Tangled Heart

Ivy Sinclair didn't believe in fate

She believed in survival, the kind carved from sleepless nights, secondhand ambition, and strong black coffee that burned like fuel in her veins. She believed in plans, control, and never letting men like Adrian Blackwood get under her skin.

Yet here she was, nerves crackling like static as the elevator climbed to the top floor of Blackwood Empire.

When the doors opened, the air changed. Sleek marble. Glass walls. Power humming in the silence. Every inch of the office screamed untouchable. Cold. Male.

Ivy stepped out like she owned it, spine straight, heels sharp against the polished floors. She was dressed in navy armor, a blazer fitted to perfection and a pencil skirt that said she meant business. But all of that felt paper-thin the moment her eyes met his.

Adrian Blackwood.

He was behind his desk, a cathedral of glass and steel that overlooked Manhattan's glittering skyline. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, forearms flexing as he flipped through documents. Tousled black hair. Jaw sharp as a blade. And those steel-gray eyes, unforgiving and unreadable.

"You're late," he said, voice as cold and clipped as the Manhattan winter outside, without looking up.

"I'm three minutes early," Ivy replied, voice steady despite the storm he stirred inside her.

He finally looked up. Slowly. "Time is relative when you're on my payroll, Ms. Sinclair."

"And arrogance is constant, I see."

His eyes narrowed, but a flicker of something, surprise, maybe amusement, flashed across his face. "You've got fire. I hope that translates into results."

"It always does."

He stood, tall and coiled with control, like a predator assessing prey. Ivy didn't flinch. Not even when he circled her, studying her as if she were an equation he hadn't solved yet.

"This won't be easy," he murmured.

"Good," she shot back. "I don't do easy."

He smiled, and damn if it didn't look like a warning.

Their first official meeting set the tone: war.

"You want tulips?" Adrian scoffed, scanning her proposal for the Solace Grand Opening.

"They represent new beginnings," Ivy said. "Spring. Elegance. Symbolism matters."

Adrian shook his head. "I don't want classic. "I want impact. Unique, Not a garden party." Something that says Blackwood Empire is untouchable."

"Then trust your event planner to make bold look beautiful."

He leaned in, lips close enough to stir her breath. "Surprise me, Ms. Sinclair. Or you won't last here."

A grin tugged at the corner of Ivy's mouth, but she held her ground. "Challenge accepted."

The following weeks were chaos. Meetings bled into late nights. Arguments sparked over font choices, floral palettes, and seating charts. Every decision was a battle. And Adrian? He was relentless.

"This colour scheme is too safe," Adrian declared one afternoon, eyes scanning her mood board.

"It's understated elegance," Ivy said."

"I want danger, not beige."

"You want taste, not tacky."

Every time he pushed, Ivy pushed harder. And somewhere between the tension and the tug-of-war, something shifted.

One night, Ivy stayed late arranging sample pieces in the event hall. White orchids. Gold runners. Crystals catching the soft overhead lights.

A shadow loomed beside her.

"You're working late," Adrian said.

She didn't look up. "You said deadlines weren't suggestions."

He crouched beside the table, close enough to touch. "You're too good at this."

"I take that as a compliment."

"Don't. It means I'll expect more."

Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, the office, the company, the job, all of it blurred.

Ivy swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"I didn't come here to play games," she whispered.

"Neither did I," he said softly, voice barely above the hum of the city outside.

But the were already playing something far more dangerous.

The tension between them was undeniable. It sparked in every glance, every clipped sentence, every accidental brush of a hand.

One morning, Adrian caught Ivy's hand as she reached for a folder.

"Ivy," he said quietly, "don't take this personally."

"I don't," she said, though her heart betrayed her.

He hesitated, then added, "I don't let anyone close. It's safer that way."

"Everyone needs someone," she replied, surprised by her own words.

Adrian's mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile. "Maybe."

But behind his guarded exterior, Ivy saw cracks. Moments when his mask slipped, a flicker of vulnerability that made her question everything she thought she knew about him.

