The city lights shimmered like scattered diamonds across the skyline that Friday night. Inside the penthouse dining room of Blackwood Holdings, the air felt thicker than usual—heavy with the scent of wine, polished silver, and something Lena couldn't name.
She hadn't planned to be here. Yet, an hour ago, a message had flashed across her screen:
> A.Blackwood: Dinner. 8 p.m. Formal.
No explanation. No context. Just the kind of command that made her heart skip.
Now she stood before a mirror in the restroom, smoothing the dark blue dress she'd borrowed from Maya. It wasn't expensive, but it fit perfectly—simple, elegant, and modest. She'd even tamed her hair and added a touch of lipstick, the first in months.
Her reflection still looked uncertain. Why me? she wondered.
---
The elevator doors opened to a private floor she'd never seen before. A butler greeted her politely and led her through a hallway lined with art that probably cost more than her apartment. The room beyond glowed with golden light, and at its center sat Adrian Blackwood—perfectly composed, glass of red wine in hand.
He rose when he saw her. "Miss Hart."
"Mr. Blackwood," she greeted, keeping her voice calm.
"You came."
"You didn't really give me a choice."
His lips curved faintly. "You always have a choice, Lena. You just haven't learned which ones matter yet."
Her pulse quickened at the sound of her name on his lips. "Why did you ask me here?"
He gestured toward the table. "Sit. You'll see."
---
Dinner was quiet at first. Too quiet. The soft hum of music filled the silence as they ate, her nerves tightening with every passing second.
Finally, she couldn't hold it in any longer. "You could have discussed work during office hours," she said.
Adrian set down his glass. "This isn't about work."
"Then what is it about?"
He studied her for a long moment, as if deciding how much truth to reveal. "Do you know what people in my world value most?"
She hesitated. "Money?"
"Control," he said softly. "Money buys comfort. Control buys peace."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"You're the first person I've met in a long time who doesn't try to control me—or fear me."
Lena blinked. "I'm not sure that's true."
"It is," he said, his tone gentle but sure. "You speak honestly. You look at me like I'm a man, not a title. That's… rare."
Her chest tightened. She didn't know how to respond. "Maybe because I have nothing to gain from pretending."
He smiled faintly. "That's exactly what makes you dangerous."
"Dangerous?" she repeated, half-laughing. "I'm not dangerous, Mr. Blackwood."
"Not yet," he murmured.
---
The conversation drifted after that—to lighter topics, surprisingly. She learned he preferred tea over coffee, that he once wanted to study architecture before inheriting his father's empire. Every now and then, a shadow crossed his expression, but he brushed it away with humor that felt rare and unpolished.
For the first time, she saw the man behind the reputation.
Not the ruthless billionaire, but someone human. Someone who carried weight he didn't speak of.
When dessert arrived, he poured her a glass of wine. "To new beginnings," he said.
She hesitated before clinking her glass. "You make it sound like I've started a new life."
"Maybe you have."
---
They talked until the city outside turned silver with rain. When she finally stood to leave, Adrian walked her to the elevator himself.
"Thank you for dinner," she said, adjusting her shawl.
He nodded. "You handled yourself well tonight."
"It was just dinner."
"Nothing is just anything in my world," he said quietly.
As the elevator doors opened, he added, "You should be careful, Lena. There are people watching—people who will use you to get to me."
She frowned. "Why would anyone—"
"Because they think you matter to me," he said, his gaze steady.
The words made her heart stumble. "Do I?"
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he smiled, faintly but not kindly. "Goodnight, Miss Hart."
The doors closed between them before she could breathe again.
---
Back in her apartment, Lena stood by the window long after midnight, watching the rain streak down the glass. His words replayed in her mind—they think you matter to me.
Why had he said it like that?
Why had he looked at her as if the thought itself was dangerous?
Her phone buzzed. A message.
> Unknown Number: You shouldn't trust Adrian Blackwood. He's not who he seems.
Lena's stomach dropped. "Who is this?" she typed back.
No response.
She stared at the glowing screen, the city lights flickering below like warning signals. Somewhere, she felt the first real shiver of fear.
---
Across town, Adrian stood alone on his balcony, the rain soaking his white shirt as he watched the skyline in silence.
He turned his phone over in his hand. The anonymous message he'd intercepted matched the one now sitting on Lena's screen.
"Still watching me, are you?" he murmured into the night. "You'll regret that."
Then he deleted the message, poured himself another drink, and whispered to the storm,
"She was never supposed to matter."
But even he didn't believe that anymore.