The moment Amelia walked into the office that morning, something felt different. The air was heavier, as if something invisible had shifted beneath the sleek walls and glossy marble floors of Blackthorne Enterprises.
Her inbox was flooded with emails marked "urgent" — meetings she hadn't scheduled, responsibilities she didn't remember agreeing to. And yet all of them bore the subtle stamp of Liam Blackthorne's influence.
A calendar invite blinked at her: One-on-one with Mr. Blackthorne. 10:30 AM.No context. No assistant's signature. Just his name.
By the time the clock struck ten, Amelia was already pacing her office, palms slightly damp. Her mind raced through every conversation they'd had over the past week. Their late-night phone calls under the guise of discussing strategy, the subtle touches — a hand brushing hers, a gaze that lingered too long. And then there were the cold, calculated decisions he made in meetings, as if she were a pawn he was placing in a very specific position on his personal chessboard.
He was drawing her in… and tightening his grip.
A soft chime from the elevator interrupted her thoughts.
He walked in like he always did — silent power cloaked in tailored charcoal-gray. His eyes found her instantly, unreadable as ever. "Amelia," he greeted, voice low, intimate. "I thought we could talk somewhere quieter."
Quieter?
He didn't wait for her response. Instead, he motioned toward the private conference room attached to his office — a room very few people were ever invited into.
She hesitated, but followed.
The room was dimly lit, the tall windows shaded from the morning sun. There were no assistants, no interruptions, no sound but the faint ticking of the wall clock. He motioned for her to sit, and took the chair across from her — closer than necessary.
"I've noticed some… distance lately," he began, leaning back slightly. "Is something bothering you?"
Amelia swallowed. "No. Just a lot on my plate."
He tilted his head. "Which is why I've taken the liberty of reassigning some of your smaller projects. I want you focused on something bigger."
She blinked. "Bigger?"
He slid a folder across the table. Inside: the proposal for a new international expansion — Europe, South America, Asia. A massive undertaking. Her name was listed as co-lead.
Her breath caught. "This… this is huge."
"Yes," he said simply. "It will make your career."
She looked up. His gaze was unwavering.
"But why me?"
"You've proven yourself," he said. "You're talented, dedicated. And—" his voice dropped an octave, "I trust you."
The last words hung between them. Heavy. Intentional.
Amelia's heartbeat quickened.
But trust, coming from Liam, was always double-edged.
She set the folder down. "And what do you get out of this?"
A faint smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "Control, of course. I always like to know where my people are."
The answer was both a joke and a warning.
Her mind flashed back to the message she'd overheard weeks ago. The cryptic conversation about revenge. She still didn't know who it had been about, but the deeper she sank into Liam's world, the more suffocated she began to feel.
"Is this about loyalty?" she asked. "Because if you're trying to buy it—"
"I don't buy loyalty," he interrupted, his tone sharpening. "I earn it. And I reward it."
Her hands curled into fists beneath the table. "What if I don't want rewards?"
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Then you shouldn't be here."
For a moment, silence stretched like a wire between them. Taut. Threatening to snap.
Then, just as quickly, he stood and walked to the window, pushing the shades open. Sunlight flooded in, catching on the angles of his face, the faint scar by his brow.
"I know I'm not easy to work with, Amelia," he said, without looking at her. "But I see potential in you. The kind that people spend their lives wasting."
She stood too, slowly. "And if I say no to this project?"
He turned to her then. His expression was unreadable. "Then I'll have no choice but to find someone else."
It was a test. Of ambition. Of loyalty. Of her limits.
Her lips parted, then closed again. She wanted to scream at him, to ask why he was always playing these games. But something deeper held her back — that dark pull she couldn't shake, the part of her that wanted to understand him, even when she knew she shouldn't.
Before she could answer, a knock sounded on the conference room door.
Julian Crane.
He stepped in with the usual swagger, dressed in a slate-blue suit and an amused smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
Liam's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You are."
Julian's gaze slid to Amelia. "Ms. Hale, a word?"
Liam didn't move as Amelia stepped past him, her heels clicking softly on the floor.
Julian waited until they were alone in the hallway before speaking. "Be careful," he said under his breath.
"With what?"
"With him," Julian nodded toward the door. "He's not just offering you a promotion. He's building a cage."
Her breath hitched. "You don't even know what we were talking about."
"I don't have to. I've known Liam long enough to recognize the look in his eyes. He's trying to claim something he hasn't earned."
Amelia looked away. "And what do you want, Julian?"
He paused. "I want you to see clearly. Before it's too late."
She didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because part of her already knew — Liam wasn't just offering her a new role. He was offering her a future... one laced with golden threads and invisible chains.
And worst of all?
A part of her still wanted it.