Bound To The Billionaire's Heart

The rain struck the glass like tiny needles, each drop sharp against Ariana Greene's skin as she stood under the towering Blackwood Empire building. She clutched her worn leather folder, trying to suppress the tremor in her hands.

One step into that building could change her life - or destroy what was left of it.

Her father's voice echoed in her head. "We don't bend for people like them, Ariana."

Well, that was before they crushed his company and sent him into bankruptcy.

She inhaled sharply and pushed the doors open. The lobby swallowed her into a world of steel, glass, and quiet power. The marble floor reflected her nervous footsteps as she approached the front desk.

The receptionist glanced at her like one might glance at a stray leaf blown in by accident.

"Name?"

"Ariana Greene. I have an interview scheduled with Mr. Damien Blackwood."

The receptionist's eyebrows lifted slightly, and Ariana could almost hear her silent judgment. "Please wait."

Ariana sat, watching the endless stream of powerful men and women in tailored suits glide across the lobby, like sharks circling invisible prey. She adjusted her simple navy blouse, wishing it looked more expensive. The few remaining dollars in her account wouldn't have stretched to a designer wardrobe.

Finally, the receptionist nodded. "Take the private elevator. 43rd floor."

Her stomach twisted as she stepped inside the sleek silver box. The doors closed, and for a moment she was alone with her reflection. Her auburn hair was frizzing from the rain, but her green eyes held steady. She couldn't afford to show fear. Not today.

The elevator doors opened to a world of cold elegance: frosted glass walls, chrome finishes, minimalistic black leather furniture. And behind a massive glass desk sat Damien Blackwood.

He didn't look up at first. The weight of his presence filled the room even in his silence.

Ariana stepped forward. "Good afternoon, Mr. Blackwood."

His eyes finally lifted. Steel gray, piercing, detached. His tailored suit fit him with surgical precision. The air seemed to chill.

"You're late," he said, voice low and even.

Her throat dried. "I apologize. The rain-"

"I don't care about the rain." His fingers tapped the desk. "Why do you want this job, Miss Greene?"

Straight to the point. No warmth. No polite small talk.

She swallowed her pride. "Because I need it. And because I'm qualified."

"Hundreds are qualified."

"Then hire them. But they won't care like I will." The words slipped out before she could stop them.

For the first time, a flicker crossed his expression. Amusement? Curiosity?

He stood slowly, walking around the desk, circling her like a hawk assessing prey.

"I've read your file. Your father ran Greene Tech. Impressive, until it collapsed. My company acquired your patents."

Her jaw clenched. She had rehearsed for this moment, but hearing it aloud made her stomach churn.

"Yes," she said simply.

He leaned in slightly, voice softer but colder. "So you despise me, Miss Greene."

"I despise what you represent," she answered, eyes meeting his. "But I separate business from personal."

He smiled - barely. "Careful. Honesty in this building is dangerous."

There was a long pause. Then he turned away, walking back to his desk.

"You'll start Monday. 7 a.m. Don't be late again."

Ariana blinked. That was it?

"Thank you, Mr. Blackwood."

He didn't reply. Only lifted a file, already dismissing her existence.

As she left the office, her heart pounded. She had stepped into the belly of the beast - but somehow survived Round One.

You're in now, she told herself.

Now the real game begins.