His Enemy’s Daughter

Amelia adjusted her blazer for the third time as the mirrored elevator climbed toward the 38th floor. The air inside felt too warm, despite the aggressive blast of air conditioning. Her reflection stared back—calm, composed, professional—but the pounding in her chest told a different story.

Today was her first time attending a meeting with Blackthorne Enterprises' top executives.

She had barely slept. Her morning coffee sat untouched on her desk downstairs. Kara had given her minimal details—"shadow a strategic acquisitions briefing"—but she'd seen the glint in her supervisor's eyes. Something was up.

When the elevator chimed, she stepped into a world she had only glimpsed in glossy business magazines. The floor smelled like polished wood and high-end cologne. A soft hum of computers and phones blended with the distant skyline that filled the windows like a moving painting.

A tall woman in a sleek headset approached. "Miss Hale? They're expecting you. Follow me."

Amelia's fingers tightened around her folder.

The assistant led her through a glass corridor, past oil paintings and hushed voices, until they reached a conference room that looked more like a war room. And standing at the head of it—like a general preparing for battle—was him.

Liam Blackthorne.

The man she'd only seen in press releases and the occasional magazine cover.

He looked even more intimidating in person.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. His dark hair slightly tousled, as if he didn't care that he looked like a storm walking in a suit. The faintest trace of stubble carved his jaw. And those eyes—

They locked on hers the moment she entered.

Steel-gray. Cool and watchful. But there was something else behind them, something hard to define.

Recognition? No. That was impossible.

Interest?

She quickly looked away, pretending to be occupied with her notes.

"Miss Hale," Liam said, his voice smooth and low. "I trust you've reviewed the Collins proposal?"

"I have, sir," she replied, summoning the firmest tone she could manage.

He gestured toward a chair. "Then have a seat. Let's see what you've got."

As the meeting began, Amelia tried to focus on the slides, the flow of financial projections, the analysts' debates about risk versus reward. She answered a few questions, kept her posture straight, spoke only when prompted.

But she couldn't ignore him.

Liam Blackthorne didn't just lead the meeting. He commanded it. Every person in the room deferred to him with subtle glances, silent nods. His words were sharp but never rushed. He listened more than he spoke—but when he did, everyone leaned in.

And every time she looked up, his eyes were on her.

Not constantly—but enough to make her skin burn.

Not in the predatory way she'd seen some men look at interns. No. This was different. Analytical. Assessing.

Almost like he was trying to figure her out.

Who are you, Mr. Blackthorne? she thought. And why do I feel like I already know your silence?

The moment the meeting ended, chairs shuffled and voices rose. Executives gathered their tablets and murmured goodbyes. Liam nodded politely but didn't speak.

Amelia reached for her folder.

Then his voice, sharp and clear: "Miss Hale. Stay a moment."

Her fingers froze.

She turned slowly to find everyone else already filing out the door, Kara giving her a curious glance as she left.

Now it was just the two of them.

Liam remained by the window, hands in his pockets, back to her. The city skyline stretched behind him, golden sunlight outlining his figure.

"Tell me," he said, without turning around. "Why Blackthorne Enterprises?"

The question caught her off guard.

Amelia straightened. "Because this company doesn't follow the market—it leads it. It's bold. Unpredictable. And I wanted to be a part of that."

He turned slightly, just enough for her to see the curve of his mouth. "A rehearsed answer."

"It's not."

He faced her now, walking toward the long glass table. "And are you learning?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what have you learned about me?"

His eyes held hers. Challenging.

She hesitated. "That you're deliberate. That you don't say anything without purpose. And that... people listen when you speak."

Liam let a silence hang between them. Then he stepped closer, slowly, each footfall precise. When he stopped, he was only a few feet from her.

Amelia's breath hitched.

He studied her face, his gaze trailing over her eyes, her mouth, her posture.

"Flattery from interns is rarely sincere," he said softly.

"I'm not flattering," she replied, quietly but firmly. "Just... observing."

The air between them shifted.

Something invisible. Heavy.

His eyes darkened for the briefest second, his jaw tightening.

She didn't look away.

And neither did he.

"I see," Liam murmured.

For one wild second, she thought he might reach for her.

He didn't. But the moment stretched—charged, undeniable. Her pulse throbbed at the base of her throat.

"Consider this your observation lesson," he said finally. "Sometimes silence reveals more than words."

Amelia exhaled slowly. "Yes, sir."

He stepped back, just barely. The room seemed colder without his proximity.

"You're dismissed."

She gathered her folder, nodding. But just as she reached the door—

"Miss Hale."

She turned.

"You were right about the Collins deal," he said. "Your analysis was sharper than half the room. Don't lose that instinct."

For a moment, something warm flickered inside her.

"Thank you, Mr. Blackthorne."

Then she left, heart pounding.

Back at her desk, Amelia collapsed into her chair and exhaled. Her fingers still trembled slightly.

What had that been?

He was her CEO. Untouchable. A myth in a tailored suit.

And yet… something in the way he looked at her made her skin hum.

It wasn't real, she told herself. Just adrenaline. Office nerves.

Still, her thoughts spun like a wheel.

Meanwhile, Liam remained alone in the executive suite.

He didn't move for a long time.

Everything about her—the way she spoke, the way she watched him without fear—was unexpected.

He'd planned to study her. Use her.

Not feel anything.

And yet... here she was. Disrupting his control with nothing but a glance.

He frowned.

He'd have to be careful. Very careful.

Because if he wasn't, this game would spin out of his hands before he ever got to make his next move.