BLACKTHORN'S GAME

You would think a city that glittered this much would be warmer. But standing under the towering glass building of Blackthorn Corporation, I could feel the cold slicing through my jacket like invisible knives.

It wasn't just the late spring chill, It was him.

The billionaire behind the mirrored doors - the man no one could talk about without lowering their voice or raising their brows, Damian Blackthorn.

I hugged the folder tighter against my chest. This was my shot. The internship that could pull me out of student loan hell and maybe, just maybe, rewrite the rest of my future. I was twenty-three, broke, running out of options, and moments away from standing in front of the man who was said to crush ambition with a glance.

The lobby inside Blackthorn Corp shimmered like a crystal palace - marble floors, gold-accented walls, and modern lighting that made even the air feel expensive. People walked with purpose, shoulders squared, heads high, like they belonged here. I didn't, Not yet.

"Miss Isla Hart?"

I turned quickly. A woman in a black blazer and red lipstick gave me a nod. She didn't smile.

"Mr. Blackthorn will see you now."

My heart stuttered. I swallowed hard and followed her into the elevator, which rose in silence. She didn't say a word, and I wasn't brave enough to try.

When the doors slid open, I expected another busy floor. Instead, it was quiet, carpeted, rich and suffocating, like entering a church you didn't belong to.

She led me down a long hallway and stopped at a large black door.

"You can go in."

I blinked. "Alone?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you need help walking?"

Nope. Definitely didn't. I squared my shoulders, gave her a tight smile, and pushed the door open.

Damian Blackthorn sat behind a massive desk with dark oak finish, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression unreadable. Everything about him screamed control, precision and power.

He looked up, and for the briefest second, our eyes locked. His eyes were gray, cold, and calculating. I swore the temperature dropped five degrees.

"Miss Hart."

He didn't stand, didn't offer a handshake, just said my name like it was already a problem.

"You're late."

I checked the watch on my wrist, 9:00 a.m sharp. "I believe I was on time."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, not a smile, not even irritation, just calculation.

"Sit."

I obeyed, sliding into the chair across from him. My legs felt like rubber, but I kept my chin up. If I was going to burn here, I'd at least do it with a little pride.

"You want an internship at Blackthorn Corporation."

"Yes, sir."

He studied me. Not in the way a man studies a woman, but the way a scientist studies something under a microscope.

"Why?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Why here? Why me? Why this building or this company?"

I opened my folder and handed him my resume, trying to stay calm. "Because I believe I have the skills, work ethic, and adaptability to grow in a place that demands the best."

"Everyone believes that. Most are wrong."

He didn't look at my resume, just tossed it aside like it didn't matter. Maybe to him, it didn't.

"Tell me, Miss Hart," he said, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled again. "What happens when someone tells you no?"

I blinked. "I look for another way."

He tilted his head. "What if every door stays closed?"

"Then I build my own."

Silence.

His lips twitched. A flicker of something, approval? amusement?

"Good answer."

My shoulders sagged just slightly. Relief flooded through me. Then he stood.

"Follow me."

I scrambled to my feet and followed him through a side door that led into a smaller office - minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the skyline. He walked to a locked drawer, pulled out a slim folder, and handed it to me.

"Your first task."

I took it, careful not to let our fingers touch. Inside was a document filled with handwritten notes, contracts, revisions, and scribbled comments.

"Revise it. Prepare a digital presentation. I want it on my desk by nine tomorrow. No errors. No excuses."

I nodded. "Yes, Mr. Blackthorn."

He turned away, already done with me.

"Dismissed."

I walked out clutching that folder like it held the keys to my future. Maybe it did.

The elevator ride down felt shorter, or maybe I was just too busy trying to process everything. The man was intense, sharp and scary, but something about him wasn't just intimidating-it was... captivating.

As the lobby doors opened and I stepped out into the street, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

"Let's see if you're worth the risk. - D.B."

I stared at the screen.

My heart thudded.

And just like that, I knew, I wasn't walking into an internship. I was walking into a storm.