Filed to story: Maya Thompson and Damien Blackwood Book PDF Free
Trina stood, walking to the edge of her desk and resting one palm on it. Her tone turned clinical, but her gaze was cutting. “Word of advice? Office romance is not tolerated. So if I were you, I’d tell your boyfriend to keep the flowers private next time.”
Maya’s head snapped up. “What? I-I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Trina raised a brow, unimpressed.
“I swear,” Maya added. “I’ve only been here four days. Two in this department. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this.”
Something in her voice cracked slightly at the end, and she hated that it did. But it was true. She had worked too hard, sacrificed too much to land this internship. If a bouquet could ruin everything-
Trina narrowed her eyes for a beat, then stood, signaling the conversation was over.
“Good,” she said briskly.
Trina stared at her for a long moment, assessing.
“Then make sure that’s what people see,” she said at last. “Because perception here is just as dangerous as intention. You’re new. You’re being watched. Don’t give them something to talk about.”
Maya swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Trina tapped the desk lightly. “You can go.”
Maya stood quickly, notebook still clutched in her arms like a shield. “Thank you.”
Maya’s ears burned as she nodded and slipped out of the office.
She didn’t understand what was happening. Or who had sent the flowers. Maybe it was a mistake. A mix-up. Or worse – someone playing a cruel joke.
But she didn’t have time to think about it. She had work to finish. And Jamie’s appointment tomorrow. And rent due next week. And tuition bills she still didn’t know how she’d pay.
This internship was her chance. Her way out.
She wouldn’t lose it. Not over something as stupid as a bouquet of lilies.
***
Back on the executive floor, Damien sat behind his massive desk, the city skyline behind him washed in cold morning light.
His fingers hovered over his laptop keyboard, not moving.
The image was burned into his mind.
White lilies.
Blue hyacinths.
That card.
Something inside him had… tightened. Not in anger. Not even jealousy, not exactly.
It was irritation. Disruption.
It made his skin crawl in a way he couldn’t explain.
He didn’t like surprises. He didn’t like feeling off-balance. And whatever that had been-whoever had sent that-it had touched something raw in him.
Something that had nothing to do with policy.
He pushed his chair back abruptly and stood, pacing once behind his desk.
This was why he didn’t tolerate mess. Distractions. Emotional clutter. It was beneath him. Beneath his empire.
And yet…
His gaze drifted toward his laptop again.
James would handle it. Of course he would.
Still, Damien sat back down and opened the internal dashboard.
He told himself it was for monitoring.
Performance. Efficiency.
Just to see if productivity in the PR department was where it needed to be.
Just business.
Just business, he told himself again. But even he didn’t believe it this time.
The hum of lunchtime chatter drifted through the PR department, but Maya Thompson didn’t hear any of it. She was seated at her desk, motionless, eyes unfocused, hands clasped too tightly in her lap.
“Hey,” Harper’s gentle voice pulled her back. “Lunch? I found a spot nearby with killer dumplings.”
Maya forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks… but I think I’ll just stay in.”
“You sure?” Harper asked, brows furrowed.
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just need a breather.”
Harper nodded, lingering for a second before stepping away.
As soon as Maya was alone, she stood and quietly made her way to the staircase at the far end of the hallway-her escape route.
Ten flights up. Two heavy doors.
And then-
Silence.
The rooftop was her sanctuary. She’d discovered it on her first day during orientation. A hidden terrace above the chaos, shielded by thick glass panels and greenery. No one came here.
Maya leaned against the metal railing, blinking at the skyline. But it was blurry. Her eyes burned, and she finally let herself fall apart.
She tried to hold it in. She did.
But everything was catching up with her. The sleepless nights, Jamie’s prescriptions piling up, the clinic visit tomorrow she wasn’t sure she could afford. The tip jar at the coffee shop was practically empty last weekend, and now she’d missed an entire week’s worth of pay to commit to this internship-this dream, this risk.
And now this.
Whoever had sent those damn flowers-whether it was a cruel joke or some ridiculous misunderstanding-had put a target on her back. Trina’s words echoed: Office romance is not tolerated. Perception is dangerous.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong. But in a place like this, perception could be fatal.
“I can’t lose this,” she whispered. “Please don’t let me lose this.”
The tears came harder.
She sank to the cold floor, curling in on herself like something brittle about to break. And finally-alone-the sobs tore free.
She wiped her eyes. Smoothed her hair. Composed herself the best she could.
Then she stood.
And went back downstairs.
Meanwhile – Executive Wing
The sleek corridors of the executive wing were a world apart from the noise and energy of the lower floors. Silence reigned here-sharp, polished, intentional.
James Horton moved with quiet efficiency, a slim folder tucked under one arm as his polished shoes echoed against marble. The investigation was complete. As always, swift and precise.
He didn’t need long.
