Chapter 6 #2
But Konstantin's presence behind me and the weight of his threat against my father keep me in line.
"Everything is fine," I lie. "This is Mr. Morozov. He’s consulting with us on the restructuring."
"Restructuring?" she echoes, voice trembling. "Are we being acquired?"
"It’s a partnership," Konstantin explains, commanding instant attention as he steps around me, offering Sarah a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "We’re here to save the ship. You have nothing to worry about as long as everyone does their job."
It’s a threat dressed as advice.
She nods quickly, understanding the coded language. "Yes. Of course. Sir."
"Miss Blackwood and I have a great deal to discuss," Konstantin says. "Hold all calls. Cancel her appointments for the morning, and send in the file I requested."
"The legal file?"
"Yes. The one the courier delivered an hour ago."
Sarah eyes me, confused. I have no idea what file she’s talking about, but I can't let her stall.
"Do it," I say softly.
She nods and sinks back down, her hands shaking as she reaches for the phone.
Konstantin opens the double doors to the CEO's office. He stands back, mocking me with a gesture of chivalry as I slip inside.
It’s a large corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor. This was my father's quarters for twenty years, but I’ve made it mine. My books are on the shelves; my mother's photo is on the desk.
But as soon as Konstantin steps in and closes the door, locking it, the room shrinks. He sucks the oxygen out of the space.
He walks past me, ignoring the guest chairs, and goes straight to the massive mahogany desk. He walks around it and stands behind my chair, running a hand along the leather headrest.
"Nice view," he comments, looking out at the gray water and the cranes.
"Get away from there," I say.
"It’s a position of power," he muses, ignoring me. "You can see everything from here. The ships coming in. The storms rolling off the Atlantic. It makes you feel like a god, doesn't it?"
He turns to face me, leaning his hips against the back of my chair.
"But you are not a god, Helena. You are a girl watching her legacy sink."
A knock at the door interrupts him.
He walks over and unlocks it. Sarah stands there, trembling as she holds out a thick, black leather folder.
"The file, sir," she says quietly.
He takes it. "Thank you, Sarah. That will be all."
He shuts the door in her face and locks it again before walking back to the desk and dropping the folder onto the surface. It lands with a heavy thud.
"Sit down," he orders.
"I prefer to stand," I say, refusing to give him an inch.
He shrugs. "Suit yourself."
He opens the folder and spreads the documents across the desk. "Come here. Read."
I walk to the desk, keeping the heavy wood between us as a barrier, and examine the papers.
My blood runs cold.
It’s legal paperwork. High-level corporate contracts.
Resolution of the Board of Directors: Dissolution of Current Leadership. Grant of Irrevocable Operational Proxy to Morozov Holdings Ltd.
I scan the pages, horror building with every paragraph.
It’s a massacre.
He isn’t just taking over; he’s hijacking the fleet.
He’s granting himself absolute legal authority over the routes of the Blackwood Queen, the Blackwood Star, and the entire fleet, totally bypassing my father's ownership.
Because I've been acting in his place since he became a shadow of himself, my signature carries the exact same legal weight as his.
He’s stripping the assets and leaving the debt in the Blackwood name.
And the final document is a power of attorney. It gives him complete, unilateral control over every decision, every bank account, every hire and fire.
"You can't do this," I whisper. "This is illegal. You can't transfer assets like this without board approval."
"I have board approval," he says calmly, sliding a voting proxy toward me signed by the three major shareholders.
"How?" I breathe. "How did you get them to sign?"
"Everyone has a price, Helena. Or a secret." He taps the paper. "Mr. Henderson has a gambling problem similar to your father's. Mrs. Gable has a son who got into some trouble with drugs in Ibiza. Trouble that my associates helped to resolve. They were very happy to sign over their voting rights."
He looks at me, face impassive.
"The board is gone. The company is mine. All that’s left is the formality."
He takes a heavy black fountain pen from his pocket, uncaps it, and sets it on the document.
"Sign."
"This..." I choke on the words. "This destroys everything. You are stealing the ships."
"I’m securing my investment," he says. "I’m moving them to a jurisdiction where the banks cannot seize them."
"You are stealing my mother's legacy!" I shout.
Morozov Holdings mocks from the document.
He’s erasing us. He’s taking the name Blackwood and burying it in the dirt.
"No," I say.
"Excuse me?"
"No!" I grab the folder. "I’m not signing this! I’m not letting you turn my family's work into a front for your criminal empire!"
I hurl the folder across the room.
The papers fly everywhere, scattering across the floor like white feathers. The heavy leather cover hits the bookshelf with a loud crack and falls to the carpet.
"I won't do it!" I’m breathing hard, my chest heaving. "Kill me. Go ahead. Shoot me right here in the office. But I refuse to put my name on that paper!"
I scan the room for a weapon, anything. My hand lands on the heavy crystal ashtray on the corner of the desk—a hideous slab of lead crystal my father bought years ago. I grab it, feeling its lethal weight.
"Get out!" I scream, swinging the crystal high and coming at him. "Get out of my office!"
Konstantin moves much faster than a man of his size should be able to.
Before I can bring the weapon down, his hand shoots out and snatches my wrist.
His grip is a steel trap, stopping my arm dead with a jolt that jars my shoulder socket.
"Let go!" I scream, struggling.
He rips the ashtray from my hand and slams it back onto the desk, splitting the glass top.
"You possess a temper," he snarls.
He doesn't let go. He twists my wrist behind my back, forcing my body to turn, and shoves me forward.
My chest slams into the desk, knocking the air from my lungs in a painful whoosh.
"Get off me!" I kick backward, driving my heel into his shin.
