Chapter 2 #3
"If we're inviting someone into our world, it defeats the purpose if we dictate what they're allowed to see. We asked your magazine because of its credibility. It would be foolish to undermine that before you've even written the first sentence."
There's conviction in his voice.
Not defensiveness.
Not public relations.
Conviction.
I find myself liking him almost immediately. Not simply because he's charming—although he undoubtedly is—but because he seems entirely comfortable with himself. He isn't trying to impress me. He's simply... being himself.
Adrian glances toward the closed office door before looking back at me.
"Actually," he says, a thoughtful smile crossing his face, "there's someone I think you should meet before we start planning your interviews."
"Oh?"
"My brother."
I can't help smiling.
"The elusive Julian Blackwell?"
He laughs.
"So that's his reputation now?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"I'll have to give him a hard time about that."
"You make it sound like convincing him to sit down for an interview won't be difficult."
Adrian's smile turns almost mischievous.
"I didn't say that."
He rises from the sofa, straightening the sleeve of his suit jacket.
"But I do think you'll find him far more interesting than I am."
"I somehow doubt that."
"So does he," Adrian says with an amused shake of his head.
He walks toward the office door and reaches for the handle before glancing back at me. I slowly stand from my seat.
"Julian's been involved in parts of this company the public rarely sees. If you really want to understand Blackwell..."
He opens the door.
"...you should understand him."
Adrian looks into the hallway.
"Julian? Do you have a minute?"
I hear footsteps before I see anyone. Measured.
Unhurried. Whoever is walking toward the office isn't rushing simply because someone called his name.
The pace is steady, almost deliberate, as though the rest of the building naturally adjusts itself around him.
A second later, a deep voice carries through the open doorway.
"For you?"
There's the faintest trace of amusement in it.
"I suppose I can spare sixty seconds."
The voice reaches the room before he does.
Low. Even. Controlled. Then he steps through the doorway.
For the briefest moment, everything else fades into the background.
He's tall, just as his brother— 6'3"—with broad shoulders that fill out the dark charcoal suit he's wearing as though it had been tailored stitch by stitch for him alone.
The jacket hangs perfectly across his frame, the crisp white shirt beneath open at the collar just enough to soften what is otherwise an unmistakably commanding presence.
He isn't handsome in the polished, approachable way Adrian is. He's...I struggle to find the right word before my brain seems to stop cooperating altogether.
Striking.
There isn't a single feature competing for attention.
Everything simply works together. Strong jaw.
Dark hair that's been pushed back with careless fingers rather than painstaking effort, although unlike his brother, Julian has some salt and pepper streaks at his temples and his crown, which elevates his appeal tenfold.
A light shadow along his jaw that suggests the beginning of a beard by day's end.
Then his eyes meet mine. Blue. Not simply blue, but a clear, piercing shade that somehow manages to be both startlingly bright and completely unreadable at the same time.
For one impossible heartbeat, the room disappears.
I forget the carefully rehearsed introduction I'd been mentally practicing since leaving Philadelphia.
All I'm aware of is the unsettling sensation that this man has looked directly through every professional wall I've spent years building.
It lasts less than a second. Then reality catches up with me and I realize I've forgotten to breathe.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
I force myself to inhale just as Adrian steps between us, blissfully unaware of the tiny internal crisis unfolding inside my head.
"Julian," Adrian says, motioning toward me, "this is Sophie Callahan."
Julian's attention never wavers. His expression doesn't change. Not noticeably, anyway. If I weren't trained to study people's reactions for a living, I might have missed the almost imperceptible flicker that passes through his eyes before disappearing as quickly as it came.
He closes the remaining distance between us. Everything about him feels... composed.
Not cold.
Controlled.
There's a difference.
"Sophie," he says.
My name sounds different in his voice.
Lower.
Slower.
As though he's testing it before deciding whether he likes it. I extend my hand.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwell."
His gaze drops briefly to my hand before returning to my face.
Then he takes it. His handshake is firm.
