Mayas POV
I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring, jarring me from a restless sleep. Today was my first official day at the Blackwood Foundation, and nerves had kept me tossing and turning all night. My mind kept replaying that interview with Mr. Blackwood, his calm yet intense gaze and the sheer weight of his presence in that room.
I spent longer than usual getting ready, smoothing down my best blouse and carefully brushing out my curls. My studio apartment looked even smaller in the morning light, cluttered with stacks of canvases and paint supplies that I'd long ago run out of space for. I'd always dreamed of a larger studio, a place where my art could breathe, and today felt like a small step closer to that reality.
As I made my way through the crowded city streets, I felt the buzz of the city around me—people hurrying to work, taxis honking, the distant hum of construction. But today, for the first time in ages, I didn't feel like an outsider just trying to keep up. Today, I had a purpose, a destination, and a place where I belonged… maybe.
The Blackwood Foundation's building loomed above me, tall and imposing, with its sleek glass facade reflecting the morning sun. I paused, taking a deep breath before pushing through the revolving doors and into the lobby. The pristine, minimalist space was as intimidating as it had been yesterday, but I kept my head high, walking with the kind of confidence I was determined to fake until it felt real.
"Ms. Hargrove!" Emily greeted me with a smile as she appeared from around the corner, clipboard in hand. Her brisk efficiency was somehow reassuring, a reminder that someone here knew what they were doing, even if I didn't.
"Good morning, Emily," I said, hoping my voice sounded as calm as hers.
"Are you ready for your first day?" she asked, her smile encouraging.
"Yes. Absolutely." I didn't let myself hesitate, even though I was anything but ready.
"Great. Mr. Blackwood has assigned you to the gallery prep team to start, helping catalog new acquisitions and preparing pieces for the upcoming exhibit," Emily explained as she led me through the hallways. Her heels clicked confidently on the polished floor, a rhythm I tried to keep pace with. "You'll be working alongside Liam, one of our senior curators. He'll show you the ropes."
We finally stopped in front of a sleek, frosted glass door. Emily knocked once and then opened it, ushering me inside. The room was filled with rows of tables, each covered with carefully arranged artifacts and pieces of art, from paintings to sculptures to ancient-looking artifacts. At the far end of the room stood a man, tall and lean, with glasses perched on his nose and a faint air of curiosity as he studied a painting.
"Liam, this is Maya Hargrove," Emily announced. "She's joining us on the curatorial team."
Liam turned, his gaze warm and welcoming as he gave me a nod. "Nice to meet you, Maya. Welcome to the team."
"Thank you," I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but friendly, and I felt some of my nerves ease.
"Alright, I'll leave you two to it," Emily said, giving me an encouraging smile before heading out. I was on my own now, but Liam's relaxed demeanor helped me feel a bit more at ease.
"Ready to dive in?" he asked, gesturing toward the tables of art.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied with a laugh, grateful for his casual tone.
"Good answer," he said with a smile. "Today, we're working on cataloging these recent acquisitions, preparing them for the opening. Mr. Blackwood has very specific standards when it comes to display and organization, so I'll walk you through how we do things here."
He handed me a pair of white gloves and motioned toward a delicate sculpture on the table. "Start with this one. It's a piece from a renowned Japanese artist, one of Mr. Blackwood's personal favorites."
I slipped on the gloves, carefully picking up the small, intricate sculpture. I could feel the weight of it in my hands, both physically and symbolically—a reminder that I was handling a piece of someone's soul, someone's hard work and creativity. And somehow, Mr. Blackwood had trusted me to take care of it.
As we worked, Liam talked me through the process of cataloging each piece, recording every detail from the artist's name to the materials used and the piece's history. His voice was calm and steady, making the overwhelming amount of information easier to absorb.
"What's Mr. Blackwood like to work for?" I found myself asking, unable to hide my curiosity.
Liam paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "He's... intense, to put it lightly. But he has a vision, a purpose behind everything he does. He demands excellence because he knows exactly what he wants. If you can keep up, it's worth it."
I nodded, letting his words sink in. It was a vague answer, but I got the impression that working under Mr. Blackwood was as challenging as it was rewarding. I glanced down at the sculpture in my hands, feeling the weight of the responsibility I'd taken on. This wasn't just a job—it was a chance to prove myself in a world I'd always dreamed of but never truly belonged to.
The hours slipped by as I immersed myself in the work, focusing on each piece, its story, and the details that made it unique. I was so absorbed that I didn't notice the faint sound of footsteps until a quiet voice interrupted us.
"Ms. Hargrove."
I looked up, heart skipping as I found myself face-to-face with Mr. Blackwood himself. He stood in the doorway, watching us with his usual reserved expression, his presence as overwhelming as ever.
"Mr. Blackwood," I managed, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness at seeing him again.
He glanced at the piece I was holding, then looked back at me, a faint glimmer of something—approval, maybe?—in his eyes. "I trust Liam has been showing you the proper cataloging procedures."
"Yes, sir," I replied, feeling my cheeks heat under his steady gaze. "I'm... learning a lot."
A flicker of a smile crossed his lips. "Good. We have high standards here, Ms. Hargrove. I expect you to meet them."
"Yes, of course," I said, nodding quickly. "I won't let you down."
Mr. Blackwood's eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as if he were weighing my words, and then he turned to Liam. "I'll need the finalized list of acquisitions by the end of the week. Please ensure everything is in order."
"Understood," Liam replied, his tone professional but respectful.
With a final nod, Mr. Blackwood turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall. I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, my heart still racing from the brief encounter.
"See what I mean?" Liam asked, a knowing smile on his face. "He has a presence, doesn't he?"
I nodded, feeling a strange thrill run through me. "Yeah. He really does."
As I turned back to the artwork in front of me, I couldn't help but feel a newfound determination. Working under someone like Alexander Blackwood would be challenging, but it was a chance to grow, to push myself further than I ever had before.
I was ready for whatever came next.