TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

Monday Morning — Blackwood Signature Events, 18th Floor

The elevator dinged open, and for a brief, surreal second, it felt like the entire floor took a collective breath.

Lexi stepped out.

Tailored slacks hugged her hips. Her cream blouse was tucked in just right, the fabric skimming her frame like it belonged there. Nude heels clicked against the marble floor with measured grace. Glossy curls framed her face, soft and defined. Her lashes fanned, lips painted a delicate pink, and her back — straight, sure, unshakable.

She didn't walk in like she hoped to belong.

She walked in like she did.

Heads turned.

A guy near the reception desk lowered his glasses to get a better look. Another pretended to casually scroll through his inbox while clearly side-eyeing her. Conversations stalled. Mugs hovered mid-air. Even the air seemed to pause — just long enough to let the silence speak.

And then—

Camille.

Perched behind her desk, reviewing files. The moment her eyes lifted, her hand stilled.

She blinked.

Her lips parted, ever so slightly, then pressed back into a line. Her gaze flicked over Lexi's outfit — crisp lines, glowing skin, and unbothered ease. No smirk. No words. Just a blink too slow and a brow raised a breath too high.

Her?

Before any frost could settle, Ava appeared from the corner office, sipping a green smoothie.

She caught sight of Lexi, paused, and lifted a single brow. Then — a small, knowing smile. The kind only women in power gave to those rising up.

Dress the part. Look the part. Be the part.

And then, as if summoned by scent or signal, Maya burst out from behind the nearest cubicle like Lexi had just stepped onto a red carpet.

"Oh. My. Goooooodness, Lex! Who. Is. She?!"

Lexi grinned. "Just me. With better posture and pressed pants."

Maya twirled dramatically. "You're giving CEO's favorite. You're giving She-E-O. You're giving, 'No, sir, I don't fetch coffee — I run departments.'"

Lexi laughed, easing into her seat, her posture still perfect. "Okay, okay. Hype queen."

Maya winked. "If they don't promote you after this glow-up, I will personally march into the boardroom and set something on fire."

Lexi chuckled, but her eyes were already scanning her monitor. She pulled up the gala files and began to type — fingers steady, focus sharp. Her to-do list blinked back at her, but for once, it didn't feel like a mountain. It felt like motion. Direction.

9:55 a.m.

Her alarm buzzed softly.

Meeting with Mr. Blackwood — 10:00 a.m.

Her stomach did a subtle flip. Not fear. Anticipation. But still, she took a quick breath and checked her reflection on the black screen of her tablet. Curls intact. Lipstick still soft. Game face on.

---

10:00AM — 38th Floor, CEO's Office

She knocked once.

"Come in," came that low, even voice.

Lexi stepped in.

Her heels made soft clicks against the floor, her perfume trailing confidence. But her pulse—well, it skipped just once when her eyes met his.

Ethan Blackwood sat behind a sleek glass desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, wristwatch glinting under the light. His jaw was carved from quiet authority, brows furrowed slightly in concentration over a document.

Until he looked up.

His eyes landed on her, and something — subtle but undeniable — shifted in the air.

A flicker of recognition.

Then, something more.

Curiosity. Interest. A pause held just a moment too long.

She caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth — not quite a smirk, not quite approval. Something in between. Something quietly dangerous.

"Miss Thompson," he said, his voice low but clear. "You're early."

"I set three alarms," she replied, her voice level. "Didn't want to risk being late for a meeting with the CEO."

The corner of his mouth curved. Barely. But it was there.

She took her seat, opened her folder. "I've reviewed the materials Ava sent over — venue access, the donor guest list draft, and your notes on themes. I flagged a few conflicts and drafted ideas for segmenting the VIP experience."

He listened, fingers tapping his pen lightly. Occasionally, he interrupted — never harsh, just deliberate. Polished. Exact.

Together, their exchange unfolded like a dance — balanced and sharp.

But every so often…

She felt it.

His gaze.

Lingering. Quietly attentive. Not inappropriate — but unmistakable.

At one point, as she scribbled notes in her pad, she glanced up and caught him watching her.

He didn't look away fast enough.

"Something wrong?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

A flicker of humor passed through his expression. "No," he said simply. "Just… different."

"Different?"

He leaned back slightly, assessing. "You've… recalibrated."

Lexi arched a brow. "Is that CEO-speak for 'you dressed up today'?"

Another flicker — this one warmer.

"Let's say I notice details," he replied. "And details… speak."

She ducked her head to hide the blush threatening her cheeks and returned to her notes. But inwardly, she replayed those words — details speak.

Like the detail of their first encounter.

How she hadn't looked up before crashing into him.

How she spilled hot coffee down his suit.

How she sent a wristwatch with a note that read:

"Take the time to fix your character."

The man didn't forget.

Neither did she.

They wrapped up the logistics — agreed on deliverables, timelines, access rights. He gave her clearance to a new internal system for RSVP tracking and donor tiers. And as she gathered her materials—

"I expect your preliminary breakdown by Thursday," he said.

"You'll have it."

She was about to rise when his voice cut through again — softer this time.

"And, Miss Thompson?"

She paused mid-step.

"I hope you're aware — potential is loud when it finally stops apologizing for itself."

The words landed in her chest like a stone skipped across water.

Lexi met his eyes, surprised at the softness there. She nodded, something unreadable in her throat.

"…Thank you," she murmured.

Back in the hallway, her heels once again echoed in steady rhythm.

Only this time, each step felt like a statement.

She didn't need anyone to say it.

She had felt it in the air between them, in the glances across the room, in the approval tucked into Ava's smile.

Something had shifted.

She wasn't the girl chasing the room anymore

She was the woman commanding it.

And for the first time in a long time — Lexi Thompson had arrived.