Forced to be Sirs

Emma Sinclair held tightly to her old purse strap. Her heart raced as she walked into the huge building that screamed wealth. The marble floor sparkled under the soft light of fancy chandeliers. It smelled like expensive cologne, and it made her stomach flip.

She felt out of place.

The receptionist, a sharp-looking woman in a smart suit, barely looked up. "Miss Sinclair?" she asked.

Emma swallowed hard. "Yes?"

"Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you. Take the private elevator to the top floor," the receptionist said.

Emma hesitated for a moment. She thought about running away. But deep down, she knew she couldn't do that. Not when everything was on the line. Her father's voice rang in her ears, filled with worry.

"You have to go, Emma. It's our only shot."

With resolve, Emma pushed her feet forward and entered the slick elevator. The doors closed softly behind her, and she caught her reflection in the mirrored walls. Her green eyes were wide with fear. Her lips were pressed tight, and her fingers twisted the strap of her purse, her only link to comfort.

The numbers lit up one by one. 40th floor. 50th floor. 60th floor. With every second, the weight in her chest grew heavier. Finally, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened into a thick silence.

Before her was an enormous office filled with sleek modern furniture. It looked impressive and a bit overwhelming. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed off the stunning city view, but it wasn't the skyline that took her breath away.

It was him.

Damien Blackwood sat at a large mahogany desk. His presence filled the room with a strong energy. He didn't look up right away. His fingers moved over some papers, and his face gave nothing away. The dark suit he wore fit perfectly, as if it was meant just for him.

Emma had seen his photos, but they didn't show how powerful he looked in real life. He radiated authority and something else that made her uneasy.

Finally, he looked up and locked his intense blue gaze on her.

"Miss Sinclair," he said.

Emma's heartbeat raced. His voice was smooth, but it sent shivers down her spine.

"Mr. Blackwood," she managed to reply, trying hard to keep it steady.

He leaned back in his chair and looked at her with a cool gaze. "Do you know why you're here?"

Emma thought for a moment. "I assume it has to do with my father."

A slight smile crossed his lips. "Correct. Your father owes me a lot of money. More than he'll ever be able to pay back."

Emma clenched her fists tight. She knew this all too well. She had watched the worry eat away at her father. She had seen the late nights and the unpaid bills piled up in the kitchen. But she was still confused about why she was here.