The meeting dragged through two unforgiving hours, but Bianca felt detached, like a spectator watching an unfamiliar woman argue her case. She was sharp, citing precedents, making points even her new boss, Ms. Parker, nodded approvingly. Yet beneath it all, Bianca was screaming.
She was hyper-aware of him. Eddie Blackwell. He didn't look at her directly, keeping his focus on Ms. Parker. His questions were precise, intelligent, and cold. But she could feel the energy coming off him, the same controlled, magnetic pull from the bar, now twisted into something professional and dangerous.
Engaged.
The word echoed in her head with every beat of her heart. He was engaged, and just hours ago, his hands had been in her hair and his lips had been on hers.
She felt sick. She felt stupid. She felt like the punchline to a very cruel joke.
"Excellent work, Ms. Carter. That's a strong start."
Ms. Parker's voice snapped Bianca back to reality. The meeting was over. The Blackwell team was standing, gathering their expensive leather briefcases.
Bianca nodded, her face frozen in a polite smile. "Thank you, Ms. Parker."
Her only goal was to get out. To run to her new, empty office, lock the door, and splash cold water on her face. Or be sick. Maybe both.
She began sliding her laptop into her bag, her movements quick and jerky. The room was clearing out. Ms. Parker was walking the other Blackwell executives to the door, laughing at some shared joke.
Almost there.
Then, his voice, low and unyielding, broke through her storm. "Ms. Carter, a moment."
His voice. Low, the British accent, and cool. It stopped her cold.
She turned slowly. The conference room was empty now, safe for them. The heavy doors clicked shut, leaving them in a deafening, polished silence.
Eddie Blackwell stood by the window, his back to the city, his hands in the pockets of his perfect charcoal suit. He wasn't the warm, rogue stranger from the bar. This was the billionaire heir, the man in charge.
"Mr. Blackwell," she said, her voice ringing with business terms. "I thought the meeting went very well. If you have further notes on the acquisition, you can send them."
"Let's not play games, Bianca."
His use of her first name felt like a slap. It was too intimate, too familiar, and he had no right to it. Not now.
"It's Ms. Carter," she said, her voice turning to ice. "In a professional setting, I'd prefer we use last names."
He actually smiled. A tiny smile that didn't touch his eyes. "Of course. Ms. Carter. This is... a complication."
Bianca let out a sharp, bitter laugh before she could stop herself. "A complication? Is that what you call it?"
"What would you call it?" he asked, his tone reasonable.
"I'd call it fraud," she snapped, her legal mind taking over, turning her humiliation into an accusation. "Or at the very least, misrepresentation. You neglect to tell the woman you're taking to your penthouse that you're engaged?"
He didn't flinch. He didn't even look guilty. "Yes," he said simply.
Just, yes. No apology. No excuse. The sheer arrogance of it took her breath away.
"You're unbelievable," she whispered, shaking her head. "That woman, Tasha Pearson. Does she know what a…"
"This has nothing to do with Tasha," he cut in, his voice suddenly sharp. "And it has nothing to do with last night. Last night was... a misunderstanding. One that will not happen again."
There it was. A misunderstanding. A mistake. She felt that cold, sick feeling rising in her stomach again.
"It won't," she said, her voice hard. "Believe me. It won't."
He sighed and ran a hand over his jaw. For a second, he looked tired. "Look. My engagement…, it's complicated."
"I don't care," she lied.
"It's a family obligation," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "A duty. It's not a... a love match. It's not what you think."
"And you think that makes it okay?" Bianca asked, her voice rising. "You think telling me it's just a 'family obligation' makes what we did last night acceptable? It makes it worse. You used me to escape your 'duty' for a few hours."
He had the grace to finally look uncomfortable. "I didn't use you, Bianca. I was... escaping, yes. And so were you."
She flinched. He was right. That's what stung the most. She had been just as reckless, just as desperate for a moment of freedom.
"I apologize," he said, and the word actually sounded sincere. "I should have been more honest. But as you said, neither of us expected to see the other again."
"No," Bianca said, shaking her head. "We didn't."
A heavy silence settled between them. The tension from last night was still there, a thick, electric current under the surface of the corporate chill.
She grabbed her bag, her decision made. "Well, this was a great start to my new job. You don't have to worry, Mr. Blackwell. I'll ask Ms. Parker to reassign me. I'm sure the firm has other lawyers who can handle this deal. It was a pleasure not to meet you."
She turned and marched to the door, her hand on the handle. She was almost free.
"No."
His voice stopped her again. It wasn't loud, but it had the force of a command.
She froze, her back to him. "What did you say?"
"I said, no," he repeated, his voice calm. "I just sat through a two-hour meeting, Ms. Carter. You're the sharpest one in the room. Sharper than Parker by a mile."
Bianca turned around slowly. He was watching her with that same unreadable expression, the strategist back in full control.
"I don't care about last night," he said, walking toward her. "It happened. It's done. But I am not letting the best legal mind on this team get 're-assigned' off my deal because of a complication."
He stopped a few feet away, close enough that she could smell the faint, expensive scent of his cologne. It was the same scent from the hotel, and her stomach clenched.
"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low. "You're on this deal. With me. We will be professional. We will be practical. And this will never be spoken of again."
Bianca stared at him, her heart hammering. He wasn't asking. He was telling her.
He had just humiliated her, admitted to using her to escape his fiancée, and now... he was ordering her to stay. He was trapping her.
"I can't," she whispered.
"Yes, you can," he said, his voice flat. "You're a professional. I'm a professional. Last night was an anomaly. It's over."
He stepped around her and pulled the heavy door open, holding it for her. It was a clear dismissal.
"This is the biggest transaction Sterling & Cross has handled this year," he said quietly as she walked past him, her skin prickling from his proximity. "If you want to impress your partners, you'll be on the planning call tomorrow at ten."
Bianca didn't look at him. She just kept walking, her new heels clicking on the marble floor, echoing the frantic beat of her heart.
She was trapped. Trapped by the job she'd just started, and trapped by the man she'd just slept with.
She had a terrible, sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.