Harper raised a brow. “For interns? Who also happen to be brand new transfers and weren’t even scheduled for that meeting? Yeah, sounds super likely.”
Maya ignored the teasing and reached for the envelope tucked into the bouquet. Her fingers trembled slightly as she slid the cream-colored card free.
No name.
Just one sentence.
Maya, I hope you have a beautiful day-as beautiful as you.
The handwriting was clean. Sharp. Masculine.
Her stomach flipped.
“I don’t like this,” she muttered.
Harper’s grin widened. “Because it’s flattering?”
“Because it’s weird,” Maya said, her voice low. “I don’t even know who sent it.”
“It’s romantic,” Harper corrected with a dramatic sigh. “Also, just a heads-up-Trina sent a last-minute memo this morning. Didn’t you see it?”
“I must’ve missed it,” Maya muttered, still staring at the card.
“Basically,” Harper went on, “we’re getting a visit from one of Blackwood’s major overseas clients. The big boss type. Trina said we’re to be on our best behavior – clear desks, proper dress code, all that.”
Maya’s head whipped up. “Today?”
“Yep. Apparently, it’s some long-standing partnership or whatever, and this guy only visits once a year.” Harper leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Though I doubt Trina meant ‘best behavior’ includes mysterious flower deliveries.”
“I told you, it’s not mine!”
But Maya didn’t get a chance to keep arguing.
Because the room went silent.
Again.
Only this time, it wasn’t whispers that followed.
It was reverent, shocked stillness.
Because Damien Blackwood had just walked in.
And he wasn’t alone.
James Horton, his senior personal assistant, followed closely behind. James wasn’t just staff-he was Damien’s shadow. Trusted, discreet, unshakably loyal. While Elle managed operations inside the company, James handled everything beyond it-travel, security, negotiations across continents. He was present for every high-stakes meeting, every critical decision. It was rumored he was one of only two people who knew the passcode to Damien Blackwood’s penthouse.
And now he was here.
Flanking them was an older gentleman-likely the overseas client everyone had been warned about. And Elle trailed just a step behind, tablet in hand, her eyes already sweeping the department, likely mapping the most efficient route for the impromptu tour.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
They weren’t supposed to see Damien Blackwood unless summoned. The CEO walking into the PR wing himself was like spotting a solar eclipse in winter.
Harper whispered, “Okay, no one said the boss himself would be doing the tour.”
Maya could barely hear her. Her blood was thundering in her ears.
Damien Blackwood didn’t look around aimlessly.
Every movement of his was purposeful. Controlled. Measured.
So when his gaze swept across the room and landed squarely on her desk-on the bouquet-there was no mistaking it.
He stopped.
Just briefly.
His expression didn’t change. Not a frown, not a twitch.
Too neutral.
But Maya saw it.
The flicker of tension in his jaw. The way his eyes moved from the bouquet to the card still trembling in her hand.
Damien’s jaw ticked. Subtle. Controlled.
Then his gaze slid-almost lazily-to her.
She stood frozen, card in hand, her breath caught in her throat.
He looked at her. Just for a second. Just long enough to see everything.
The flowers.
The cream envelope.
Her stunned face.
And then-nothing. His eyes moved on like she wasn’t even there.
But something had already shifted.
Like a switch flipped beneath the surface.
He said nothing. Offered no reaction.
Yet the temperature in the room seemed to drop five degrees.
Without a word, he continued walking alongside the client, with James at his side and Elle trailing just behind them.
But the moment didn’t pass unnoticed.
Harper turned to her, eyes wide. “Did you see that?”
Maya tried to play dumb. “See what?”
“The way he looked at you. Or the flowers. Or both.”
Maya swallowed hard, heart thudding. “Maybe he hates flowers on desks. Maybe it’s against some decorum policy or something.”
“Or,” Harper leaned in, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “he thinks someone’s breaking the no-fraternization rule.”
“What rule?”
Harper blinked. “You do know Damien Blackwood doesn’t tolerate office relationships, right? No flirting. No gossip. He’s strict about it. And now, out of nowhere, a new intern’s desk is graced with a mystery bouquet on the same day a high-profile client’s in the building?”
Maya’s stomach dropped.
“I’m going to get fired,” she whispered.
Harper’s eyebrows shot up. “What? No, come on. You don’t even know who it’s from!”
“Exactly. Which makes it worse!” Maya hissed.
Harper tried to ease the moment, bumping her shoulder playfully. “Okay, but if it helps, he didn’t look mad.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.