Chapter 1: The Interview

The rhythmic tapping of Elena Carter's heels echoed through the pristine marble hallway of Blackwood Enterprises. She adjusted the strap of her leather bag, gripping the recorder in her pocket like a lifeline. This interview could change everything.

Damien Blackwood wasn't just a billionaire—he was a mystery. Ruthless in business, elusive in the media, and devastatingly handsome, he was a man who never granted interviews. Yet, for some reason, he had agreed to speak to her.

As she approached the massive oak doors of his office, the receptionist gave her a polite nod. "Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you."

Elena took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

The room was cold, both in temperature and in atmosphere. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the New York skyline, the setting sun casting golden hues across the sleek, modern office. And there he was—Damien Blackwood.

He sat behind an enormous desk, clad in a dark navy suit that screamed power. His sharp, chiseled jaw was dusted with the hint of a five o'clock shadow, and his piercing gray eyes locked onto hers the moment she stepped in.

"Miss Carter," he said smoothly, his voice deep and commanding. "You're late."

Elena straightened her spine. "Traffic."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "I don't waste time on excuses. Sit."

She moved toward the chair opposite him, refusing to let his cold demeanor rattle her. "I appreciate you agreeing to this interview, Mr. Blackwood."

He leaned back, watching her with an unreadable expression. "I didn't agree to an interview, Miss Carter. I agreed to a conversation."

Her brows furrowed. "What's the difference?"

He folded his hands on the desk. "Interviews are predictable. I don't do predictable."

A chill ran down her spine, but she masked it with a steady gaze. "Then let's talk."

He regarded her for a moment, then stood, walking around the desk with slow, deliberate steps. "Tell me, Miss Carter, how far would you go for a story?"

Elena blinked at him. "I'm not sure I follow."

He stopped a mere foot away from her, his presence overwhelming. "I need something from you," he said. "A deal. An arrangement."

Her breath hitched. "What kind of arrangement?"

His eyes darkened, filled with something she couldn't quite decipher. "Be mine—just for a little while. And in return, I'll give you the story of a lifetime."

Her heart pounded. She came here for an article, not an offer she couldn't understand.

But one thing was clear.

Damien Blackwood was dangerous.

And she was walking straight into his trap.

---