Chapter 2 First Day Jitters

My weekend was filled with worry and nervous energy. I spent the entire time reading about Blackwood Industries, until my eyes hurt from staring at my laptop screen. The company was everywhere – tech, property, media – a huge empire built by one man in a decade.

Alexander Blackwood, the man who offered me a job on the spot despite my dripping hair and a wet portfolio.

Every article described him in the same way: genius, cold, and mysterious. A money wizard child with ice in his veins. Most times, pictures captured him dressed in immaculate suits sporting the same impenetrable face I'd witnessed firsthand.

None of that explained why he'd interviewed me in person. Or why I couldn't stop thinking about those ice-blue eyes.

Monday morning, I arrived at Blackwood Tower forty-five minutes ahead of time. No rain, no car problems, and not a snowball's chance in Hell of being late.

The same security guard from Friday smiled in greeting. "Ah, the interview girl. Looking drier today."

"And hopefully making a better impression," I replied, smoothing out my freshly pressed blouse.

The elevator trip was blessedly smooth, though my heart skipped a beat as we hit the 32nd floor. Alexander Blackwood's office. Would I get to see him today? The possibility made my stomach lurch in a most unexpected flutter.

My destination was the 28th floor – where the creative team sat. The doors opened, and I entered a sleek open-plan office with glass-enclosed conference rooms and tons of natural light. Light years from the cramped studio where I'd worked freelance.

"Olivia!"

Jason Kim waved from across the room, spreading a warm smile that instantly quieted my jitters. Dark wash jeans and a button-down with an open collar – significantly less formal than the suit he wore on Friday.

"You did it," he said, covering the distance to me in a few steps. "And well ahead of nine. Excellent course correction from our first meeting."

His teasing tone made me laugh. "I set three alarms and slept in my clothes."

"Good plan. Come on, let me show you around before the morning meeting."

Jason took me through the department, presenting me to a whirlwind of individuals whose names I forgot as soon as I heard them. The creative personnel looked young and friendly, although I caught two or three inquisitive glances.

"Don't mind them," Jason whispered. "It's just that Mr. Blackwood never gets his hands dirty when it comes to hiring junior designers. You've been sort of an enigma."

"Great," I muttered. "Just what I need – more attention."

"It's not terrible," Jason insisted. "Actually, you might be able to turn it to your advantage. Whatever he was impressed with might be your ticket to larger projects."

We came to a small corner cubicle with a new iMac and a sticky note that said only "Gray."

"Home sweet home," Jason announced. "Settle in. Morning meeting in fifteen."

I sat by myself and arranged my personal items – a small potted plant, an extra set of flats, and my favorite pens. I had just been sitting down at the computer when a black paper cup appeared beside me.

"Office coffee is toxic sludge. This will help you live through your first day."

I glanced up as Jason placed before me what was the scent of an expensive latte.

"You didn't have to do that," I said to him, taking the cup from him gratefully.

He shrugged. "Consider it a welcome gift. Not everyone gets the Blackwood fast-track treatment."

There was an undercurrent to his tone that I couldn't quite place – curiosity, maybe even suspicion.

"Believe me, I have no idea why he brought me on board," I said honestly. "My interview was a nightmare."

Jason glared at me for an instant. "Well, Mr. Blackwood doesn't do anything without there being a reason for it. I'm sure he saw something special."

Before I could respond, a stern voice cut through the office chatter.

"Team meeting! Lion's Den, everyone, now!"

Individuals immediately started pouring into the biggest conference room. Jason grinned at me reassuringly. "That's Claire, our creative director. Don't worry, her bark is worse than her bite. Most of the time."

The conference room was filled by the time we got there. Jason led me to a seat against the wall while he sat at the table. The woman who must be Claire stood at the front – tall, silver-haired, with hip glasses and an authoritative air.

"Good morning, everyone," she began. "Today, we have two announcements of note. First, hello to our new junior designer, Olivia Gray."

Everyone looked at me. I smiled and waved a little, my cheeks burning.

"Second," Claire continued, "the Archer luxury account has been pushed forward. We turn concepts around in two weeks, not four."

Groans circled the room.

"I know, I know," Claire held up her hands. "But it's our biggest account, so everyone is pulling their weight. Jason will be overseeing creative."

Jason sat up in his chair, grinning but surprised.

"Questions?" Claire asked.

A designer at the other end of the table raised his hand. "Will Mr. Blackwood be in on it? Last time he tore our ideas apart three days prior to the presentation."

Claire's face tightened. "Mr. Blackwood has shown a particular interest in this campaign, yes. Which means everything has to be superb. Now, team assignments."

She began naming and assigning jobs. I held my breath to discover where I was being put.

"And finally," Claire declared, "Olivia will work specifically with Jason on the overall concept development."

The room went silent. Some exchanged glances.

"But she just joined," someone muttered.

Claire talked over the comment. "All right, folks. Progress daily at four o'clock."

As everyone was leaving, Jason approached with a confused look.

"Good, that's not like that," he leaned forward. "Junior designers usually start with production, not concepts."

My stomach constricted. "I did not ask for special favors."

"I know. But you seem to have it." He checked his watch. "Let's get a meeting room. I'll catch you up on the Archer account."

We opened a small glass-walled room Jason called "The Fishbowl." He had presentation slides open on his tablet, showing upmarket watches with sleek designs and prices that are out of anyone's imagination.

"Archer must make appeals to young technology billionaires," Jason explained to me. "Their traditional advertising won't cut it anymore."

I nodded, noting down while trying to ignore the occasional curious stare of co-workers walking by.

The door came open abruptly. Claire stood before us, looking disheveled.

