Chapter Nine

Olivia’s POV

“I step into the lobby of Blackwood & Co like I’ve got stock in the place. I don’t, but when your friend’s been losing sleep over the CEO, you earn the right to strut a little.”

The receptionist smiles at me, but I wave it off. “Just picking her up,” I say, heels clicking across the polished marble.

I expect to find Scarlett waiting by the elevators, scrolling through her phone and looking ten seconds from a nervous breakdown like she always does after a long day. But instead, I walk in on something… else.

Scarlett’s standing there, lips pressed into a tight line, arms crossed, and Ares Blackwood is two feet in front of her, not giving her space. Not touching her, not inappropriate, but definitely not just "chatting with the intern."

His jacket’s off, sleeves rolled, forearms flexing slightly as he gestures toward something she said. And Scarlett? She’s holding her ground like she’s got steel in her spine.

I pause by the glass partition.

He leans a fraction closer.

“Your voice was shaking in the meeting,” he says, low and even.

Her jaw ticks. “I wasn’t scared.”

“I didn’t say you were.” His eyes scan her face,  not in that male-gaze way, but in that unnervingly focused, predator-calculating-you way.

Scarlett doesn’t flinch. “Then why bring it up?”

He doesn’t smile. But his eyes spark with something close. “Because I’ve never seen someone argue with me like that in a boardroom and then act like it never happened.”

Scarlett raises her chin, and I swear I feel the temperature shift. “What do you want me to do? Apologize for having a backbone?”

He steps even closer.

Ares smirks, voice low but clear enough for me to hear. “You keep surprising me, Scarlett. Didn’t think you had it in you to ruffle so many feathers today.” 

She shoots him a tired smile, but there’s a spark in her eyes, something that makes my brows furrow.

Scarlett opens her mouth, probably to give him a well-earned dressing down, but then she sees me standing behind the glass.

She startles like she’s been caught committing a crime.

Ares glances over his shoulder. When his eyes land on me, he straightens slightly, like I’ve broken some kind of spell.

“You’re late,” Scarlett says, voice a little too high.

I step forward slowly, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting a corporate romance novel.”

Ares’s expression doesn’t change, which somehow makes it more hilarious.

Scarlett shoots me a glare. “Let’s go.”

I grin, walking up and looping my arm through hers. “Don’t mind me, Mr. Blackwood. Just your intern’s ride. And moral compass.”

His lips twitch, just slightly. “Drive safe.”

He gives us both a final nod before disappearing around the corner like nothing just happened.

The moment he’s gone, Scarlett lets out a breath she must’ve been holding since the elevator.

I don’t say anything at first.

We walk past the front desk. The air outside hits us and she finally groans.

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I haven’t even begun,” I smirk. “What was that?”

She groans louder. “Nothing.”

I lean closer. “You like him.”

“Olivia.”

“I’m just saying,” I tease. “You two might need an HR department of your own.”

She swats my arm and I laugh heartily as we walk to the car.

I decide to stop at one of my favorite restaurants for dinner.

The restaurant is warm and cozy, dim lights casting soft shadows over the polished wood tables. I watch Scarlett settle into the seat across from me, still a little tense, like she’s carrying something she doesn’t want to say.

I order us drinks, then lean forward, ready to pry.

“So,” I start casually, swirling my glass of wine, “how was your day? Besides surviving a tense board meeting with Mr. Blackwood himself.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes but smiles. “You know, same old. Lots of ‘important’ meetings. You’d be surprised how little power interns actually have.”

I smirk. “That’s true. But you definitely shook things up today. You saw that look Ares gave you in the lobby.”

She shakes her head quickly, as if trying to erase the memory. “Don’t read into it. Ares is... complicated.”

“Complicated?” I raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t he supposed to be engaged? To Bianca, right?”

Scarlett shrugs, but her smile tightens. “Yeah, Bianca. What about her?”

I lean back in my chair, swirling the wine in my glass before launching into what I know Scarlett’s been curious about. “Honestly, Bianca fits the socialite mold to a T. She’s thirty, model-turned-beauty influencer, with a following that could fill stadiums. Designer dresses that look like they’ve been stitched by angels, flawless I*******m grids, charity galas that scream exclusivity. Basically, she’s the poster child for ‘perfect public image.’”

Scarlett listens, her eyes narrowing just slightly, like she’s piecing together a puzzle. “So, she’s all about the surface?”

I nod. “That’s the thing. From what I’ve seen, Bianca does care about Ares, at least, in her own way. But it’s tangled up with this obsession over how they look together to the outside world. They’re the kind of couple that turns heads not just because of who they are, but because they’re a brand. Powerful, polished, untouchable.”

I pause, watching Scarlett’s fingers fidget nervously around the stem of her glass.

“She’s so committed to the image that she almost detaches when they’re out in public,” I add quietly. “Like, she’ll be there arm in arm with Ares, but there’s this weird distance in her eyes, like she’s performing rather than living. It’s like she’s guarding some invisible line between them and the rest of the world.”

Scarlett’s lips press together, and she finally nods. “I noticed that too. The way she holds him, like she’s afraid someone might take him away. But not in a loving way. More like he’s a trophy she has to protect.”

I lean in, lowering my voice. “Exactly. She’s present, but not really present, if you know what I mean. It’s like they share a space but not a connection.

“So, do you think Ares actually cares about her?” I ask gently.

Scarlett sighs, looking away. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s real with him. He’s good at hiding things. And with Bianca…well, it feels like a contract sometimes.”

I nod. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Which is why... well, I’m not going to get involved.” Her voice lowers.

I reach across the table and give her hand a quick squeeze. “You’re stronger than you think.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The waiter arrives with our food, breaking the moment. As Scarlett digs into her pasta, I can’t help but wonder how much longer she can keep juggling the truth and the pretenses. 

Cause it’s pretty clear there’s some tension between her and Ares.

Oh, boy.