Chapter 1 The Interview
I had promised myself I would never enter Blackwood Tower.
Yet there I stood.
Twenty-seven floors above the city, staring at the name engraved across the glass doors of the most powerful company in the country.
BLACKWOOD ENTERPRISES.
My palms were sweating.
Not because I was nervous about the interview.
Because of the man who owned the building.
Adrian Blackwood.
For ten years, I had heard his family's name spoken in whispers.
Ten years ago, my father died in an accident that was supposedly caused by faulty machinery at a Blackwood construction site.
The company denied responsibility.
The case disappeared.
And my family was left with nothing.
But my mother never believed it was an accident.
Neither did I.
That was why I had applied for this job.
I needed money, yes.
But more importantly, I needed answers.
The elevator doors opened on the twenty-seventh floor.
A woman behind the reception desk looked up.
“Miss Carter?”
I nodded.
“Mr. Blackwood is expecting you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Thank you.”
She pointed toward a set of enormous double doors.
I walked toward them.
Three knocks.
“Come in.”
The voice on the other side was deep.
Cold.
Commanding.
I opened the door.
And forgot how to breathe.
Adrian Blackwood stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows with his back toward me.
He was wearing a perfectly fitted black suit, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a phone.
He ended the call without looking at me.
Then he turned.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
He was even more intimidating than his photographs.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Impossibly handsome.
And completely emotionless.
His gaze moved slowly over me before settling on my face.
“You're Amelia Carter.”
It wasn't a question.
“Yes.”
“Close the door.”
I did.
“Sit.”
I sat opposite his desk.
He remained standing.
“Why do you want this job?”
“I need the opportunity.”
“That isn't an answer.”
I looked up.
His eyes were fixed on mine.
“I want to work for a company where I can grow.”
He walked toward the desk.
“You're overqualified.”
My heart skipped.
“I don't understand.”
“You have a degree in business management. You speak three languages. You worked for two international companies.”
He placed my résumé on the desk.
“So why apply to be my personal assistant?”
I forced myself to smile.
“Because the position pays well.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
More like amusement.
“At least you're honest.”
He sat down.
Then he opened a drawer.
My breath caught.
He pulled out a photograph.
An old photograph.
He placed it on the desk between us.
I stared at it.
My blood ran cold.
It was a photograph of my father.
I looked up sharply.
“Where did you get that?”
Adrian didn't answer.
Instead, he asked quietly,
“Did your mother tell you what really happened to him?”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“What does my father have to do with this interview?”
His expression hardened.
“Everything.”
I stood.
“You knew who I was before I came here.”
“Yes.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
“You knew my name?”
“I knew your name before you walked through that door.”
“Then why did you interview me?”
He leaned back in his chair.
“Because I wanted to see whether you'd come looking for me.”
I couldn't speak.
He had known.
All along.
Adrian picked up the photograph and slid it back into the drawer.
Then he looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand.
“Your father wasn't killed by an accident, Amelia.”
My heart stopped.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying someone wanted him dead.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
His jaw tightened.
“That's what I'm trying to find out.”
Silence filled the room.
Then he stood and walked toward me.
He stopped only inches away.
I could smell his cologne.
My heart was beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
“There's one condition if you accept this job.”
I swallowed.
“What condition?”
His eyes dropped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes.
“You don't investigate your father's death without telling me.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever killed your father…”
He leaned closer.
“…may come after you next.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
I should have walked away.
I should have rejected the job.
Instead, I whispered,
“When do I start?”
His eyes darkened.
“Tomorrow.”
I turned toward the door.
“Amelia.”
I stopped.
“There's one more thing.”
I looked back.
His expression was unreadable.
“Don't fall in love with me.”
I almost laughed.
“Trust me, Mr. Blackwood. That's not going to happen.”
His gaze held mine.
“That's what everyone says.”
I left the office without looking back.
But I didn't see the expression that crossed Adrian Blackwood's face after the door closed.
Regret.
Because he knew something I didn't.
Something that would change everything.
My father hadn't been Adrian Blackwood's enemy.
He had been his father's.
And ten years ago, before my father died…
Adrian had been there.
