Ava couldn’t stop replaying the interview in her head. Damon Blackwell’s cold stare had followed her all the way home, haunting her dreams like a shadow that refused to fade. By morning, she still couldn’t tell whether she was terrified or intrigued.

Her new job began on Monday, and though she’d promised herself to appear calm, her nerves betrayed her. She had ironed her blouse twice, polished her shoes until they shone, and checked her bag three times before leaving the house. It wasn’t vanity—it was survival. Damon didn’t look like a man who forgave second chances.

When she arrived at Blackwell Industries, everything screamed wealth and discipline. The lobby smelled faintly of expensive cologne and power. Employees walked briskly, their faces expressionless, as if emotions were banned at the door. Ava quickly realized this was no ordinary company—it was Damon’s kingdom, and every soul inside moved by his silent command.

She was led to her new workspace by a tall, serious-looking man. “Isaac,” he introduced himself with a polite nod. “Mr. Blackwell’s personal assistant.”

Ava managed a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Isaac.”

He returned the gesture faintly. “He wants to see you first thing. And a word of advice—don’t speak unless he asks.”

Her stomach tightened. “He’s that strict?”

Isaac’s lips twitched slightly. “Strict isn’t the word. You’ll learn soon enough.”

When she entered Damon’s office again, the atmosphere hit her like cold water. He was already seated, scrolling through something on his tablet. He didn’t look up when he said, “Close the door.”

She obeyed instantly.

“Sit.”

His tone left no room for hesitation. Ava sat opposite him, trying to keep her composure as his sharp gaze finally lifted to her.

“From now on,” he began, “you’ll report directly to me. No excuses, no delays. You’ll handle my schedule, organize my files, and accompany me to important meetings if required.”

She nodded quickly. “Understood, sir.”

He leaned back slightly, watching her every move. “There are also rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yes,” he said smoothly, folding his hands on the desk. “Number one: never be late. Number two: never argue. And number three…” He paused, letting his eyes travel over her face for a heartbeat too long. “Never mix emotions with work.”

Ava swallowed. “Of course.”

His lips curved in a faint, humorless smile. “You sound sure. Let’s hope it lasts.”

He stood and walked toward the window, his hands buried in his pockets. The city lights reflected against the glass, outlining his silhouette in silver. “People around here tend to underestimate me, Miss Green. They think kindness and weakness are the same thing. I don’t tolerate that confusion.”

“I understand, Mr. Blackwell,” she said softly, though her voice trembled.

He turned then, his eyes meeting hers. “Do you?”

The silence between them grew heavy. There was something magnetic about his presence—something she couldn’t name. It wasn’t attraction exactly, but it wasn’t fear either. It was the unsettling feeling of being seen too clearly.

“Good,” he said at last, dismissing her with a brief nod. “Isaac will brief you on your duties. You may go.”

As she rose to leave, his voice stopped her at the door.

“One more thing, Miss Green,” he said without looking up. “Don’t ever lie to me. I can smell dishonesty before it’s spoken.”

Ava hesitated, her hand gripping the door handle. “I won’t.”

“See that you don’t.”

She stepped out, her heart pounding. Damon Blackwell was more than just her boss—he was a storm in human form. And she had just walked straight into it.