"Jason, Olivia ... Mr. Blackwood wants to see you two. Now."

Jason's eyebrows shot up. "About Archer?"

"He wouldn't say why," Claire said coldly. "Just go to his office immediately."

My heart was pounding as we rode the elevator to the 32nd floor. Jason wasn't any more relaxed.

"Any idea why this is going on?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "Best thing to do with Blackwood – keep quiet more than you talk, and never give an excuse."

The elevator opened right into a reception room where behind the desk was a stern-faced woman.

"Mr. Kim and Ms. Gray," she said without glancing up. "Go in."

Alexander Blackwood was standing by the window, facing away from us, phone pressed against his ear. Another perfect suit was on his shoulders this time, dark blue that brought out the width of his shoulders.

"I don't care what the board thinks," he was saying to whoever was on the other end, his voice ice-cold. "Either they trust my judgment to make a good decision or they can fire me as CEO."

He hung up and faced us.

My breath caught. I'd forgotten how overwhelming his presence was – as if air pressure changed when he walked into a room.

"Kim," he nodded by way of greeting. And then his eyes locked onto mine. "Ms. Gray."

"Mr. Blackwood," we both replied.

He walked over to his desk, gesturing for us to take seats across from him.

"The Archer campaign," he said flatly. "Their CEO called me last night. They're going in another direction."

Jason leaned forward. "Sir, we've had three years' experience working with them..."

"And they've grown fat and complacent off our work," Blackwood broke in. "As have we. They require to be challenged with something revolutionary, not satisfactory."

His focus shifted to me. "That's where you fit in, Ms. Gray."

I blinked. "Me?"

"Your portfolio showcased an outlook our department is currently missing. Fresh, outside the box." His gaze never breaking contact with mine. "I require you to lead the concept generation."

Jason gagged in the seat beside me.

"Sir," I said warily, "I'm new today. I don't know anything about the client or..."

"No preconceptions then," Blackwood interrupted. "That's frequently an advantage to being new. Sometimes not knowing is a virtue."

I looked at him wide-eyed. "But..."

"I've decided." His voice left no room for argument. "You'll be working with Kim directly, but the creative vision is yours."

Jason found his voice. "Mr. Blackwood, if I might, this is entirely out of the norm. Olivia has not been trained in our protocols or..."

"Then train her." Blackwood's eyes flashed with irritation. "I brought Ms. Gray in because I saw potential. Show me right." He directed those last words at me.

No pressure whatsoever.

"Yes, sir," I stuttered.

"Good. I need a preliminary idea on Friday." He looked at his watch. "That's all."

We were going to leave, my legs trembling.

"Ms. Gray," Blackwood called as we reached the door. "A word."

Jason looked between us, then nodded. "I'll wait outside."

When the door closed, leaving me with Blackwood, the office felt suddenly too cramped.

"Are you always this shy?" he demanded.

The question surprised me. "Excuse me?"

"You have talent, Ms. Gray. But talent is useless without confidence."

I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, embarrassment and a surge of indignation.

"It is my first day," I said, more bluntly than I intended. "And you just left me in charge of your biggest account."

Something that might have been amusement flickered across his face.

"There she is," he said quietly.

"Who?"

"The woman who complained she was tired of eating ramen five nights a week. The one who had to prove herself." He took another step forward. "That's the one I hired. Not this nervous individual who apologizes for existing."

I didn't know what to respond with. He was standing so close that I could smell his cologne, something high-end and subtle.

"I don't understand why you're doing this," I finally managed to say.

He stared at me for a long, long time. "Perhaps I see something in you that you don't see in yourself."

The door swung open before I could get out anything. Vanessa Sharp walked in, perfect in a cream-colored dress that probably cost more than my rent.

She stopped when she saw me. "Oh. You're still here."

Blackwood's expression grew icy. "Ms. Gray was just leaving."

Vanessa smiled, all teeth, no warmth. "How lovely to see you again, Olivia. Getting settled in okay?"

"Yes, thanks," I replied, though all of her made me want to flee.

"Alex is an excellent mentor," she cooed, looping her arm through his. "Aren't you, darling?"

Blackwood removed her arm from his with a subtle but firm motion. "Ms. Gray has work to do. As do I."

I took that as my cue to get a quick exit. "Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Blackwood."

Just as I got to the door, I overheard Vanessa whisper, "Really, Alex? She's not your type at all."

I didn't hear his response, but as the door closed behind me, I felt the weight of his eyes on my spine.

Jason was waiting by the elevator, concern on his face.

"What was that about?"

I shook my head, still attempting to rationalize it. "He believes I'm not self-assured enough."

"And Vanessa Sharp?" Jason asked, his expression becoming serious. "What did she want?"

"Do you know her?"

The doors of the elevator opened, and we stepped inside.

"Everyone knows Vanessa," he growled. "Blackwood's ex. She's the daughter of Richard Sharp, who owns our biggest competitor."

The elevator started its descent.

"They were dating last year," Jason continued. "Until Blackwood caught her feeding company secrets to her father. Instead of bringing charges, he just broke off the engagement. No one knows why."

My mind was reeling. "But she's still pretending like they're a couple."

Jason's laugh was acid. "Vanessa doesn't lose what she wants. And she wants Blackwood, or his company, or both."

The elevator arrived on our floor.

"Word to the wise," Jason told me as we stepped out. "Whatever game Blackwood's playing in giving you this assignment, be careful. You're on Vanessa's radar now. And that's never a good thing to be."

My stomach dropped. First day on the job, and already I was caught in the crosshairs of a ruthless billionaire and his angry ex.

What had I gotten myself into?