A Plaything For CEO Blackwood

# 110 An Attack on the CEO's Life

The busy city air was very different from the quiet comfort of Mr. Blackwood's home, where Annabel had been spending the last few weeks. She missed the familiar buzz of the publishing house, and the clatter of keyboards. Although he didn’t approve of it, Anna decided to show up at the office today. She was the CEO and didn’t necessarily need to show up but she still had friends there, Alia and co; her new position would not rob her of that.

Annabel had come out with one of Maxwell’s cars, it was his least expensive car and she had also not mentioned it to him. Of course the servants had no problem with her taking it, but Anna knew they must have informed him. Too bad she had turned off her phone, so he wouldn’t be able to reach her on time, she would be at the office before he could do anything about it.

As she arrived in front of the publishing house, Anna pulled the car over by the roadside. She came down and walked to the back door with her back to the main road, she opened the back door and grabbed some files she had put there.

Just as Anna closed the car door and turned around, a car came speeding in her direction. Instinct kicked in, and Annabel leaped back, her heart pounding in her chest. The car missed her by mere inches, the rush of displaced air whipping her hair back like a furious tempest.

But it wasn't just the close call that made her feel cold. In the rearview mirror, the driver, a woman with fiery red hair; Anna couldn’t make out her face but she felt like she had seen that lady before. The lady sped off with a sick smile on her lips.

“Hey! Are you blind or something?” she cursed.

Annabel stopped moving. Her heart was beating so fast that it hurt her ribs. That looked like it on purpose. Did someone just try to hurt her? Her heart was racing and her legs were shaking as she stood there. Who was that?

Maybe coming out of Mr. Blackwood’s high fences was not such a good idea, she had so many enemies now that she couldn’t tell which was an accident and which was an attack. Could it be Jimmy? If he could send messages from prison, then what is stopping him from arranging another attack on her?

** **

The office door creaked open, revealing Marshall standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin plastered on his face. Jenny, currently glaring daggers at a spreadsheet that refused to cooperate, whipped her head up, her expression hardening like concrete.

"Marshall," she drawled, the word dripping with annoyance. "To what do I owe the dubious pleasure?" she muttered and aggressively closed the spreadsheet. She hated work, it was so difficult, why cant she just spend the rest of her life partying?

Undeterred by her frosty tone, Marshall sauntered in, closing the door with a gentle click. "Come on now, Jenny, no need for the frostbite treatment. I agree we started off on a slight… bumpy note, wouldn't you say?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Bumpy? More like a full-on collision course. I already told you, don’t waste your time trying to be nice to me, I don’t like you." she confessed.

Marshall chuckled, the sound genuine. "Alright, alright, you win. I owe you an apology. Bumping into you like a runaway bowling ball the other day was, well, let's just say not my finest moment. And if you have other grievances against me, I also apologize, it doesn’t have to be that way, if I had the power to change it, then I would."

Jennifer was almost tempted to ask him to quit. If he didn’t want her mad at him, then he should return to her what is rightfully hers, but then it wasn’t his to give. If there was anyone that deserved her hatred, it was her father.

"Charming," Jenny muttered sarcastically, turning back to her spreadsheet with pointed emphasis.

But Marshall wasn't finished, neither was he discouraged by her hostility. He leaned against the doorframe, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look, I was hoping we could, you know, bury the hatchet? How about tonight after work, let’s settle this over some delicious Thai food, perhaps?"

Jenny swiveled her chair around, a skeptical look on her face as she furrowed her eyebrows. Did she hear right?

"Dinner? With you?" she asked to be sure that she heard correctly.

"Yes, me," Marshall confirmed, tilting his head playfully. "Think of it as a peace offering. And a chance to get to know me… without the element of surprise and a bruised shoulder." He said humorously.

Jennifer huffed. She was supposed to say no to that offer because she didn’t like him, but hey, she doesn’t have beef with Thai food, so why should she turn down an offer for a nice evening?

It is just dinner, nothing will change about the way she feels towards this man, she will still see him as a thief who stole her birthright.

"Intriguing," Jenny muttered, tapping her pen against her chin with a fake smile. "Tell me more about this 'delicious Thai food.'"

"Spicy, aromatic, and authentic," Marshall described, gesturing dramatically. "The kind that makes you forget about bad first impressions and spreadsheets that fight back."

She laughed, genuinely this time. Okay, he really got her. “Fine, but I won't assure you that it would make us friends. Where are we having this dinner?” she queried.

“Oh, my place, that is if you don’t mind.”

Jenny creased her brows. “Your place? Didn’t you say Thai food?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, homemade. You didn’t know I used to be a chef, did you?” he asked with a proud smile.

“Hmm,” Jenny hummed, now intrigued by this young man, maybe she could get a story time along with the dinner. There is no harm in knowing your enemy better, right?

“Alright then, your place, 8pm. It better be worth it or I am never going to speak to you again.” She flashed a warning glare at him.

He smiled, exposing his shiny white teeth. “Sure… You can count on me, can't risk disappointing a stunning lady like you.”

Jenifer blushed and feigned unimpressed. “Okay, you can leave now, some of us have spreadsheets to deal with.” She huffed and he laughed before leaving the office.

Dinner Huh? Well let's see how it goes.

TBC