Despite their battles, Ivy couldn't deny the pull she felt. The way her breath caught when he leaned in too close. The way his eyes softened, just for a moment, when she laughed at a joke only he could make.

And maybe, just maybe, fate had a plan after all..

Days turned into weeks, and every interaction with Adrian felt like walking on a tightrope strung over a canyon. Ivy learned to expect the unexpected: a compliment buried in sarcasm, a sharp look softened by concern. She wasn't sure if Adrian was trying to break her or protect himself from being broken.

One crisp Tuesday morning, Ivy arrived at the Blackwood Empire headquarters carrying a binder thick with vendor contracts and design proposals. The elevator was almost empty, and the soft hum of the machinery was calming. She liked the rare quiet moments before the storm of the day began.

When the doors opened, Adrian was waiting, leaning casually against the marble wall, eyes fixed on his phone. His sharp jawline was outlined by the sunlight streaming in.

"You're early," he said, without looking up.

"That's the point," Ivy said, stepping past him confidently. "Punctuality is a virtue."

He smiled a brief flash that made her heart flutter. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Virtue won't get this launch done on time."

Ivy lifted her binder. "I have everything you asked for."

Adrian took the binder, flipping through pages with a speed that made her wonder if he was skimming or actually reading. "Vendor costs are high," he said. "We need better deals."

Ivy fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I negotiated with every supplier in the city. These are the best prices you're going to get without sacrificing quality."

"Then find me a supplier who offers luxury at a discount."

She locked eyes with him, daring him to be impossible. "I'm trying, but you're not making it easy."

Adrian's lips twitched upward in a rare smirk. "That's the point."

They stood there, tension crackling between them like static electricity. For a moment, the office felt smaller, as if it were just the two of them, trapped in this bubble of mutual challenge and reluctant respect.

"Tell me," Adrian said, leaning closer, "why are you here? Planning events can't be your entire life."

Ivy's cheeks flushed. She was tempted to brush off the question with a joke, but something in his eyes told her he meant it.

"I'm here because I need to prove something," she said quietly. "Not just to you, but to myself."

"And what's that?"

"That I'm more than the mistakes my family made

Adrian's expression flickered, shadowed by something unreadable. He looked away, voice low. "We all have skeletons, Ivy. The question is what we do with them."

Ivy wanted to ask him what skeletons he was running from, but she held back. Some things were better left unsaid. For now.

The next days were a whirlwind. Ivy found herself working late into the night, poring over floral arrangements, seating plans, and lighting options. Adrian's constant presence was like a storm cloud, unpredictable, powerful, impossible to ignore.

One evening, as Ivy arranged white orchids along a sleek marble table, Adrian appeared behind her.

"This looks... better," he admitted, a rare note of approval in his voice.

She smiled. "I knew you'd come around."

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. "Don't get used to it."

Their eyes met, and something shifted. For a heartbeat, the walls between them cracked.

Then Adrian stepped back, clearing his throat. "I need to make a call."

Ivy watched him leave, heart pounding in a way she didn't understand.

Later that week, Ivy's phone buzzed with a text from Adrian.

Meet me at the rooftop lounge. Now.

Curious and cautious, Ivy found her way to the sleek rooftop bar, where the city stretched out in a glittering sea of lights below. The air was cool, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the occasional siren.

Adrian stood near the edge, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the horizon.

"You called," Ivy said, stepping beside him.

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he said quietly, "I'm sorry if I've made this harder than it needs to be."

Ivy frowned. "Why would you say that now?"

He looked at her then, really looked. "Because I'm not just your boss. I'm the guy who's been testing you every step of the way. And I don't want to lose what's building here."

Ivy's breath caught. "What's building?"

"A connection. Something real."

She swallowed. "After everything, after how we started, it's hard to believe that."

Adrian's voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't expect you to believe it. I just want you to know it's there."

They stood side by side, city lights reflecting in their eyes. The world felt vast, yet strangely intimate.

For the first time, Ivy allowed herself to wonder what if this wasn't just a battle? What if it was the beginning of something neither of them saw coming?