By noon, the entire building knew.

Whispers ran like fire through elevators, coffee rooms, and message threads.

"Did you hear?"

"She fired three directors at once."

"No one saw it coming."

"She smiled while doing it."

"She's cold-blooded."

"She's brilliant."

******

Everyone knew the legend of Carmen Blackwood, but now... I was a myth come alive.

Untouchable. Dangerous.

And in my office?

There was silence.

The city skyline stretched outside the glass like a quiet painting.

I sat behind my desk, flipping lazily through a report, though my eyes hadn't moved down the page in the last ten minutes.

Lara hovered nearby, glancing between the time and me.

"Ma'am," she said softly. "It's twelve thirty. My lunch break?"

I didn't answer.

I simply turned a page.

Lara hesitated. 

"I'll be back in under an hour. Everything's organized, your calls are being rerouted. And... if you need anything, you could have Rhys step in."

That made me pause.

My eyes lifted, slow and piercing.

"I didn't ask for company."

"I know," Lara said gently. 

"But you shouldn't skip lunch again. And he's your secretary now. Let him do something."

A long silence passed.

My gaze flicked back to the report, but my voice was flat. "He's new."

"He's capable," Lara replied, holding her ground.

 "And you're not an island, ma'am. Not all day."

That earned her a sharp glance—but not an angry one. Just... distant.

Lara smiled faintly. "I'll send him in."

She left quickly before I could say anything more.

Moments later, a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," I said, voice already bored.

Rhys entered, quiet as a breath. The door clicked shut behind him.

He didn't speak. Just stood, hands behind his back, watching me with those unreadable gray eyes.

I looked up at him.

"No clipboard? No dramatic updates?" I said, dryly.

"No, ma'am," he replied. 

"Lara asked me to keep you company. Temporarily."

"I don't need company."

"I believe you," he said.

A pause.

"But you're here anyway," I said coolly.

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

I sat back in my chair, studying him now, not with irritation, but curiosity.

As if trying to figure out why he wasn't squirming, speaking, or shrinking in my presence like the others.

He didn't flinch. Didn't fidget.

He simply existed. Calm. Neutral. Safe... but with something hidden beneath.

I hated that.

Or maybe not.

"I just fired half the room this morning," I said softly, sipping my water. 

"Don't you find that disturbing?"

"No," he said.

"Why?"

"Because they deserved it."

My brows lifted slightly.

"And how would you know that, Mr. Morgan?"

Rhys tilted his head.

"Because I was listening."

Our eyes locked.

For a moment, neither of us moved. 

The tension wasn't explosive; it was quiet, like the stretch of a wire pulled tighter and tighter.

Then I looked away, back to the window.

"I don't want small talk," I murmured.

"I don't offer it, ma'am."

I almost smiled.

Almost.

The scent of truffle butter and roasted vegetables drifted into the room before the knock came.

I didn't look up.

Rhys, standing silently near the side table, stepped forward and opened the door.

A junior assistant wheeled in a silver lunch tray, nervous and whispering, 

"Lara's orders, it's from Madame Rue's, specially made."

"Set it there," Rhys said calmly, gesturing to the end of the desk.

The assistant nodded and quickly fled.

My eyes remained fixed on my monitor.

"Remove it," I said flatly.

Rhys raised a brow. "Ma'am?"

"The tray," I said, typing something without looking. 

"Take it out. I'm not eating."

"You've skipped both breakfast and lunch."

"I didn't hire a secretary to keep count of my meals," I snapped softly.

Rhys didn't move.

Instead, he stepped forward, rolled the tray closer, and uncovered the dish

Grilled chicken over rosemary risotto, garnished with edible petals and artisan bread. 

A small dessert rested beside it, strawberries dipped in dark chocolate.

I glanced at it briefly, expression unreadable.

"Coffee."

"You've had three."

"And?"

Rhys met my eyes.

"I'm not bringing you another cup on an empty stomach."

My stare sharpened like a knife being unsheathed.

"Excuse me?"

His voice stayed level. Soft. But immovable.

"You're running on caffeine and adrenaline. Eventually, even queens need fuel."

My fingers froze above my keyboard.

That word.

Queen.

It wasn't said with sarcasm. Or flirtation. It was said as truth.

And that infuriated me more.

I stood slowly, walked around the desk, and approached the tray like it had personally offended me.

"Do you always overstep your role?" I asked, eyes fixed on him.

"Only when necessary," he replied.

I picked up a fork.

Not to eat.

Just to hold it.

"You're bold, Mr. Morgan," I said.

"Men who try to manage me don't last long."

"I'm not trying to manage you, Ms. Blackwood," he said quietly. 

"I'm trying to make sure you don't pass out mid-strategy review."

My jaw tensed.

Then, against all logic, I stabbed a bite of risotto and took it.

Slowly. Reluctantly. Like it was beneath me.

But I chewed. Swallowed.

And Rhys?

He didn't smile.

He simply turned and poured me a glass of water, placing it beside me without comment.

"You have five minutes before your call with Singapore," he said gently.

I sat back down, crossed my legs, and took another bite, still annoyed, still guarded, but no longer resisting.

"Dismissed," I murmured, eyes on my screen.

But Rhys didn't move just yet.

He stood there one more second, watching me.

Then, quietly

"Yes, ma'am."

He walked out, the door clicking softly behind him.

And I?

I kept eating.

Still scowling.

But eating.