamed. Glass walls stretched floor to ceiling, giving a view of the skyline. The furniture was stunning…even the air felt better.

His grandfather’s office which I assumed he was taking was at the end of the hall. I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and pushed the doors open.

He did not look up at me as I walked in. He was scrolling instead through something on a holographic screen projected above the desk.

The light illuminated his features in harsh blue. My eyes trailed his sculpted jaw, high cheekbones and lips that looked like they had never once curved into a smile.

If there was one person who absolutely needed the fantasy that Obsidian tech had to offer, I would say it was him. Even at rest, his face carried disdain, as though the world itself bored him.

“Seraphina Cross,” he called out.

“Yes,” I said, stepping forward.

My voice did not waver, thank God.

He finally looked up and the breath hitched in my lungs. No one told me he had the most startling silver gray eyes I had ever seen. They swept over me once and I hated the way my knees shook.

“I have reviewed your department’s output,” he said, folding his hands together on the desk. “Weak. Practically useless. The sensory interface you are heading is years behind where it should be. If you were working for any other company, your project would have been cut months ago.”

“I understand, Mr Blackwell but I think…”

“I do not care what you think, Ms Cross and I do not care for your excuses. All I see here is dead weight dragging the company into mediocrity and my grandfather may have tolerated it but I would not”

My jaw clenched and I could almost hear my teeth grit.

“You know nothing about what mediocrity is, Mr Blackwell”

“Excuse me?”

“You have no idea what we have been working with” I shot at him before I could stop myself.

His eyebrows arched, the slightest flicker of surprise that I had dared to cut him off.

“Choose your next words carefully, Ms Cross”

“We are behind but it is not because we are useless. It is because your grandfather prioritized projects that were safe and marketable. Departments like mine were given crumbs and we have done everything we can with them so forgive me if our works are not up to your standards, I would like to see you attempt to do what we have done.” I snapped

He was staring at me by the time I was done and I was so sure this was the end of the road for me.

I did not move a muscle as we stared each other down. The office suddenly felt smaller and I could feel a line of sweat run down my back.

Finally his lips curled into a smile no doubt amused by my audacity.

“Bold words from someone who is one misstep away from unemployment”

“I…”

“Prove it to me” He stopped me.

“What?”

“Prove to me that the only reason your department has dished out such low standards is because of the higher ups not paying any attention and nothing else”

That was far from what I was expecting… so far that I could not speak.

“Why, Ms Cross… would you prefer I fire you now and be done with it?”

“No… no, of course not”

“Then you have two days to give me something perfect and if you fail, you will be out of this company faster than you can blink” His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. “Consider it your chance to back up the words you just uttered”

I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression calm even though my pulse hammered in my throat. “Two days is more than enough time”

“Then get out,” he said smoothly, turning his gaze back to the holographic display, dismissing me.

I stood there for a full half minute, glaring at the side of his face.

“Is there a problem, Ms Cross?”

“Not at all, sir” I responded, walking out of the office.

Asshole, I thought.

Greta was waiting when I came back down.

“So?” She grinned. “Time to clear your desk”

“You wish”

She scoffed and walked away from me while I settled into my desk.

Two days… what the hell could I do that would impress Tristan Blackwell in two fucking days.

I might as well have let him fire me.