The headquarters of Blackwood Logistics was a forty-story monolith of steel and glass that pierced the downtown skyline. It was a fortress of commerce, designed to intimidate competitors and impress clients.
For Damon Blackwood, it was usually a sanctuary. Here, he wasn't a husband or a stepfather; he was the King. His word was law, his time was money, and his authority was absolute.
But today, the King was distracted.
Damon stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his corner office, looking down at the ants scurrying on the pavement far below. It was 11:00 AM. Leo's interview with HR had started at 10:00.
He checked his watch for the third time in five minutes.
'Stop it,' Damon told himself, turning away from the view to pace across the plush grey carpet. 'He's just an applicant. If he gets it, he gets it. If he doesn't, it's a life lesson.'
He sat down at his massive oak desk—a fortress in itself—and tried to focus on the shipping manifests from the Shanghai merger. The numbers blurred. All he could think about was Leo in that grey suit, walking through the lobby, smiling at strangers with that devastating, innocent charm.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, making him jump.
"Mr. Blackwood?" It was Sarah, his executive assistant. She had been with him for ten years and was the gatekeeper to his life.
"Yes, Sarah?"
"There's a... young man here to see you," Sarah said. Her voice sounded amused, which was rare. "A Leo Sterling? He says he just finished his interview on the fourth floor and wanted to 'report in' to the boss."
Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. He had specifically told Leo not to use his name to get favors. Reporting in to the CEO after an entry-level interview was audacious.
It was also exactly what Damon wanted to hear.
"Send him in," Damon said, his voice dropping a decibel.
A moment later, the heavy double doors opened.
Leo walked in.
If he had looked nervous the night before, he looked triumphant now. The grey suit looked even better under the stark office lights. He walked with a bounce in his step, his eyes wide as he took in the cavernous office—the leather sofas, the wet bar, the panoramic view of the city.
"Wow," Leo breathed, stopping in the center of the room. "So this is where the magic happens."
Damon stood up, buttoning his jacket instinctively. "It's where the work happens, Leo. How did it go?"
Leo turned his beam on Damon. "I think it went great! Mrs. Gable in HR is really nice. She asked about my GPA and my electives. I told her I was eager to learn the family business from the ground up."
"You dropped the 'family business' line?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Subtly," Leo winked. He walked over to one of the guest chairs in front of the desk—low-slung, modern leather chairs—and sat down.
He didn't just sit; he draped himself. He crossed one leg over the other, the tight grey fabric of his trousers stretching taut over his thigh. He leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests, looking entirely too comfortable in the center of Damon's power.
"She said I'd hear back by Monday," Leo said. "But between you and me... I think I charmed her."
"Mrs. Gable is a shark," Damon warned, sitting back down. "Don't get cocky."
"I'm not cocky. I'm confident. You told me to be confident." Leo's eyes roamed over the desk, landing on the silver pen set, the stack of files, the nameplate that read DAMON BLACKWOOD - CEO. "It's different seeing you here."
"Different how?"
"You're bigger," Leo murmured.
Damon paused, his hand freezing on his mouse. "Excuse me?"
"Your presence," Leo clarified quickly, smiling innocently. "At home, you're Dad. You're in sweats, watching the game. Here... you're huge. Scary, almost. I bet people are terrified of you."
Damon felt a flush of pride mixed with something darker. "Fear isn't the goal. Respect is."
"I respect you," Leo said softly. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, staring across the desk. "I want to work here so bad, Damon. I want to be close to this."
'Close to this,' or 'Close to you'? The distinction felt blurry.
"If you get the job, Leo, you'll be in the bullpen on the fourth floor," Damon reminded him, trying to re-establish the hierarchy. "You won't be up here. The executive floor is restricted."
Leo's smile didn't falter. He stood up, smoothing down his jacket. He walked around the side of the desk.
Damon tensed. "Leo?"
"Just looking at the view," Leo said. He walked past Damon to the window, standing right where Damon had been pacing earlier. He looked out at the city. "It's amazing. You can see everything from up here. It makes everyone else look so small."
He turned around, leaning his hip against the window sill. He was backlit by the sun, a halo of light around his brown hair. He was less than three feet away from Damon's chair.
"I promise I won't be a distraction," Leo said. "I'll be the best intern you've ever had. I'll get your coffee. I'll file your papers. I'll do whatever you tell me to do."
The submission in his voice was thick, syrupy.
Damon stared at him. The office, usually a place of cold logic and hard numbers, suddenly felt suffocatingly intimate. He could smell the vanilla scent Leo wore, clashing with the sterile air conditioning.
"Just... wait for HR to call," Damon managed to say, his throat dry. "Go home, Leo. I have a meeting in ten minutes."
"Okay." Leo pushed off the window sill. As he walked past Damon's chair to leave, his hand brushed against the back of the leather headrest. His fingers trailed over the material, lingering.
"See you at home, Boss," Leo whispered.
He walked to the door, giving a little wave to Sarah in the outer office before disappearing.
Damon sat in the silence, staring at the empty doorway.
He looked at the spot on the window where Leo had leaned. He looked at the chair Leo had sat in. The boy had been there for five minutes, and he had already marked the territory.
Damon groaned, swiveling his chair to face the window. He loosened his tie.
"I'm in trouble," Damon muttered to the skyline.
His phone buzzed on the desk. A text from Helen.
How did our boy do?
Damon picked up the phone. He typed back: He did fine.
He hesitated, then deleted it. He typed: He's going to get the job.
He hit send before he could change his mind. He knew, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that Mrs. Gable would call on Monday with an offer. And he knew he wouldn't stop it. He wanted Leo in the building. He wanted him on the fourth floor.
He wanted him closer.