Warm. Confident. Not lingering. Not rushed.
Professional. Yet the instant our hands meet, a strange awareness shoots unexpectedly through me.
It's nothing dramatic. Nothing anyone else in the room could possibly notice, just... awareness.
The unmistakable realization that I'm suddenly, acutely conscious of myself. The warmth of his hand. The closeness between us. The fact that he's several inches taller than me. The faint scent of cedarwood and something clean I can't quite place.
My pulse betrays me with one hard beat against my ribs. I withdraw my hand a fraction sooner than I normally would. I have to remind myself to stay professional.
"I'm looking forward to working with you," I say, relieved that my voice sounds perfectly steady.
"So am I."
His answer is short and a matter-of-fact.
No unnecessary charm.
No effortless charisma like Adrian.
If Adrian naturally fills a room with warmth, Julian seems to command one simply by existing in it. It's... unnerving. Adrian looks back and forth between us with an amused smile.
"I was just telling Sophie she should spend some time with you while she's here."
Julian shifts his attention toward his brother.
"Were you?"
"I was."
"Interesting."
"Is that your way of saying no?"
Julian slips one hand into the pocket of his trousers before looking back at me.
"How long will the profile take?"
I answer before Adrian can.
"A few weeks, perhaps one month at the most."
His eyes remain on mine.
"Depending on access."
"Reasonable."
"I'll be interviewing members of your family, company executives, longtime employees, and anyone else who helps tell the story accurately."
"You've done your homework."
"I always do."
Something almost imperceptible touches the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but more like the suggestion that one briefly considered making an appearance. It's gone before I'm entirely certain I saw it. Adrian notices it too. I can tell by the amused look that flashes across his face.
"See?" Adrian says, looking at me.
"I told you he'd be interesting."
Julian doesn't take his eyes off me.
"I don't believe that's exactly what you said."
"It's close enough."
Adrian folds his arms across his chest.
"Sophie was under the impression I'd be handling most of the interviews."
"That seemed logical," I admit.
"It was logical," Adrian agrees.
Julian studies me for another quiet moment. The silence isn't uncomfortable—it's simply intentional, almost as though he's weighing something only he can see.
Finally, he speaks.
"If you're writing the story of Blackwell..."
He pauses.
"...then you should see all of it."
I wait.
"So?"
Adrian asks, clearly sensing where his brother is going. Julian finally looks at him.
"I'll handle her interviews."
For the first time since I'd walked into the office, Adrian looks genuinely surprised.
"You will?"
"Yes."
Adrian lets out a short laugh.
"I wasn't expecting that."
"Neither was I," Julian replies evenly.
I glance between the two brothers. Even without knowing them, it's obvious Adrian hadn't planned for this. He'd invited Julian to introduce us, but nothing more.
"You don't have to rearrange your schedule on my account," I say.
Julian turns back toward me.
"I'm not rearranging it."
His voice remains calm.
"I'm prioritizing it."
The words shouldn't affect me. Professionally, they're excellent news; Unlimited access. Direct access. The kind of opportunity journalists spend years hoping for. So why does it suddenly feel like something far more complicated?
Adrian exhales through a smile and shakes his head.
"Well..."
He laughs quietly.
"I suppose that settles that."
"It does," Julian says.
Adrian looks at me.
"I hope you weren't counting on me being your primary guide through the company."
I return his smile.
"I've learned not to count on anything today."
"Probably wise."
Julian reaches for the office door.
"I have a board meeting in five minutes."
He looks back at me.
"My assistant will contact you this afternoon."
A beat passes.
"We'll begin tomorrow."
I nod.
"I'll be ready."
"I assumed you would."
Our eyes meet one final time before he steps into the hallway. The door closes softly behind him. For several seconds, neither Adrian nor I says a word. Finally, Adrian lets out a quiet breath and looks at me with a smile that borders on disbelief.
"I honestly didn't see that coming."
I glance toward the closed door. Somehow I have the distinct feeling that the assignment I walked into this morning has just become something neither of us expected.