RUTHLESS VOWS

– A Job wi

er had one

nhattan like a throne carved from glass and steel. It was

n Bla

ng, the reason their family had crumbled. And now, after years of careful planning, she was stepping r

sterile, and filled with the scent of polished wood, fresh coffee, and expensive cologne. It was a

k leather bag, keeping her grip fi

. No, she refuse

ough a person's veins before a high-stakes

intended

-

an with

burn hair cascaded in loose waves past her shoulders, framing a face that was both delicate and fierce. High cheekbones, full lips, and a sh

warmth and innocence. Now, they hel

, until Adrian Blackwood had ruined her father. She had watched her family fall fro

teenager, that one day

ay was

-

ing's

nt, but her heart wasn't. It pounded with each floo

she stepped into a wor

ross the back wall, offering a breathtaking view of the New York skyline. Shelves lined with e

pared to the man sta

n Bla

uldered with a powerful, lean frame built like a man who knew how to dominate a room. His dark hair was

yes that captiva

s that saw everything-that could strip a person down to

barest hint of stubble. His lips were firm, rarel

f a leather chair, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a sliver of tanned

d there, gazing out at his kingdom

hing for half a second before she

he t

eyes

gerous moment, the w

sharp, dark,

d, as if tasting her name o

. "I believe in making a

ow arched.

his time, as if dissect

vering. She refused to

e black leather chair acr

ess as she crossed her legs. Her heels clicked against the floo

ir, fingers steepled together

There was

lightly. "I don't hire assistant

slightly. "Then what

eyes. "Loyalty. Discretio

ep

n't a normal interview. He was testi

er this job requires

t for a second. A brief, un

see abo

he picked up his phone

o'clock. I have a new

d washed over

an intervi

initi

-

est B

ing against the desk. "Tell me, Miss

ze. "I thrive u

te jet to Chicago, organize a dinner reservation at Monroe's for six, and

lse ki

didn't h

rises' internal scheduling system. Her fingers flew across the screen as sh

ng the private jet service, s

be ready for departure at four-thirty this afternoon

t ask-she

her end stammered a qu

do

nroe's-a Michelin-starred restaurant not

Adrian Blackwood. I need a private dining r

, ma'am, b

t let the ma

is isn't a request. It's an expectation. I'd hate

"Of course, Miss Carter.

o

analyzed his schedule, shifting each appointment with

e tablet down, only se

watching her t

slow, calculating

eres

quietly, mask

only the

just won the