The File That Started It All
Clara set the brown folder on Ethan Blackwood's desk like it was a live bomb.
"There you go. File delivered. Mission accomplished. I'll just… see myself out."
"Wait."
The single word froze her mid-step — calm, precise, but sharp enough to cut glass.
She turned slowly. "Yes, Your Highness?"
One of his brows twitched, but he didn't comment. He opened the folder instead, eyes scanning the pages. His expression darkened.
"Where did you get this?"
Clara blinked. "Uh… my friend Mia gave it to me. Said it needed to be delivered to your office."
"Mia who?"
"Mia Coleman. She works in—uh—your company's legal department, I think?"
He closed the file with deliberate care and leaned back in his chair. "Interesting."
A chill tiptoed down Clara's spine. "Interesting good, or interesting I'm calling security?"
He ignored her quip. "You didn't open this file, did you?"
"No!" she said quickly, indignant. "I may be broke, but I'm not nosy."
Ethan finally looked up — and the weight of his gaze made her forget how to breathe.
"Everyone's nosy, Miss Evans. They just hide it better."
Her mouth went dry. "Okay, that's mildly terrifying."
He stood, tall and deliberate, walking toward the window. "Tell Miss Coleman I'll handle this personally."
"Sure thing, boss man," she muttered, inching toward the door.
"Clara."
She froze. He'd said her name — smooth, low, and far too dangerous.
"Yes?"
He turned slightly, profile cold and perfect. "Don't make a habit of delivering things you don't understand. It could get you hurt."
Her stomach flipped. "Wow. You really know how to end a conversation on a cheerful note."
He didn't smile. "Goodbye, Miss Evans."
She slipped out before he could change his mind.
"And people say coffee's bad for your heart," she muttered. "Try a CEO."
---
Outside, she slumped against the elevator wall, clutching her chest.
"Okay, Clara, breathe. You just survived a conversation with a human iceberg. Gold star."
Her phone buzzed. A text from Mia:
MIA: Please tell me you didn't open the file.
CLARA: I didn't! But your boss looks like he eats interns for breakfast. What's in it, anyway?
MIA: Just… sensitive info. You did great. I'll explain later. Promise.
Clara frowned at the screen. "Yeah, sure. Because that's not suspicious at all."
She didn't realize until much later that she'd just delivered more than a file — she'd delivered herself straight into a storm.