Chapter 9: Private Task

Lexi's name echoed softly across the room like a loaded whisper. "Mr. Blackwood would like a word," Ava said, appearing at the edge of her desk with a calm face, but eyes slightly widened — as if she too wasn't entirely sure what this was about.

Lexi's heart stalled for a second. Around her, the office was still alive with quiet clicking of keyboards, muted phone calls, and the rustle of folders. But in her ears, it all faded.

She pushed her chair back slowly, legs stiff like they didn't belong to her. Her eyes flicked to Maya, who raised her brows and mouthed, What did you do?

Lexi swallowed hard. She didn't know. But she knew this wasn't ordinary.

As she followed Ava past the buzzing bullpen, the walk felt longer than it was. Like a red carpet made of nerves. She caught glimpses of glances — coworkers pretending not to look while very clearly watching.

Camille's voice rang out lightly, clipped with a hint of venom. "Getting cozy with the CEO already? Impressive."

Lexi didn't respond. She didn't have the energy, or the certainty, to fire back.

Inside, her head echoed with all the worst-case scenarios. Had he changed his mind? Was this a professional trap? Was she about to be scolded, demoted—or worse—fired?

Ava stopped outside the tall frosted-glass doors of Ethan's private office.

"He's expecting you."

Lexi gave a tight nod, took a breath, and knocked.

"Come in," came his low, deep voice.

The door clicked open. She stepped in.

The first thing she noticed, again, was how different his space felt. Sleek and minimalistic, like it belonged in a magazine, with shelves that probably cost more than her apartment. He stood by the wide window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a file.

He didn't look up immediately.

Her heels clicked once. Then silence.

Then — finally — he turned.

His gaze landed on her with sharp precision, as if he were seeing through her rather than at her.

"Ms. Thompson."

"Sir," she replied, resisting the urge to adjust her blouse under his quiet scrutiny.

He held up a thin folder. "This is a preliminary concept from a separate internal division. I'd like you to take it, break it down, and reimagine it. From scratch."

Lexi blinked. "Sir?"

"You're detail-oriented, and your idea for the Gala caught my attention. I want to see what you do when no one's guiding your hand."

Lexi's heart flipped.

This wasn't punishment.

It was... trust.

"You'll report directly to me on this side project," he added. "Keep it off the general threads. Especially Ava."

Her pulse quickened. "Understood."

He moved past her and set the folder on the table near the espresso machine. "Raw. Honest. Not corporate-speak. I want to know what your vision looks like before it gets filtered."

She stared at him, trying not to look too stunned. "Alright. I'll get started."

He met her eyes then. For the first time, something unreadable flickered behind his usual composure.

"You've made quite the impression."

Lexi froze. Not a smile. Not warmth. But something lingered in his tone. Something that made her stomach somersault.

"Good day, Ms. Thompson."

She turned to leave, legs shaky.

As she opened the door, he added without looking back, "And Lexi?"

She glanced over her shoulder.

"Don't screw it up."

Back at her desk, Maya practically launched over.

"Tell. Me. Everything."

Lexi gave a faint smile. "I can't. Confidential."

"Lex! Come on!" Maya whined. "At least blink twice if he gave you flowers. Or fired you. Or assigned you as his coffee taster."

Lexi chuckled. "None of the above."

Camille rolled her eyes. "It's always the newbies. All fluff and luck."

Maya stuck out her tongue when Camille wasn't looking.

Lexi sat, heart still rattling. She opened the file. Basic stats. Venue blueprints. But there was no clear theme. It was a blank canvas.

And she'd been given the brush.

That night, Lexi stayed later than usual. The office slowly emptied until the lights dimmed and only a few pools of gold glowed from desk lamps.

She sat by the window in the small common area, a notebook in hand, scribbling like her life depended on it. Words flowed — pieces of ideas, colors, feelings, sounds she wanted the event to evoke.

She didn't hear the footsteps until he was beside her.

"You're still here."

She jumped slightly. Ethan stood in crisp black, jacket over his arm.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

She shook her head. "Just... thinking."

His eyes flicked to her notebook. "Anything good?"

She hesitated, then turned the page toward him. Just a scribbled phrase: Light doesn't beg for attention. It just shines.

He studied it.

"You write like you feel too much."

She laughed nervously. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not always."

Their eyes met — not long, but long enough to make the air feel a little heavier. A little charged.

Then he nodded, turned, and walked away.

"Goodnight, Ms. Thompson."

Her pulse didn't calm until long after he was gone.

By the time Lexi packed up, the weight of the day finally hit her. She sat on the edge of her bed that night, fingers still tracing the spine of the folder.

Not everyone got a second chance to impress someone like Ethan Blackwood.

And now, she wasn't just planning an event.

She was carving a space in a world she never imagined she'd step into.

And for the first time — she wasn't afraid