(Elena POV)
Three weeks.
That's how long it took for my life to pretend it was normal again.
Three weeks of job applications, instant noodles, and trying not to replay that night in my head. I told myself it was a dream,something wild I'd made up after too much whiskey and heartbreak. But every night, when I closed my eyes, I saw him again. His eyes,his lips,his hands. The way he'd said, "You can still leave."
And the way I hadn't.
It was supposed to be forgotten. A secret I'd bury somewhere between my regrets and the rain.
Then I got the email.
Subject: Interview Invitation – Blackwood Enterprises
From: HR Department
Date: Monday, 9:30 AM
I almost deleted it. I didn't even remember applying there. Blackwood Enterprises was one of the largest private corporations in New York, the kind of company that belonged to men in thousand-dollar suits and women who carried designer handbags instead of grocery lists. People like me didn't get interviews there.
Still, desperation has a way of silencing logic. So I ironed my least wrinkled blouse, tied my hair up, and walked into the skyscraper that scraped the clouds.
The lobby was marble and glass, cold and intimidating. My heels clicked too loudly as I approached the front desk.
"Elena Monroe, here for an interview," I said, forcing a smile.
The receptionist: a sleek woman in all black, gave me a professional nod. "Twentieth floor, ma'am. HR will meet you there."
I thanked her and stepped into the elevator. My reflection stared back at me in the mirrored walls:nervous eyes, trembling lips, cheap blazer. You can do this, I told myself. It's just another job interview.
But deep down, I had no idea that the elevator was taking me straight into my past.
The HR meeting went smoothly. Too smoothly, actually. A woman named Karen asked a few polite questions about my marketing background, then smiled like she already knew the outcome.
"We're expanding our communications department," she said. "And your experience aligns perfectly. The CEO personally reviews final candidates. If you're chosen, you'll meet him tomorrow morning."
"The CEO?" I asked, surprised. "I thought-"
"He likes to be involved in hiring," she interrupted. "Mr. Blackwood believes every person on his team should matter."
That name hit me like a thunderclap.
Blackwood.
I felt the air leave my lungs, though I told myself it couldn't be him. There were probably hundreds of Blackwoods in New York. It had to be a coincidence. Right?
Still, when I left the building, my heart was a mess of panic and curiosity. I couldn't shake the feeling that fate wasn't done with me yet.
The next morning, I returned early this time: my stomach in a tight knot. I was led into a conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows and told, "Mr. Blackwood will see you shortly."
I waited, counting my breaths, trying not to imagine him walking through the door.
Then the door opened.
And my world stopped.
He walked in, crisp black suit, the same quiet power that had filled the hotel room that night. The same eyes. The same presence that made everything else fade.
Adrian Blackwood.
He froze for just a second when he saw me. It was enough. His jaw tightened, his gaze flickered with recognition, but his expression quickly smoothed into professional calm.
"Elena Monroe," he said evenly, extending a hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
My fingers shook as they touched his. "M-Mr. Blackwood."
If he remembered me and he had to:he didn't show it. Not a flicker, not a word.
"Please, have a seat," he said.
I sat. The world tilted.
He began the interview like it was any other:asking about my past roles, my strengths, my weaknesses. But every word felt like a game we were both pretending not to play.
"So," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You're looking for a fresh start?"
The phrase sliced through me. He remembered. I could see it in the subtle quirk of his lips.
"Yes," I managed. "Something stable."
He nodded slowly, eyes locked on mine. "Stability is valuable. Hard to find in a city like this."
Silence stretched between us,sharp, electric. Then he closed the file in front of him.
"You're hired."
My breath caught. "What?"
"I'll have HR finalize the paperwork. You'll start Monday as my personal communications assistant."
"I- I don't understand. There were other candidates, more qualified-"
"I make the final decision," he said simply. "And I want you."
Those words hit me harder than they should have.
I wanted to protest, to ask if this was some cruel joke but the look in his eyes silenced me.
Like he was daring me to remember that night.
When I left the office, my pulse was a storm in my veins. I leaned against the elevator wall, trying to breathe.
It couldn't be real. It shouldn't be real.
But it was.
The man I'd spent one reckless night with, the man I'd thought I'd never see again was now my billionaire boss.
And if I was honest with myself, the thought of being near him every day terrified me... almost as much as it thrilled me.
That weekend, I barely slept. I rehearsed what I'd say, how I'd act, how I'd pretend we were strangers. But when Monday came, all that confidence evaporated the moment I stepped into his office.
He was standing by the window, the city skyline behind him like a crown. When he turned, his gaze landed on me: steady, unreadable, too intense.
"Good morning, Miss Monroe," he said.
"Good morning, Mr. Blackwood."
He studied me for a beat longer than necessary. Then, softly:
"Let's agree on something before we start."
My stomach twisted. "Okay."
"Whatever happened before this office," he said carefully, "stays there. It doesn't exist. Do we understand each other?"
I nodded, even though part of me wanted to scream that it did exist that I still felt it, still dreamed of it.
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
He gave a curt nod. "Good. Then welcome to Blackwood Enterprises."
He turned back to the window, hands in his pockets. I stood there, heart pounding, realizing two terrifying truths.
One: I'd just agreed to bury the most intimate night of my life.
And two: working for him meant seeing him every day:smelling his cologne, hearing that voice, feeling the magnetic pull that neither of us could name.
I walked out of his office on shaking legs, pretending to breathe normally.
But deep down, I knew something had already begun.
Not love, not yet. Something darker,stronger and Inevitable.
And no matter how much I tried to stay professional, I couldn't stop thinking one thing:
" I'm working for the man who ruined my ability to forget
