Teach me, Mr Blackwood

_Aurora’s POV_

My life ended that morning.

Not figuratively.

Not dramatically.

I mean actually, brutally, violently ended.

At 7:42 a.m., my father froze my bank accounts.

By 7:45, my penthouse lights died with a pathetic flicker like even the electricity was done with my shit.

By 7:50, my music cut off mid-song, the speakers giving one last sad pop—as if even the universe was telling me to get my life together.

And by 8:20, I was storming into my father’s office wearing nothing but a silk robe, sunglasses, and pure delusion.

I slammed the double doors open so hard they rattled.

“Why. Did. You. Block. My. Accounts.” I gritted out.

The room full of clients turned and stared at me like I was a zoo exhibit.

I ignored every single one of them.

My father looked at me over the top of his glasses, then gave his clients a tight smile.

“My assistant will be in touch,” he said smoothly.

They packed up in a heartbeat—no one wanted to be in the room for a Kingston meltdown.

The moment the doors shut, his smile evaporated and I was met with the usual cold glare.

He reached under his desk, pulled out a magazine, and tossed it onto the table.

“Read.” He said.

I raised a brow, then looked down.

“Naked rooftop dance lands billionaire daughter in hot gossip.”

Ah.

That.

In my defense, how was I supposed to know the senator lived next door?

Or that his wife would call the police because she didn’t appreciate my red lace lingerie situation?

I was stoned and it was low-key the funniest night of my life.

I almost smiled.

Then I looked up and saw my father didn't find it as amusing as I did.

He wasn’t even irritated.

He was… done.

Like actually DONE.

Before I could speak, he delivered two words that cracked my world down the middle.

“I’m done.”

I blinked, refusing to believe it was what I thought it was. “Done with what?”

He slid a folder toward me.

“Done letting you destroy everything I built. Starting tomorrow, you work for Damian Blackwood.”

My heart stopped.

No.

No, no, no, no—

“Absolutely not.” I refused, shaking my head.

There was no way I was going to be doing that.

But he didn’t look like he had been asking if I wanted to do it.

My father stood from his desk, palms flat on the wood.

“Aurora. I messaged him already. He’s expecting you tomorrow morning.”

My stomach dropped to the center of the earth.

Damian Blackwood.

The man CEOs feared.

The man who ruined entire companies before breakfast.

My father’s cold, dangerous best friend.

Rumored to have killed his wife—never proven, never cleared either.

Everything about him radiated danger.

“Daddy, you can’t be serious,” I tried.

“I am,” he snapped. “If you don’t show up tomorrow, I will cut you off permanently. No money. No home. No reputation to hide behind.”

I laughed.

Like a full, borderline deranged cackle.

He didn’t blink.

That was when I knew he meant it.

So I spun around, slammed the office doors, and called him every ungrateful name I could think of in my head.

The next morning was chaos.

Pure chaos.

I woke up late, my alarm never went off because power was still disconnected, and apparently, life hated me.

I ran out of my penthouse with shoes in my hand, a brush in my mouth, and a folder of documents I was pretty sure belonged to my dentist.

“I’m late,” I cried to no one, flagging a taxi as it owed me money.

Inside the cab, I shoved my feet into flats, tried smoothing my hair with a brush, and wondered if Damian Blackwood believed in mercy.

Spoiler: he didn’t.

The taxi pulled up to his building—a towering black block of glass stabbing into the sky.

Of course, his office was on the top floor.

I rushed inside the lobby. The receptionist looked at me like I infect people for a living, ger news scrunched up in disgust.

“Who are you here to see?” She asked, giving me a once-over as she took in my disarranged state.

“I—um—I’m his new assistant,” I said, giving a breathless smile before she could ask.

“Do you have—”

I breezed past.

She could chase me later.

I slammed the elevator button, got inside, and breathed out shakily as the doors closed.

I tried to fix up my dressing in the elevator, straightening my clothes and brushing through my hair.

This was happening.

I was going to work for Damian Blackwood.

The man who made people tremble.

I was actually doing this.

Oh, God.

When the elevator finally reached the top floor, the doors slid open with a ding

The hallway was empty.

I looked down the hallway and through the other side, and there was actually no one in sight.

My heart hammered as I approached the large double office doors with D. BLACKWOOD engraved on the metal plate.

I forced my trembling hand to knock.

No answer.

Great.

I knocked again.

Still nothing.

Screw it.

I pushed the door open—

—and froze in place.

Damian Blackwood sat behind his massive black desk.

Sharp suit.

Cuffed sleeves.

Jaw tight enough to crack a diamond.

He didn’t look up at me.

Not even a glance.

I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by his deep voice.

“Close the door. You’re late.”

I shut the door so fast it echoed.

“S-sir, I—I’m sorry, I oversle—”

“Don’t explain,” he said, still not looking at me. “Don’t insult both of us.”

I swallowed hard, biting back a snarky remark.

I needed this job.

Damien clicked his pen once, set it down, and finally lifted his gaze to mine.

His eyes were dead.

Not angry—not anything.

Just void.

“Aurora Kingston,” he said. “Your father told me you’d be difficult. I don’t tolerate difficulty.”

I opened my mouth once again to speak but he raised a hand.

I shut it.

His next words were cold.

“You’re here because your father thinks I can fix you.”

He stood up, walked around the desk, and stopped right in front of me.

“And fixing something broken always starts with one thing.”

My breath caught.

He leaned in slightly—not close, not intimate.

Just close enough for me to perceive his cologne.

“Obedience.”

He stepped back.

His eyes dropped to my outfit—my wrinkled blouse, my rushed, messy hair.

And I almost grimaced.

I wasn’t making a good first impression.

“Drop the bag,” he said.

It fell from my fingers instantly.

Humiliation prickled up my spine.

I have never obeyed a man in my entire life and yet I had listened to just one command from this man.

He studied me like he was evaluating a defective product.

Then:

“Strip.”

My heart slammed against my ribs and I froze. “W-what?”

His expression didn’t shift an inch.

“This is not sexual,” he said calmly. “It’s discipline. Humiliation is a lesson you desperately need.”

“If you want to keep your father’s money—start by obeying.”

The room spun around as air left my lungs.

He actually did not expect me to…

But the look on his face as he waited told me he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

The room was filled with silence.

His voice dropped, lethal and unbothered—

“I said strip, Aurora.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The door clicked shut behind me.

Trapping me with him.