The elevator to the top floor of Blackwood Tower was silent, but Ava's thoughts weren't.
Each passing floor brought her closer to him—Damien Blackwood, the man who unraveled her past, the man who seemed determined to unravel her again.
The walls were mirrored, reflecting her face from every angle. Calm. Composed. But she could feel the tension in her shoulders, in her breath.
What was she doing?
This wasn't just business.
It hadn't been since the moment he looked at her like he remembered everything.
The elevator doors opened into a private lobby—quiet, minimalist, expensive. A young man with neatly parted hair and a tablet in hand greeted her.
"Miss Sinclair. Mr. Blackwood is expecting you. Please—this way."
He led her through a corridor of dark glass and polished steel. Every step echoed. This wasn't just an office. It was a fortress.
At the end of the hall, a door opened into a vast room—floor-to-ceiling windows, a view that swallowed half the skyline.
And in the center of it all, Damien sat at a long obsidian desk, hands steepled, waiting.
He stood when she entered, his expression unreadable.
"Ava."
She hated how her name sounded in his mouth—soft, careful, like he was tasting it.
"Blackwood," she replied, choosing distance.
He gestured toward a chair. She didn't sit.
"You asked me to come," she said. "I'm here. Say what you need to say."
Damien didn't flinch. "You're building something, Ava. Something good. And I'm offering to help you protect it."
Her eyes narrowed. "Protect it from who?"
"From yourself."
That stung.
"Excuse me?"
"You're leading with anger," he said. "Anger doesn't build legacies. It burns them down."
Ava stepped forward, the heat rising in her chest. "Don't stand there and pretend you care about my legacy. You killed my father."
He looked at her, steady. "And I've lived with that decision every day since."
She froze.
He moved from behind the desk, slow, deliberate. He stopped a few feet from her, close enough to speak softer.
"I made a call I thought was business. But I knew your father. And when I saw what it did to you… I knew it was personal."
Ava didn't speak.
Because suddenly the room felt too full. Of silence. Of memory.
Of him.
"I've been watching you," Damien said, his voice lower now. "Not in the way you think. Professionally. Your growth at Easton. The way you took scraps and turned them into power."
She said nothing.
"I didn't expect you to become a threat," he added. "But I respect it."
Ava finally moved. She sat—slowly. "And what is this now? A truce?"
"Call it… a negotiation."
"I'm not yours to negotiate."
"No," he agreed. "But you're worth more than being anyone's grudge."
The words landed harder than she expected.
Because for all her sharpness, for all her fight—part of her had stayed in the shadow of loss. In her father's shadow.
Damien's eyes searched hers.
"You don't have to forgive me," he said. "But if you're going to burn down everything we've built, do it for something real. Not for ghosts."
She stood, the moment too close now.
"I didn't come here to be handled," she said.
Damien's voice dropped. "I'm not trying to handle you. I'm trying to understand the version of you I never got to know."
Their eyes locked.
She hated how the air changed when he looked at her like that.
Like he saw the layers she kept buried.
Like he still wanted something he had no right to want.
She stepped past him toward the door, but he caught her hand—not forceful. Just enough.
She froze.
The contact was brief.
But it burned.
"I don't regret building my empire," Damien said quietly. "But I regret the way I built it over you."
Her heart twisted.
And she hated him for saying that.
Hated him more for meaning it.
She pulled away without a word and left the room.
Outside, the wind hit her sharply.
Ava paused on the sidewalk, breathing in the noise of the city. Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket.
Julian: "Dinner at your place? I miss my kitchen privileges."
A smile tugged at her lips, uninvited.
Julian.
The warm side of her world.
The one who showed up when no one else did.
But in the back of her mind, Damien's voice still echoed.
"I regret the way I built it over you."
It wasn't love. Not yet.
But something was growing between them.
And it was nothing like the safety Julian offered.
It was something wild.
Something dangerous.
And maybe something real.