Chapter 3 Marlowe

• Damon’s POV
• The new day had arrived in all its usual chaos. The sun barely peeked through the sleek curtains of my office, but the glow from my desk lamp illuminated the mountain of papers stacked high, all demanding my attention.
• The buzz of the city outside barely reached me as I buried myself in yet another report. Blackwood Enterprises had no shortage of issues, and as the CEO, it was my responsibility to tackle each one. It didn’t help that there was a new project brewing, one that could shift the company’s standing in the industry. But, for now, I was tethered to this desk—buried in numbers and proposals.
• I glanced at the clock. It was almost midday. Harper, my personal assistant, had yet to disturb me with any of his usual check-ins or ridiculous suggestions. His presence was a bit of a lifeline during these long, grueling days, though he did have a knack for interrupting my work when I was deep in the trenches.
• Just as I was starting to think about taking a break, he knocked and entered without waiting for permission, as always.
• “You look like you’ve seen better days,” Harper remarked, a small grin playing on his lips. He was dressed in his usual attire—a sharp suit and a friendly, approachable demeanor.
• “Just another day in paradise,” I muttered, running a hand through my messy hair. “What is it now, Harper?”
• He leaned against the doorframe, tapping his fingers against the edge of the door as if thinking. “You need to unwind, Damon,” he said, eyes fixed on me with an almost fatherly concern. “This isn't good for you. Long hours, too much stress. It’s wearing you down.”
• “I’m fine,” I snapped, though I didn’t really believe my own words. The pressure never really stopped. “I have work to do.”
• He shook his head, his lips twisting into a knowing smirk. “How about we go out tonight? A drink or two. You need to ease your mind before it completely breaks down. I’m serious.”
• “I’m not in the mood to socialize, Harper,” I replied, my tone hardening. “I have enough on my plate as it is.”
• Harper wasn’t one to back down so easily. He walked further into the office and perched himself on the edge of the desk. “I get it, you don’t like to let go. But seriously, Damon, you’ve been working yourself to the bone. What’s one night? You need a little escape.”
• I leaned back in my chair, sighing in frustration. “I don’t need to drink to fix my problems. The company’s kitchen is stocked, I’ll be fine with some food and a few quiet hours.”
• Harper raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Not the same thing. You can eat here, sure, but you need something different. Let me treat you. You deserve something special.”
• I wasn’t entirely sure how much he cared about my well-being, but Harper had a way of making his suggestions sound like commands without sounding too bossy. And, against my better judgment, I found myself considering it.
• “Where are you thinking?” I asked, finally giving in, though I wasn’t entirely convinced this would make any difference. I’d had a long-standing habit of pushing everything down instead of dealing with it properly.
• His face lit up as if he’d won a small victory. “I’ll grab you something from Marlowe’s as lunch or breakfast?,” Harper suggested enthusiastically, his eyes practically sparkling. “Trust me, their steak will make you forget about everything for a little while. You’ll love it.”
• Marlowe’s. The upscale restaurant with an excellent reputation. I had to admit, I had heard good things about it, but I wasn’t in the mood for anything too extravagant.
• “You sure the company kitchen can’t handle this?” I teased, though I could already feel the weight of the decision lifting a bit. Maybe I could use a change of pace. A break was long overdue.
• “Company kitchen, please,” Harper scoffed lightly. “You’ve been eating there for days. A proper treat will do wonders. Let me get the order ready. No objections.” He added that last part with a playful grin, as if he knew I’d try to argue.
• I chuckled, shaking my head, but I couldn’t deny that I was looking forward to it. “Fine. But don’t expect me to thank you for this.”
• “Right,” he said, already turning toward the door with that same smile. “I’ll get the order in. You deserve it, trust me.”
• “Alright, Harper. I’ll hold you to that.”
• He waved over his shoulder as he left the room, already getting to work on the plan for the evening, while I found myself oddly looking forward to the idea of a meal from Marlowe’s—maybe even a moment of peace. It was hard to say no to Harper once he had made up his mind.
• I wasn’t sure if the night out would actually help me clear my head, but for now, it was one less thing I had to deal with, and that was something. Maybe it would do the trick.
• Emma’s POV
• It was a long, tiring day at Marlowe’s, and I had barely gotten my apron off when the call came in. My boss, Mr. Levin, looked up from the counter with a raised brow.
• "Emma, can you take this one?" he asked, his voice casual but firm, as always.
• I glanced over at the receipt, the name on it instantly making me blink. The Blackwood Residence. It was an address I’d seen a hundred times, in the gossip magazines, in the news. Damon Blackwood, the CEO and owner of half the city, always surrounded by mystery and rumors. And now, apparently, he wanted dinner delivered.
