Chapter 2: Five Years of Blindness

Five years, three months, and twelve days.

That’s how long Martina Hayes had been his executive assistant.

She knew his coffee order better than he did. Americano, double shot, no sugar, extra hot at 7:00 AM. Iced after 2:00 PM.

She knew his mother’s birthday. His sister’s favorite flowers. The names of his godchildren.

She knew which clients he could charm and which required the nuclear option.

She knew the password to his private accounts. The combination to his home safe. The exact words to say to his father’s lawyer when the old man’s dementia made him forget Jordan had power of attorney.

She knew everything.

And he knew almost nothing about her.

No, that wasn’t true.

He knew she took her tea with milk and one sugar.

He knew she had a younger brother studying engineering at Columbia. She’d requested three days off last spring for his graduation.

He knew she lived in a studio apartment in Brooklyn. He’d seen the address on her W2 form.

He knew she was twenty-eight years old, originally from Atlanta, and had a master’s degree in business administration from NYU. She’d earned it while working full-time at a consulting firm before joining Blackwell Enterprises.

He knew she was brilliant. Irreplaceable. Utterly wasted sitting outside his office, managing his calendar.

He knew all of that.

But he’d never known she could look like this.

Move like this.

Command a room full of Manhattan’s most powerful people with nothing more than her presence.

He’d never known because he’d never really looked.

“They’re coming this way,” Vivian murmured, her voice thick with anticipation.

“Oh, this is delicious. Marcus looks like the cat who got the cream, and you, darling, look like you want to murder him.”

Jordan’s expression smoothed into the mask he’d perfected over fifteen years.

Cool. Controlled. Absolutely unbothered.

He was Jordan Blackwell, CEO of Blackwell Enterprises, worth $3.7 billion. Featured on the cover of Forbes three times. Named one of Manhattan’s most eligible bachelors for five consecutive years.

He didn’t get rattled.

He certainly didn’t get rattled over his secretary showing up at a charity gala with his business rival.

“Jordan.”

Marcus Ashford’s voice carried the smooth confidence of old money and older grudges.

“What a surprise seeing you here. I thought you’d be in Singapore closing that tech deal.”

“Change of plans,” Jordan said.

His eyes moved past Marcus to Martina.

Up close, she was even more devastating.

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