Chapter 5: The truth revealed
Lexi sat frozen at her desk, her brain still buffering.
She had just handed over the gala concept to the executive assistant upstairs — cool, elegant, terrifying — and on her way out, one sentence had detonated everything:
> "Yes. Mr. Blackwood as in… Ethan Blackwood."
Lexi hadn't even made it back to her seat before she started panicking.
The Ethan Blackwood.
The man she spilled coffee on.
The one she insulted in writing.
And now... she worked for him.
She dropped into her chair, trying to calm her pulse. Maya peeked over the divider.
"You're pale. Like, vampire-pale. Are you okay?"
Lexi forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just... long day."
Maya didn't look convinced. "You went upstairs. That place always gives me hives."
"Yeah. Same." Lexi turned back to her computer quickly, praying she wouldn't press.
She didn't. But Lexi's email did.
> Subject: Meeting – 2:30 PM
From: Marina – Executive Office
Message: Mr. Blackwood would like to speak with you about the gala concept. Please be prompt.
Lexi stared at the screen. Her fingers went cold.
He knows.
At 2:28 PM, Lexi stepped into the elevator, her heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to doom. She double-checked her blouse, her breath, her grip on reality.
When she reached the top floor, Marina greeted her with that same unreadable smile.
"He's ready for you."
Lexi knocked on the door.
"Come in," came the deep, measured voice from inside.
She stepped into the office, half-expecting to combust on sight.
Ethan Blackwood stood behind a sleek black desk, the Manhattan skyline a shadowy kingdom behind him. His charcoal suit looked criminally expensive. His gaze—cool, unreadable—lifted to hers.
Lexi stiffened. "Mr. Blackwood."
"Miss Thompson," he said, motioning for her to sit.
She did, carefully. Her back straight. Her hands steady only because she forced them to be.
"I read your proposal," he said.
Lexi swallowed. "And?"
He set a hand on the folder beside him. "Bold. A little chaotic. But... interesting."
She wasn't sure if that was praise or a polite warning.
"I'm giving you full creative control of the gala," he continued. "But you'll answer directly to me. Weekly meetings. Updates. No surprises."
Lexi nodded. "Understood."
He leaned back slightly, his eyes still on her. "Tell me, Miss Thompson… do you always send sarcastic apology letters with luxury timepieces?"
Her stomach dropped.
He remembered.
Lexi's mouth opened, then shut.
"I—" she stammered. "I didn't know who you were."
His lips twitched — not quite a smile. "Clearly."
"I'm sorry," she blurted. "About the coffee. And the note. It was a bad day and I thought you were...
"An arrogant stranger," he finished for her. "With a broken watch."
She flushed.
A pause stretched between them like wire.
"Fortunately," he said smoothly, "I'm not easily offended."
Lexi couldn't tell if he was toying with her or genuinely amused.
He stood, signaling the meeting was over. "Your concept has potential. Let's see if your execution can match it."
She rose, gripping her file. "Thank you, Mr. Blackwood."
Just as she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Oh—and Miss Thompson?"
She looked back, bracing.
He met her eyes, calm and cool. "This time, try not to set anything on fire."
Her lips parted. But he was already turning away, dismissing her like a whisper.
Lexi walked out, pulse hammering, her heels wobbling just slightly.
And in her head, one thought screamed loud and clear:
I am in so much trouble.