• "Of course," I replied, already tying my hair back into a ponytail, the loose strands brushing against my cheek. A few wisps fell out of place, but I didn’t have time to fix it. My pink apron, always a signature part of my uniform, seemed to add just the right pop of color against my otherwise simple attire. I quickly strapped on the bag for deliveries and grabbed the warm food containers.
• As I stepped outside into the morning air, I could feel the faint breeze ruffle my ponytail, but I hardly had time to notice. The order was already late, and I was more than ready to get this delivery done and head back to work.
• I hopped on my bike, feeling the familiar comfort of the worn leather seat beneath me. My mind wandered for a split second—Was he really the one behind this order? The idea of delivering food to someone as powerful and well-known as Damon Blackwood was, well, strange.
• But there was no time to second-guess it. I revved up the engine and took off, the sound of the bike humming in my ears as I navigated the busy streets.
• This was just another delivery, right?
• As I rode towards the Blackwood residence, I could feel the weight of the address in my hands, like a secret I wasn’t meant to know.
• The ride was smooth, and soon enough, I found myself pulling up in front of the towering Blackwood building. My heart raced a little—Could this really be happening?
• I parked my bike outside and walked up to the front doors, entering through the sleek, automatic glass entrance. The reception area was pristine, all dark wood and polished surfaces. It was like stepping into another world—one of luxury and power. The receptionist, a woman with perfectly styled hair and a no-nonsense look, glanced up as I approached.
• “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice cool and polite.
• “I’m here for Mr. Blackwood’s order,” I said, trying to keep my tone professional. “I’m Emma from Marlowe’s. The food’s ready for him.”
• She looked at the order form, her eyes flicking from it to me. I suddenly felt very aware of my simple pink apron and casual outfit. But after a brief moment, she gave me a nod and gestured toward a sleek, modern hallway.
• “He’s expecting you. His office is on the top floor. Take the elevator to the 23rd floor. His assistant will guide you from there.”
• “Thank you,” I said, taking the direction and making my way to the elevators.
• I hit the button for the 23rd floor and waited, my nerves growing with each passing second. The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and I stepped in, clutching the food bag tightly. As the elevator ascended, I couldn’t help but think about how real this felt. I was on my way to meet Damon Blackwood. The Damon Blackwood.
• The elevator reached my floor with a soft ding, and I stepped out into a corridor lined with high-end decor—plush carpets, sleek walls adorned with contemporary art, and a faint, pleasant scent of lavender in the air. I walked past several closed doors before reaching the last one, which was slightly ajar. There, standing just inside, was a tall man in a well-fitted suit. He had short, dark hair and an easy smile.
• “Emma?” he asked, his voice smooth. “You must be the one with Mr. Blackwood’s dinner.”
• I nodded, handing him the bag with a polite smile. “Yes, that’s right.”
• He gestured to the door behind him. “Mr. Blackwood is expecting you. Just go on in.”
• Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, pushed the door open, and walked inside. The office was nothing short of magnificent. A massive desk dominated the space, its dark wood gleaming under the soft lighting. Large windows behind the desk revealed a stunning view of the city below. But it was the man sitting behind the desk that immediately grabbed my attention. Damon Blackwood.
• He looked up from his work, his golden eyes locking onto mine, as though he had been waiting for me all along. His expression was unreadable at first, but as I stepped closer, I noticed a flicker of something in his gaze—something that was hard to place, yet unmistakable.
• "Good evening," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I have your order."
• Damon didn’t immediately respond, his eyes still fixed on me as if studying me. I set the bag down on his desk, careful to maintain a professional distance.
• “Thank you,” he finally said, his voice low and velvety, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he met my gaze again. “I appreciate you delivering it personally.”
• I nodded, standing up straighter, suddenly feeling all too aware of how close we were.
• “You’re welcome," I said quickly, shifting my weight slightly. "Well, I’ll let you enjoy your meal.”
• Just as I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye. His gaze never left me, an intensity that I hadn’t expected radiating from him. I took a step back, feeling the weight of his stare like a tangible thing.
• Harper, his assistant, stood just outside the door, watching the entire exchange with a bemused expression. I offered a brief smile to him before quickly turning away, not wanting to linger longer than necessary. The elevator ride back down felt faster, but the uneasy feeling in my stomach remained.
• Did I imagine that? Or was I just another face to him?
• Still, the thought of Damon Blackwood staring after me lingered in my mind for the rest of the day.