The door to Mr. Blackwood's office clicked shut behind her, and Lexi didn't dare breathe until she'd made it halfway down the quiet corridor. Her heels echoed too loudly in the stillness, the silence wrapping around her like a spotlight.
She jabbed the elevator button harder than necessary, silently cursing herself.
"Try not to set this project on fire."
His words rang in her ears like a slow-burning echo. Calm. Cool. Delivered in that impossibly even tone of his. But it wasn't just the comment—it was the way he said it. Like he saw right through her. Like he hadn't forgotten the coffee, the panic, the flustered exit.
He remembered.
And now, so would she. Forever.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped in and immediately leaned against the wall, finally letting her posture relax.
She was three weeks into her job at Blackwood Signature Events. Just long enough to get the lay of the land—but not long enough to recover from being that girl who had accidentally baptized the CEO's designer watch in overpriced espresso.
Not that she'd ever admitted that to anyone. Not even Maya.
She rubbed her temples and groaned quietly.
Try not to set it on fire. Great. That was how Mr. Blackwood viewed her now. A walking hazard. A risk. A warning. The poster child for chaos.
She shouldn't care what he thought—but she did. Because in this world, perception could make or break you. Especially when the one perceiving you owned everything from the company to the marble floors she was walking on.
The elevator dinged. Lexi stepped out and squared her shoulders.
Back on her floor, things felt a little more familiar. Controlled chaos. Quiet phones ringing, fingers tapping across keyboards, teams shuffling between client briefs and branding decks. The scent of overbrewed office coffee drifted faintly in the air, mixed with someone's floral perfume and stress.
She passed a few colleagues, nodding politely, hoping her face didn't scream emotional meltdown in progress.
She made it to her desk and sank into her chair, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at her screen.
She'd built up a decent rhythm these last couple of weeks—knocking out assignments, learning Ava's perfectionist systems, and staying out of trouble. She came early, stayed late. She double-checked every email. She never said no to a task, even when it stretched her thin.
Lexi had spent years freelancing, juggling oddball clients, late-night deadlines, and more than a few near breakdowns.
There was one job she could never forget—an engagement party where the groom's ex showed up uninvited and smashed the champagne tower Lexi had built by hand. While trying to salvage the mess, she slipped on the marble floor and took down a tray of custom macarons in front of fifty horrified guests.
She'd cried in a bathroom stall for ten minutes, fixed her makeup with a stolen lipstick sample, and still managed to pull off the night with grace. Barely.
Getting this job felt like stepping into a whole new world—one that demanded polish, poise, and perfection.
And now?
Now she was in the spotlight.
Again.
Until now, she'd managed to fly under the radar—fast, competent, invisible. But there was no invisibility left after you scorched yourself into the memory of the company's CEO.
"You're back!" Maya's voice chirped behind her, followed by the unmistakable sound of her rolling chair scraping closer. "Tell me everything. Was he terrifying? Oh my God, is he as intense as everyone says?"
Lexi gave her a tight smile. "He's very focused."
"That's code for terrifying," Maya whispered. "What did he say? Was the meeting long? Did you breathe? Blink twice if you panicked."
"I didn't panic," Lexi muttered, logging into her project dashboard.
Maya gasped. "You didn't panic? Girl, teach me your ways. My hands start sweating just hearing his name. Mr. Blackwood walks like the air parts for him. Did he stare at you? You know—like that look?"
Lexi shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek. "He was... professional."
"Well, duh. Of course. He's a billionaire CEO, not a game show host. Still—what was he like? Is his office really at the very top floor with the full skyline view? Was there jazz music playing in the background? A glass of scotch? A secret villain lair?"
"Maya."
"Right. Sorry." Maya clutched her coffee like a lifeline. "I just never get used to how intense this place is. One mistake and boom—you're toast. I once sent a deck with the client's name misspelled and I swear Ava looked at me like I'd betrayed the bloodline."
Lexi snorted softly despite herself. "I triple-check client names now."
"Smart girl." Maya leaned in conspiratorially. "So... what did he say? Anything about the gala?"
Lexi straightened her posture and tried to refocus. "Just an introductory meeting. I'm officially on the gala team."
Maya's eyes widened. "You're kidding. Already? That's huge."
"I know."
Lexi turned back to her screen, clicking open the Blackwood Gala planning files. Her first official project meeting was with Ava tomorrow morning. No fluff. No training wheels. Just expectations.
And no room for failure.
She leaned forward, fingers poised above the keyboard, reviewing the brief with a sharpened focus. The color palette. The vendor list. Tentative schedules. She needed to know everything—anticipate questions, visualize the scope, absorb the pressure like a sponge.
Tonight, she'd go over the files again. She'd rehearse answers in the mirror if she had to. She would be ready.
Because failure wasn't an option.
Not when Mr. Blackwood was watching.
Not when she was this close to building the life she'd always dreamed of.
She clenched her jaw and began organizing her notes.
She hadn't come this far to mess it up now. She was going to prove that she belonged here—no matter what Mr. Blackwood thought of her past chaos.
She wasn't that girl anymore.
She'd show them.
She'd show him.
That evening, after a quiet ride home and a dinner she barely tasted, Lexi sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open and the gala brief spread out around her like a protective circle.
The apartment was small, but tidy. Candles flickered on the windowsill—lavender, for focus. Her old notebook sat beside her, pages filled with color codes, client preferences, lighting notes, and scribbled affirmations.
She clicked through the documents again, making mental notes as she reread the vendor roster and memorized the timeline. She'd already researched Ava's previous events—immaculate, dramatic, and always on time. Ava didn't tolerate mistakes. And Mr. Blackwood? He didn't seem to tolerate excuses.
Lexi checked the time: 11:47 PM.
She yawned, but didn't stop. She reorganized her files into labeled folders, renamed the decks, highlighted key tasks, and even wrote down potential questions Ava might ask.
When her eyelids began to droop, she reached for her pen and scribbled one last reminder in her planner:
"Confidence is quiet. Preparation is power."
She closed her laptop with a soft click and exhaled slowly, the kind that came after a storm—but al
so before one.
Tomorrow, she'd be ready.