Chapter 282

Evelyn Sinclair placed the steaming bowl of chicken soup on Dominic Blackwood's desk with practiced grace. "Mr. Blackwood," she called softly, recalling Genevieve Prescott's advice that the quickest path to a man's heart was through his stomach.

Not that Evelyn knew how to cook - she could barely boil water. But her adoptive mother Genevieve was a culinary genius.

Dominic turned, his chiseled features momentarily stunning the rising actress. There was no denying his striking appearance - not just his sculpted jawline but the commanding aura of a seasoned corporate titan.

Though young, Dominic carried himself with the regal bearing of a king forged in boardroom battles.

"Mr. Blackwood, I wanted to discuss our collaboration," Evelyn said, gesturing to the soup. "I hope you'll enjoy this."

A slight frown creased Dominic's brow. "Thank you, Ms. Prescott. But I've already breakfasted. Sebastian Whitmore will handle the collaboration details." His tone remained glacial.

The dismissal stung like a fishbone lodged in Evelyn's throat. Her eyes flickered to the stacks of documents on his desk. "Have I disturbed your work?"

Despite being the adopted daughter of Governor Jonathan Prescott, Evelyn couldn't shake her orphanage origins. The specter of the real Prescott heir potentially returning haunted her.

She needed insurance - a wealthy husband to secure her future. Dominic checked every box, though his inscrutability frustrated her. Was this aloofness innate or cultivated?

Something in Evelyn's dejected expression seemed to remind Dominic of someone. His icy demeanor thawed slightly. "No."

Evelyn's heart leapt at his softened tone. "My father keeps mentioning you since dinner. Perhaps you'd visit us sometime?" she ventured.

"My schedule is packed currently," Dominic replied evenly. "I'll pay Governor Prescott a visit when time permits."

Beaming, Evelyn produced an embossed card. "Then it's settled. My personal number - call anytime." She maintained perfect poise as he accepted it without reaction.

"I won't take more of your time," she said, turning gracefully. Patience was key - she'd pique his interest gradually.

Her movements exuded aristocratic breeding, yet Dominic found them studied. He'd met countless such women - all equally tiresome. Only Jonathan Prescott's status prevented him from showing disdain.

The moment Evelyn exited, the gilded card found its way into the trash bin.

Outside, Evelyn's composure shattered. Her stilettos clicked excitedly as she nearly danced down the hallway, barely suppressing squeals of delight.

As the elevator doors closed, she glimpsed a white-clad figure with raven hair at the corridor's end. Probably just some employee, though the woman's striking silhouette unsettled her.

Perhaps as Mrs. Blackwood, she'd need to purge all attractive female staff...

Evelyn's sunglasses hid her expression, but the triumphant smirk was unmistakable. The sight made Evelyn Sinclair's stomach twist.

What had Dominic said to elicit such joy? Something intimate?

Shaking off the thought, Evelyn knocked.

"Enter." The deep voice resonated through the door.

Smoke assaulted Evelyn's senses as she entered. Dominic lounged in his leather chair, a pale green cigar between his fingers - its earthy aroma oddly suiting his refined brutality.

In that moment, Dominic Blackwood resembled nothing so much as a dangerous masterpiece.