The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 3

Damien Blackwood didn’t notice interns.

He didn’t need to.

Most interns weren’t even worth a glance—those rare few who managed to land the coveted spot at Blackwood Enterprises came through grueling university vetting, a token gesture from the company to maintain ties with elite academic institutions. Only one university was selected each year. Only one student given the opportunity. It was part PR, part power move. Let the schools brag. Let the students dream. It kept the illusion of outreach alive—while reminding everyone just how unreachable Blackwood truly was.

They never lasted.

They cracked under pressure, or folded the second they realized working for Blackwood wasn’t a fantasy.

He didn’t tolerate weakness.

He didn’t tolerate clutter.

He didn’t tolerate noise.

So he was confused—annoyed, even—when he noticed her.

It happened by accident.

He’d just returned from a two-week summit in Tokyo—exhausting, infuriating, profitable—and was storming through the 42nd floor toward his private suite when a flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye.

He didn’t know why he turned his head.

But he did.

She was seated inside one of the auxiliary offices—what used to be a storage suite, if he remembered correctly. The glass was slightly fogged from the morning humidity, but he could see her clearly.

A girl. Young. Slender. Head bent over a tablet, one foot nervously tapping beneath her desk.

Her blouse wasn’t designer. Her hair wasn’t professionally styled. And the shoes—he caught them just as she shifted—were scuffed at the toe. Worn out, like they’d walked too many miles for too many years.

She didn’t see him.

But he saw her.

And something about the image burned into his mind like a static shock.

Inside his office, Damien shrugged off his coat and dropped it on the couch. Ellie didn’t miss a beat, continuing her rundown as she trailed in behind him.

“The Zurich supplier issue could delay shipments by two weeks, but I’ve already escalated it to Calen’s team. Legal wants to revisit the indemnity clause on the Haven project. Oh—and the new intern arrived two days ago.”

He was halfway through unbuttoning his cuffs when that last part made him pause—barely, but just enough.

“Her name’s Maya Thompson,” Ellie added, scanning her tablet. “Twenty-five. On a full academic scholarship at Eastborough. Lives off-campus, no car, no known social media presence under her name. Coffee shop job in the mornings, night classes in business admin. Nothing flashy. No red flags. Just… quiet. Focused. I put her in one of the smaller rooms to keep her out of the way.”

He didn’t look up. Didn’t say anything.

Just moved around to the other side of his desk and sank into his chair like a man walking into battle.

The laptop in front of him blinked to life. Numbers. Contracts. A dozen meetings lined up like dominoes waiting to fall.

But he didn’t see any of it.

Not really.

His fingers hovered over the keys, but his mind—unwillingly, frustratingly—replayed the image of the girl in the glass room.

Quiet. Focused. Scuffed shoes.

His face remained cold. Blank. Detached.

But something inside him shifted.

A twitch. A ripple. Nothing visible, nothing he’d ever acknowledge.

He didn’t know why she caught his eye.

Didn’t care to understand it.

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