TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

Days passed. One after the other, clean and empty.

No message. No conversation. Not even a casual remark that hinted at that kiss.

They saw each other, of course. This was Blackwood Towers, not a movie set. She submitted files to him. Passed him in the hall. Sat three rows across from him in the executive boardroom as he reviewed project updates.

And sometimes—only sometimes—their eyes met.

But there was no flicker of recognition. No twitch of a smirk. No echo of that moment in the hotel suite when he'd pressed her against the wall and made her forget her own name.

Just those unreadable eyes of his. Cool. Composed. Devastating.

She looked away first. Every time.

At first, Lexi had waited. Told herself maybe he needed time. That men like Ethan Blackwood didn't operate on normal rules, that maybe he'd reach out in his own way.

But silence was still silence.

And silence, day after day, hurts in a way no rejection ever could.

Maybe he was just curious. Maybe it had been a lapse in control. Maybe Scarlet was right — he was amused by her.

 "Dont think about things more than what it is. You're simply for his amusement, Nothing special."

So Lexi did what she always did. She boxed up the ache, locked it away behind a too-bright smile, and pushed forward.

She started wearing bolder colors again. Flirted with her eyeliner. Laughed more, louder. When Maya made inappropriate jokes, she didn't blush—she added worse ones. She gave Shasha chaotic commentary on dating apps she had no intention of downloading.

If he could act like nothing happened, then so could she.

Even if it still burned in quiet corners of her mind.

Friday afternoon, just before the office began to quiet, Lexi stopped by Ava's office.

"I was hoping to come in tomorrow," she said lightly. "I want to finish some spreadsheet logistics for the gala before next week eats me alive."

Ava glanced up from her screen. "Volunteering for overtime. Should I be suspicious?"

Lexi smiled. "Nah. Just clearing my head."

Ava nodded slowly. "Alright. Don't let the silence in here get to you."

Lexi offered a grin. "I bring my own chaos, don't worry."

Saturday came soft and slow.

Lexi's apartment smelled like vanilla shampoo and oat milk. She moved through her morning with quiet efficiency — hair twisted into a high bun, a swipe of lip gloss, a floral dress that floated mid-thigh. Comfortable, light. She wore flats and tied a denim jacket around her waist just in case.

It wasn't a fashion show.

It wasn't for anyone.

It was just her.

She grabbed coffee on the way in, then stepped into the elevator. The press of the 18 button felt strangely grounding. Familiar.

She didn't expect anything different from the day.

She didn't expect him.

Ethan had always known the floor Lexi worked on.

He knew what time she usually arrived. What coffee she brought in her hand. The way she sometimes hummed under her breath when the elevator stopped one floor too soon.

He wasn't supposed to know these things. He wasn't supposed to care.

But when he caught her image flickering across the building's live lobby feed that morning, every cell in his body seemed to pause.

There she was.

That dress. Those legs. The easy sway of her walk. A coffee cup clutched loosely in one hand, her phone in the other. Her hair was up, wisps curling at the edges. She looked relaxed. Bare. Real.

He leaned slightly closer to the monitor. It wasn't about surveillance — he just… needed a second longer.

He didn't know if it was love.

But it was something.

And he didn't know how to handle something soft without destroying it.

He remembered how her eyes had looked that night. Soft and searching. Open.

He'd kissed her like a man starved.

And then… he'd let silence build like a wall.

Because Lexi Thompson wasn't like the women he knew. She wasn't sharp edges and business politics. She had warmth in her voice and a laugh that made people stop what they were doing. She waved her arms when she talked. Bit her lip when she was concentrating. He didn't know her other friend's name — the dramatic one who sent audio essays and threats — but he knew Maya. Always beside her.

He knew that when Lexi smiled, it wasn't careful.

And he didn't know what to do with people like that.

Lexi worked in silence for hours, her legs tucked under her chair, coffee long gone, notes spread out like a chaotic rainbow. She hummed sometimes, broke into little gasps of victory when a cell auto-filled correctly.

At some point, her phone buzzed with back-to-back messages.

 Shasha: "WHY ARE YOU WORKING? I had picnic plans. I told you. Blanket. Strawberries. No talk about men."

Maya: "SPEAK FOR YOURSELF. I have a dinner date with an architect named Eli and I'm shaving for the first time in three months."

Lexi burst into laughter.

 Lexi: "I'm being productive. Some of us have dreams."

Shasha: "My dream is wine, fruit, and ignoring every red flag in sight."

Maya: "My dream is making bad decisions in candlelight."

Lexi wheezed.

> Shasha: "Don't laugh. If I catch you working late again, I'm marching into Blackwood Towers in slides and eyeliner and dragging you out."

Maya: "You're not dragging anything but drama, babe."

They were both unhinged. And Lexi loved them for it.

She smiled down at her phone.

Then returned to work.

She didn't notice the time until the lights flickered slightly. The clock ticked past 8 p.m.

She was so focused she didn't hear the elevator ding. Didn't hear the steps until a quiet voice reached her from behind.

"You missed a figure."

She jumped, breath catching.

Ethan stood just behind her chair.

Not in a suit. Just a rolled-sleeve shirt, dark trousers, no tie. Clean. Calm. Tall.

And terrifyingly close.

She looked back at the screen. "Where?"

He leaned down and reached for her pointer. Their fingers brushed.

Soft.

Unspoken.

Lexi froze.

She felt the heat spread from the brush of his skin to her neck.

He pointed. "There."

Her voice was barely there. "Thanks."

He didn't step back.

Neither did she.

But neither said a word.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "I should finish this."

"I'll wait."

She blinked. "You don't have to—"

"I want to."

So she finished, heart thudding like it knew secrets.

When she finally closed her laptop and gathered her things, she found him waiting outside her office, holding the elevator door open.

They walked side by side. Slowly. Quietly. Down the hallway and into the elevator, where the silence pulsed like a heartbeat.

She caught their reflection in the metal doors — how small she looked next to him. How still he stood.

Their arms nearly brushed.

Neither moved.

Outside, the air was cool.

He walked ahead slightly, opened the car door like it was instinct. Gentlemanly. Easy.

She slid in.

His car smelled like cedar and silence. The console was immaculate. Nothing out of place.

She reached for the stereo and tapped a button. Soft jazz spilled through.

He looked at her.

Just once.

But it lingered.

Neither of them spoke as they pulled into her street.

She gave quiet directions. He listened.

When they arrived, she reached for the handle—then paused.

"Thanks," she said softly.

He met her gaze. "Don't work that late again. Not alone."

She stepped out.

Didn't look back.

But he stayed until she reached her building, until the door closed behind her.

Only then did he exhale.

And drive into the night.

With her still lingering like warmth on his skin.