The clock ticked to 2:56 PM.

I stood before the tall mirror in my private office lounge, adjusting the cuffs of my deep charcoal blazer. 

My dark lipstick had been reapplied with surgical precision. 

Not a strand of my black hair was out of place. 

I looked like war in heels, poised, polished, and unreadable.

The board meeting would begin in four minutes.

I hated board meetings.

Behind me, Lara stood holding a folder of annotated talking points, chewing on the inside of her cheek, too afraid to speak unless spoken to.

I turned, my stilettos clicking once against the marble floor.

"Where are the files?" I asked.

Lara flinched into motion. "Right here, ma'am-"

But a quiet voice interrupted from the doorway.

"They're already in the briefing folder, color-tagged by section."

We both looked up.

Rhys stood just outside the office, dressed in crisp office grey, his presence calm and collected.

 In his hand was a sleek black folder...my meeting dossier.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Did I ask for your help?"

"No, ma'am," he said, stepping forward. "But I thought it would save you time."

He held the folder out. His hand was steady.

Lara froze, glancing from me to Rhys like she was waiting for someone to detonate.

I took the folder without a word. Our fingers didn't touch, but they came close. 

Too close.

My expression remained the same: unreadable. Cold.

Then I looked down at the folder, flipped it open. 

The layout was clean. Tabbed. Notes are marked efficiently with no unnecessary clutter.

He was good.

But that didn't mean he'd earned anything from me.

"You're bold," I said quietly, eyes still on the folder.

"I'm efficient."

I looked up, my eyes locking on his for a beat too long.

Then I turned sharply toward the door, walking past him without another word.

My heels clicked away down the corridor, echoing like a clock winding down to something inevitable.

Rhys watched me go.

His face was neutral, but his hand flexed once at his side, like he'd felt something invisible brush against his skin.

Behind him, Lara exhaled.

"She didn't curse you out," she whispered.

"She doesn't have to," he murmured. "I felt it anyway."

******

The boardroom of Blackwood Enterprises was a sleek cathedral of polished oak, chrome, and glass.

its a long oval table surrounded by eleven sharply dressed men in mid-conversation and low chuckles.

Laughter. Easy energy. Back-slapping confidence.

Until I walked in.

The double doors opened with a whisper.

And silence followed like a sudden winter.

I entered first.

Tall. Impeccably dressed. Eyes forward. Expression void of warmth.

I didn't greet anyone. I didn't have to. My presence was the greeting.

Behind me, Lara clutched her iPad tightly, eyes darting.

 And behind us both, Rhys Morgan entered quietly, walking with a calculated calm. 

No one noticed him at first, but I did.

As we moved down the length of the room, the directors shifted in their seats.

Some straightened ties. Some cleared throats. one quickly minimized something on his tablet.

I had that effect.

Without breaking stride, my gaze cut sideways toward Rhys, cool, sharp, assessing.

Just for a second.

A warning, maybe.

Or a dare.

Rhys caught the look.

He didn't blink. Just dipped his head once, subtle and unreadable.

I reached the head of the table and paused.

Eleven men watched me. Not one of them spoke.

I slid into my seat without a word, legs crossing, hands resting lightly on the leather folder Rhys had prepared earlier. 

My chair faced them all like a throne in a room of courtiers.

Lara took the seat beside me, nervously organizing files.

Rhys remained standing behind me, silent, composed, a quiet shadow observing everything.

The Director of Finance cleared his throat, attempting to recover the room's energy. 

"Good afternoon, Ms. Blackwood. We were just reviewing—"

"I'm aware," I cut in smoothly, my voice cool and clear. 

"And I assume we're ready to discuss why your department overshot last quarter's projected spend by seven percent?"

A few men shifted in their chairs.

My gaze scanned the room once, slow and deliberate, then settled like a dagger across the table.

The warmth was gone. This was my room now.

And no one dared pretend otherwise.