He doesn't even flinch.
He presses his hips against me, pinning me to the desk. He uses his weight to trap me, flattening me against the wood and the scattered papers.
"You think you have a choice?" he growls.
His voice is right at my ear. I can feel the vibration of his chest against my back.
"You think this is a negotiation, Princess? You think you can throw a tantrum and I’ll walk away?"
He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back.
Pain flares in my scalp as my neck arches, exposing my throat to the ceiling.
"Look at me," he commands.
I squeeze my eyes shut. "No."
"Look at me!"
He tugs my hair sharply.
I gasp, my eyes flying open to stare at our reflection in the darkened window.
"This company is dead," he hisses. "It’s a rotting corpse. I’m the only thing keeping the vultures from picking the bones clean."
"You are the vulture!" I spit, tears of rage leaking from my eyes.
"I’m the King!" he roars.
The volume of his voice shakes me to the bone. The mask is slipping.
"And you," he drops his voice to a whisper, "are a subject. You exist because I allow it. You breathe because I permit it."
He shifts his grip, releasing my hair only to slide his hand down to the back of my neck. His large fingers wrap around my nape, thumb pressing into the sensitive spot behind my ear.
"You want to fight?" he asks softly. "Good. Fight. But know the cost."
He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
I shudder.
"If you don’t sign that paper," he whispers, "I’ll make a call."
I freeze.
"I’ll call the men in the lobby," he continues, his tone conversational. "And they will signal the team I also have stationed at your father's house. I won't kill him. No, death is too easy.” He pauses, letting the silence stretch.
"I’ll start with his hands. I’ll break every finger, one by one, as I did to Alexei. Then I’ll move to his knees. I’ll shatter him, Helena. I’ll leave him a conscious, screaming ruin."
A sob catches in my throat. "Please..."
"And then," he goes on, relentless, "I’ll burn this tower down. With everyone inside. Sarah. Dave. The girl at the reception. I’ll lock the doors and strike a match."
"You're a psychopath," I whisper, my voice breaking.
"I’m a businessman," he corrects. "And I’m closing a deal."
Hauling me up from the desk, he spins me to face him before he marches me backward, forcing me to stumble as my heels catch on the carpet, until the back of my legs hit the leather executive chair.
He shoves me down, and I fall into the seat, breathless and disheveled.
He straightens his jacket and takes a deep breath.
And just like that, the monster recedes. The rage vanishes, replaced by that terrifying, icy calm.
He walks around the desk, methodically gathering the scattered pages from the floor and arranging them into a neat stack. Without a hint of the beast who’d lunged, he places the document in front of me and uncaps the black pen.
Then, he walks behind my chair and leans over my shoulder, placing both hands on the desk, one on either side of me, caging me in his arms. I’m trapped in his scent, in his heat.
"Pick up the pen, Helena.”
The utensil doubles as a weapon. An object of my undoing.
"If I sign this," I whisper, "I’m helping you steal everything."
"If you sign this," he counters, "you’re saving your father's life. And, of course, the lives of your precious employees."
He reaches out, covering my right hand with his.
He forces my fingers to uncurl, presses the pen into my palm, and wraps my fingers tight around it.
"Be the dutiful daughter," he mocks. "Clean up his mess."
My hand shakes so violently I can barely hold the pen.
I look at the signature line. Authorized Officer.
I think of my mother. I think of how proud she was the day she put that sign on the building.
Forgive me, Mom.
I lower the pen. The nib scratches against the page as I write my name.
Helena Blackwood.
It isn’t a signature. It’s a surrender.
I drop the pen.
Konstantin snatches the paper away instantly. He checks the signature and smiles.
"Perfect," he says.
He caps the pen, slips it into his breast pocket, and steps back, finally opening the cage.
"Welcome to the family, Ms. Director," he says.
Director.
The word tastes like poison.
He tucks the folder under his arm as I slump in the chair, my head in my hands.
It's over. He has the company.
"Oh," Konstantin says. He stops at the door. "One more thing."
I look up, my eyes stinging with tears. "What? You have everything."
"Not everything," he says.
He taps the leather folder under his arm.
"This gives me the ships," he says softly. "But a ship is useless without a captain. You still have work to do,."
"I did what you asked," I whisper. "I signed."
"You signed a piece of paper," he says. "Tomorrow, the real work begins. You’ll learn that the shipping business doesn’t end with moving crates. It’s about moving opportunities."
He leaves the threat hanging in the air. I don't know what he means, but the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
He checks his watch.
"But that’s for tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate."
"Celebrate?"
"The merger," he says, his lips curving into a smirk. "I’ve reserved a table. A private dinner in the penthouse."
He opens the door.
"Get cleaned up. The driver will be waiting downstairs to take you back to the penthouse to change."
He stops at the threshold, his gaze sweeping over me one last time.
"Wear something red."
The door clicks shut.
I’m alone in my office, and the quietness rushes back, suffocating me.
The crack in the desk from the ashtray holds my attention for a fleeting moment before my eyes drift to the window overlooking the harbor, where the Blackwood Queen bobs.
None of this is mine anymore.
I touch my neck. The skin still burns. Yet another violation.
The truth hurts more. I didn't just sign a contract. I signed my death warrant.
And the worst part is I had no choice.
Lowering my head into my hands, I allow the first sob to break free.
But only one.
I wipe my face. I straighten my blazer.
Konstantin wants a director? Fine. I’ll be the best damn director he has ever seen. I’ll run this company so well that he will need me. I’ll make myself indispensable.
And then, once he trusts me, when he turns his back, I’ll burn him to the ground.