Mayas POV
The next morning, I woke with a mix of anticipation and exhaustion swirling inside me. The demanding pace of the Blackwood Foundation had already seeped into my bones, but something about the place, the art, and even the daunting standards filled me with a determination I hadn't felt in years. This wasn't just a job; it was a chance to change everything.
I arrived early again, wanting to stay ahead. Julian hadn't exactly given me a warm welcome yesterday, and I had no intention of being dismissed as a novice. My bag slung over my shoulder, I made my way to the archives, pausing briefly in front of a massive glass wall that stretched from floor to ceiling. Through it, the city skyline was just waking up, the light catching on steel and glass buildings like sparks of hope. I took a deep breath, letting it steady me.
When I reached the room, I was surprised to find Julian already there, pacing with restless energy. He barely acknowledged me as I set down my things. Instead, his attention was fixed on a carved wooden box that sat atop a pedestal, its intricate designs swirling like whispers of secrets. I hadn't noticed it there yesterday, and its sudden appearance piqued my curiosity.
"What's that?" I asked, unable to contain my interest.
His head snapped up, and for a moment, an unreadable expression crossed his face. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he said briskly, but his fingers tapped the edge of the box with what seemed like barely restrained impatience.
I frowned but turned away, focusing on my tasks for the morning. Yet, as I worked, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important about that box—something that went beyond mere cataloging.
Hours passed in a blur of meticulous assessments and note-taking. Every so often, I'd catch Julian glancing at the box, his usually composed face betraying tension. Whatever it contained, it wasn't just another artifact. My curiosity grew until it felt like a living thing, clawing at my attention.
The opportunity to satisfy it came when Julian was called away unexpectedly. As soon as the door closed behind him, leaving me alone, I moved toward the box, my heart pounding. I knew this was a line I shouldn't cross, but the pull was undeniable. Carefully, I traced my fingers over the carvings. They felt ancient, each line and curve steeped in mystery.
"Curiosity can be dangerous here."
The deep, unmistakable voice sent a jolt through me. I spun around to find Alexander Blackwood standing in the doorway, his expression as inscrutable as ever. My mouth went dry, and I instinctively stepped back, my hand falling away from the box.
"I-I was just—" I stammered, my pulse hammering in my ears.
"Investigating," he finished, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. "You're not the first to be drawn to it."
I forced myself to hold his gaze. "Then why leave it here, in plain sight?"
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. "To test people."
I swallowed hard, unsure whether I was being scolded or if this was another one of his cryptic games. "Did I pass?" I asked, the words escaping before I could stop them.
The corners of his mouth twitched, but his expression quickly turned serious. "This isn't a game, Ms. Hargrove. Some things are better left undisturbed."
The weight of his words pressed down on me, heavy and unyielding. "I understand."
"Do you?" His eyes bore into mine, as if searching for something hidden deep within me. "There is much about this place you don't know. The art, the collections—they hold more than beauty. They hold history, secrets, power." He glanced at the box, a flicker of something—almost like regret—crossing his features. "Some things are dangerous to uncover."
Silence stretched between us, thick and charged. I wanted to ask what he meant, but the intensity in his gaze made me hesitate. Instead, I nodded, trying to appear unfazed even as questions churned inside me. He studied me for a moment longer, then turned away.
"Continue your work," he said over his shoulder. "And remember—curiosity has consequences."
As the door closed behind him, I released a shaky breath. Whatever was inside that box, it was important enough to warrant his personal attention. The idea both thrilled and terrified me. Alexander Blackwood's world was larger—and darker—than I had imagined. And somehow, I had stepped into its shadows.
The rest of the day passed in tense quiet. Julian returned, his demeanor cooler than ever, and I kept my head down, focusing on the tasks at hand. But every so often, my gaze would drift to the box, its carved surface a silent reminder of secrets hidden in plain sight.
By evening, I was exhausted. I packed my things and made my way to the elevator, eager to escape the weight of the day's events. As the doors slid shut, I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes for a brief moment of respite. When they opened again, I was surprised to find myself face-to-face with Clara, her eyes wide with concern.
"You look like you've been through a war," she said, slipping inside and pressing the button for the lobby.
"It feels like I have," I admitted, forcing a smile. "This place is… intense."
"I can imagine," she said, studying me carefully. "You want to talk about it?"
Part of me did, desperately. But how could I explain what had happened? The secrets, the warnings, the enigmatic Alexander Blackwood? "Not tonight," I said softly. "I just need a break."
She nodded, linking her arm with mine as we stepped out into the night. The cool air was a welcome relief, washing away some of the tension. We walked in companionable silence for a while, and I felt some of the weight lift. Whatever this job demanded, I would face it. I had to.
But even as I tried to shake off the day, the memory of Alexander's warning lingered. There was more to this place than I had ever imagined. And whether I liked it or not, I was now part of it.