Craving My Ruthless Ceo novel Chapter 151

Chapter 151

Anna’s POV

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“…which is why I think moving the timeline up actually works in our favor,” Maison Beaumont was saying as I slipped into the conference room, tablet clutched against my chest.

I was late. Five minutes late because I’d spent an extra three minutes in the bathroom trying to calm my racing heart and cool my flushed cheeks after what had just happened in Roman’s office.

Seven days. The words kept echoing in my head.

I shook my head. Focus, Anna. You have a job to do.

Roman sat at the head of the table, looking completely composed in his fresh navy suit, no trace of the man who had been hard and desperate in my hand just twenty minutes ago.

His eyes met mine as I closed the door quietly behind me, and instead of the fury I’d expected for my tardiness, there was amusement.

Did he know I had been thinking about him? About us? About what would happen in seven days?

I moved silently toward the sideboard where the coffee service was set up, keeping myself invisible as I always did in these high level meetings.

This was my role. Support, observe, and facilitate. Pour the coffee, take notes, and stay in the background.

Roman leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“As I was saying, Maison, we’ve been working as hard as we can. The team has put in extensive overtime to accommodate the changes you requested when you moved the timeline up.”

“I understand that,” Maison replied, his tone pleasant but firm. He didn’t even glance my way as I carefully poured the dark liquid into the cups,

I carried the first cup over to Maison, setting it down carefully on his coaster. He continued speaking without acknowledging my presence,

“And I appreciate the effort, Truly, I do. But that’s precisely why I chose Blackwood Advertising for this campaign, Roman. Your reputation for delivering the impossible is what convinced me to bypass larger agencies.”

Once he was done, he finally acknowledged me.

“Thank you,” Maison said absently, wrapping his fingers around the cup without looking up from the presentation on the screen.

I returned to lift Roman’s cup. He was outlining the progress they had made on the billboard concepts.

“And the digital components are being finalized as we speak. The social media rollout is scheduled to begin

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Chapter 151

forty eight hours before the gala.”

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I approached his side of the table, hyper aware of every movement. Last time I’d spilled coffee all over him. I couldn’t afford another disaster like that.

I positioned the cup carefully, keeping my hand steady as I lowered it toward the table.

My fingers brushed against his as I set it down.

The contact was brief, but it sent electricity shooting up my arm.

Roman’s words broke for a second, so slightly that probably only I noticed, before he continued smoothly.

His thumb swept across my knuckles in a gesture hidden from Maison’s view by the angle of the table.

“Thank you, Anna.” His voice dropped half an octave on my name.

“Of course, Mr. Blackwood,” I managed, my voice strong despite the heat flooding through me.

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I moved to take my usual seat, the one behind Roman, tucked slightly back from the table where I could take

notes.

But as I settled into the chair, Roman’s hand found my thigh under the table, his fingers pressing gently through the fabric of my skirt.

The touch was hidden and possessive, sending shivers racing through me.

He leaned toward me slightly, his voice a whisper meant only for my ears.

“Take your seat beside me properly. You’ll need to present.”

My eyes widened. Present? In front of Maison Beaumont?

“Roman, I…” I whispered back, panic gripping my insides.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. His hand squeezed my thigh reassuringly before withdrawing. “Trust me.”

I pulled my chair closer to the table, my tablet suddenly feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“The gala is in seven days. Roman, I want magic,” Maison continued, taking a sip of his coffee. “The kind that makes people remember why they fell in love with fashion in the first place.”

Roman glanced at me, then back to Maison.

“Actually, I think this is an excellent opportunity for Anna to walk you through the concept we’ve developed.”

My head snapped toward him. What?

“Mr. Blackwood…” I started under my breath.

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Chapter 151

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Maison looked at me for the first time since I’d entered the room, his expression curious but not unkind.

Your assistant?”

“My assistant, yes, Roman nodded. His eyes encouraged me as I rose. Then, softer, leaning slightly toward

“Show him what you can do, Anna. You’ve got this.”

Roman turned back to Maison, taking command of the room.

“Before Anna begins, let me be clear about something. As the head of Blackwood Advertising, I take ultimate responsibility for every decision we make, every creative direction we pursue. The buck stops with me.”

Pride and terror mixed in my chest as I stood on shaky legs. Don’t mess this up. You’ve worked too hard.

The campaign shows what Beaumont has always stood for, but in a way that speaks to today. It is about timeless style updated for a new audience, luxury that feels alive and relevant.”

Maison leaned forward slightly, his full attention now on me and the screen.

I walked him through the key elements, the billboard placements, the influencer partnerships, and the social media strategy, keeping it concise but confident. By the time I finished, my hands had stopped shaking.

“I have to admit, I’m genuinely impressed.” Maison clasped his hands together. His gaze returned to me with newfound respect.

“I assumed you were simply handling administrative duties. This is sophisticated work. It’s exactly the shift I was hoping to see.”

“Thank you, Mr. Beaumont.” I grinned from ear to ear.

Roman winked at me.

Good job.

I read his lips.

“Perhaps you should think of expanding her role in this campaign,” Maison suggested, looking at Roman. “If she’s this involved in the creative…”

Roman smirked, pride evident on his face.

“I told you. And I’m working on getting her more involved. She’s a natural talent and…”

The conference room door slammed open with enough force to rattle the water glasses on the table,

Laurent Beaumont stormed in, his usual put together appearance disheveled, his face filled with fury.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

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