Caitlin Blackwood Novels & Stories

She rolled her eyes again, for the upteenth time that night. “But you're right," he said sitting up. “We need to know at least the basics," he added. “I'll go first," "I'm Adrian Blackwood. I'm twenty eight. I'm the heir to… actually” he paused. "I'm the CEO and general overseer of the Blackwood enterprise. I…" “Stop. Stop. Stop,” she cut in quickly. “This isn’t a press interview. The media knows all of that. Your parents will expect me to know things the media doesn’t know.”

The audacity of this man! She wasn’t going anywhere. Absolutely not. Five minutes later, her office phone rang. “Grace Monroe,” she answered, trying to keep her voice professional. “Ten minutes,” came the smooth, commanding voice on the other end. Her throat went dry. “Mr. Blackwood, with all due respect ” The line went dead. Grace sat frozen in her chair, pulse racing. Lila’s words echoed in her head. Men like Damien Blackwood don’t give you normal. They give you unforgettable.

Kieran tracked a waiter crossing in front of exit two for the third time — nothing, just someone doing their job — and moved his eyes back to the main entrance. That's when Damien Blackwood walked in. Kieran had read the file. Sixty-one, silver-haired, alpha, CEO of Blackwood Industries for twenty-two years and before that his father's right hand for ten years before that. The photos hadn't quite caught the way he actually took up space — not physically, he was tall but not unusual, it was something else, the practiced certainty of a man who'd spent six decades being told the world was arranged for his convenience and had come to believe it on a cellular level.

“Of course. I came to welcome you. Offer guidance. Social campaigns have a learning curve. Missteps can reflect badly on you.” Translation: he’s waiting for me to fall so he can swoop in and look like a hero. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.” He waits for me to soften. I don’t. He leaves. Enemy number three walks in at 11:00 sharp. Claire Harrison. Damien’s executive assistant. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect ability to make you feel like you’re trespassing. She doesn’t knock. Just appears. “Mr. Blackwood needs your campaign timeline by end of day.”

Vivian’s voice came through again: “Damien is distracted. The board is divided. This is our window. Once the documents are signed, Blackwood Industries will no longer belong to the Blackwoods.” Katherina covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God…” she breathed. “She’s actually doing it.” Her mother, who had been sipping her orange juice, leaned forward. “What is it, Katherina? What’s wrong this time?” Katherina’s hands shook as she scrolled through the files. “Mom… Vivian… she’s actually serious on selling Blackwood Industries from behind everyone’s back!”

By the time I burst through the glass doors of the residential building, she was already fifty yards ahead of me, marching straight toward the central campus quad. The courtyard was packed with hundreds of students heading to their morning lectures. And right in the center of the main quad, leaning casually against a stone pillar, was Killian Blackwood. He was wearing his heavy leather motorcycle jacket, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he talked to Jason Jax. He looked entirely unaffected by the lack of sleep, his dark hair messy, his cold gaze scanning the passing crowds with complete detachment. "Blackwood!" Winter’s voice boomed across the space , cutting straight through the lo

The doors opened, and a dozen elite Blackwood warriors stepped out, forming a rigid perimeter. Julian stepped out of the packhouse doors, his posture commanding, his eyes bright with an intensity Evelyn hadn't seen in years. He wasn't wearing his tactical gear today; he was in a tailored charcoal suit that made him look like a king ready to receive his queen. The door to the center SUV opened, and a woman stepped out. Cynthia Blackwood was breathtaking. Her platinum blonde hair caught the morning sunlight, and her icy blue eyes scanned the estate with an air of absolute ownership. She moved with a flawless, predatory grace that practically shouted her high-born Alpha bloodline.

Lawyer: “Ms. Blackwood, the sale was clean.” Sophia hung up. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked tired. --- *Friday | 8:00 am | Morning Briefing* Ryan: “Laurent launch is live. Early numbers are strong.” Elena: “Good.” Ryan: “Blackwood has canceled two events this week. Citing ‘restructuring.’” Elena: “Noted.” Ryan closed the folder. Elena: “Dismissed.” He turned to go. Elena: “Ryan.”

a very tiresome woman. “Whoa, seriously?” Carl's interest piqued. “Who is it?” “The Blackwood's second son, Kain. It's his fiancée.” Ava explained. She heard Carl scoff loudly, “What? She thinks you want to steal him away from her? I can't even remember the last time you ever liked a person. You're such a workaholic” Liam's face flashed through her mind. She drawled “..yeah” “You'll be fine,” Carl assured. “Try to stay alive till the month is over.”

But real didn’t mean safe. Real didn’t mean enough. Dominic Blackwood was the kind of man who could destroy a woman just by staying. Not by being cruel, but by being careful — measured. Caged. Like if he let you in, even a little, the whole structure of who he was might collapse. I knew it because I’d seen the cracks. And for too long, I’d tried to pour myself into them. And now… I was tired. Still, something in me cracked when he spoke last night. Because for the first time, he didn’t try to control it. Didn’t try to spin his silence into some version of strength.