C5 8:00 AM – His Rules
Skylar arrived at Apex Global at 7:15 the next morning, deliberately early.
She wanted the building quiet. Wanted time to breathe, to center herself before stepping into whatever game Logan Blackwood was playing. The lobby was nearly empty—just the soft hum of the overnight cleaning crew and the faint scent of lemon polish lingering in the air. Her heels echoed across the marble as she swiped her badge and rode the elevator alone.
The marketing floor was still dark when she reached her desk. She dropped her bag, turned on only her desk lamp, and opened her laptop. The glow lit her face in the dim space: long auburn hair twisted into a low knot, subtle makeup that couldn’t quite hide the faint shadows under her hazel eyes. She hadn’t slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those piercing green ones staring back.
At 7:45, she gathered her tablet, a fresh notebook, and the strongest coffee the break-room machine could produce. The executive floor was already brighter—soft overhead lights warming the dark wood paneling. The air up here smelled different: expensive leather, subtle hints of cedar, power.
Logan’s office door loomed at the end of the hall—floor-to-ceiling frosted glass with his name etched in sleek silver letters. No assistant yet. Just quiet.
She knocked once, firm.
“Come in,” his voice called, low and clipped.
Skylar pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The office was massive, all sharp lines and muted luxury. One wall of windows overlooked a gray Manhattan morning, clouds hanging low over the skyline. A long black desk dominated the space, minimalist except for a single monitor and a closed laptop. Dark leather couches flanked a low glass table. No personal photos. No clutter. Everything screamed control.
Logan stood by the window, back to her, phone pressed to his ear. He wore a tailored black suit today, jacket still on, white shirt crisp against his broad frame. Even from behind, the tension in his shoulders was visible.
He ended the call without a goodbye and turned.
Those green eyes swept over her slowly—taking in the fitted navy dress that hugged her curves, the way she held her coffee like armor. His expression gave nothing away.
“You’re early,” he said.
“I like to be prepared.”
A faint curve touched his mouth—not quite a smile. “Sit.”
He gestured to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. Skylar chose the couch instead, setting her things on the glass table and crossing her legs. She wasn’t going to let him tower over her.
Logan’s eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her legs for a beat too long before he moved to the couch opposite her. He didn’t sit immediately. Just stood there, hands in his pockets, studying her like a puzzle he intended to solve.
The silence stretched.
Skylar sipped her coffee, refusing to fill it.
Finally, he sat—leaning forward, elbows on his knees, gaze locked on hers.
“We need ground rules,” he said.
She arched a brow. “For the project?”
“For this.” He gestured between them. “Whatever the hell this is.”
Skylar set her cup down carefully. “There is no ‘this,’ Logan. There’s work. That’s it.”
He let out a low, humorless sound. “You’re in my building. On my team. Reporting to me every morning. Don’t insult me by pretending that’s all.”
Heat crept up her neck, but she kept her voice level. “Then transfer me off the project.”
“No.”
The single word landed like a slap.
She stared at him. “You can’t force me to—”
“I’m not forcing anything,” he cut in, voice calm but edged with steel. “You want to walk away? Door’s right there. But you won’t. Because you need this job. And because you’re too stubborn to run.”
Skylar’s fingers curled into her palms. He wasn’t wrong, and that made it worse.
“What do you want from me, Logan?” she asked quietly.
His gaze darkened. He leaned closer—close enough that she caught the warm, smoky scent of his skin.
“I want to know why you never came back,” he said, voice rough. “I want to know if you thought about me even once in twelve years. I want—” He stopped, jaw clenching. “I don’t know what the fuck I want. But pretending you’re just another employee isn’t going to work.”
Skylar’s heart pounded. She held his stare, refusing to look away.
“I thought about you every day for years,” she admitted, the words scraping out before she could stop them. “Until I finally accepted you weren’t coming. That you’d forgotten.”
Something raw flashed across his face.
“I never forgot,” he said, so low she almost missed it.
The air between them crackled.
Then his phone buzzed on the table—sharp, insistent.
He glanced at the screen. Victoria Slade.
Of course.
He silenced it without answering.
Skylar stood abruptly, grabbing her tablet. “We should start the briefing.”
Logan didn’t move. Just watched her with that unreadable intensity.
“Fine,” he said finally. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
She sat back down, opening her notes with fingers that weren’t quite steady.
As he began talking—voice shifting into cold, professional CEO mode about timelines and target demographics—she felt his eyes on her more than the slides.
And when her own phone vibrated a minute later with a calendar update, she glanced down.
New recurring meeting added by L. Blackwood:
Daily Briefing – 7:30 AM starting tomorrow
Location: My office
Earlier.
Alone.
Longer.
Skylar looked up. He was already watching her, green eyes steady.
She didn’t say a word.
But the message was clear.
He was changing the rules.
And she wasn’t sure she could fight him—and win.
