6. Penelope
Chapter 6
Penelope
Two and a half weeks into the job, and I still don’t really feel like I’ve settled into the rhythm of things. It’s hard work, and I work even harder, pushing myself to make sure that I’m doing the best I can. I want to succeed here, both because I need the job and because I want to prove that I can do it and do it well.
Every time Sienna sneers at me, it just makes me work that much harder, determined to not let her get the best of me. This job is important
Honestly, even almost three weeks in, I have no idea how I’m doing. There haven’t been any complaints, but there haven’t been any compliments either. I chat with some of the other admins when I can, and some of the junior developers have been friendly. Although Parker hasn’t approached me since Dominic told him off last week.
The three Alphas in charge are just as impressive and intimidating as they were when I first met them.
Dominic is gruff, and while he doesn’t outright scowl at me when we pass in the halls anymore, he hasn’t really tried to be friendly either. When I see him, I remember the way his hand was blazing with warmth and softer than I would have expected when he touched my cheek, wiping away my makeup. I remember him calling me ‘little bird’ and making something that sounded suspiciously like a joke. And then I have to wonder if I was dreaming and that never actually happened at all.
Tristan is still a mystery. He’s said exactly two more words to me in the time I’ve worked here, a curt ‘excuse me’ when he stepped around me to get on the elevator I had just exited. According to some of the other assistants, he barely speaks to anyone, so at least I know it’s not personal. Still, I find myself wondering what he’s thinking when I see him.
Then there’s Xavier. He’s still friendly and bright, often waving or smiling at me when he sees me passing by, but he still doesn’t seem to remember me from the brief past meeting we had before I worked here.
It should be a good thing, since the last thing I want is to talk about the worst day of my life in the office, but it still makes me feel oddly hurt. Like I wasn’t worth remembering.
But I try to put all of those thoughts out of my mind when I’m here.
I have to focus on the job, so I don’t mess it up and give them a reason to fire me. I have to at least get one check in the bank before I can start letting myself slip up.
It’s already been a busy day, and I feel like I’ve been running around since the moment I walked in. It’s a good thing I got those insoles for my nice work shoes, otherwise I’d have blisters on my feet from all the back and forth between floors and to and from the file room and the copy machine and the scanner.
Every time I get back to my desk, there’s another task waiting on me, another note or memo telling me to go here or there and pick this or that up.
It leaves me a bit frazzled, but I try to keep on top of it.
I’m standing at the printer, waiting for thirty pages to print when I catch sight of the three Alphas walking together, heads bent in as they have a quiet conversation on their way to the elevator bank.
They seem agitated judging from the frown on Xavier’s face and the way Dominic’s shoulders are hunched. I can’t help but watch them, grateful that they’re far enough away that their scents are muted and not overwhelming me.
Tristan happens to glance up and then over at me. There’s something heavy about it, lingering and intense. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, as usual, but that doesn’t stop my heartrate from kicking up a notch, or the way my stomach swoops slightly.
“Get it together,” I mutter under my breath once they’ve stepped into an elevator and gone off to whatever important meeting they were probably on their way to.
The last thing I need to do is get all affected by a passing glance from someone who probably never spares me a second thought.
I gather the papers up from the printer and clip them together, going off to deliver them to the office they belong in.
When I get back to my desk, one of the other admins, a short guy with curly hair and a bright smile is standing there, looking anxious. “Penelope, there you are. I just wanted to check that the Ambrose contract went out today.”
“The… Ambrose contract? Was it sent electronically?”
He shakes his head, sending his curls bouncing. “No, they insisted on a paper copy being mailed to them.” He rolls his eyes. “Because they don’t trust technology.”
“They’re working with the wrong firm then. I didn’t hear about the contract, so I’m not sure,” I tell him. “The courier should be here soon though.”
“What are you standing around here for?” Sienna demands as she walks up. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“We’re just making sure the Ambrose contract went out,” the other admin says.
“I sent it out this morning,” Sienna replies, looking smug. “I didn’t think waiting for the courier to come at midafternoon was going to get it out on time.”
“As long as it went out,” he tells her, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Sienna.”
She gives him a look that sends him scurrying back to his desk, and I turn back to my own work, trying to figure out what to do next in the pile of things waiting for my attention.
I move a stack of papers to the side, adding post it notes in different colors to each file and form and stack to prioritize them by importance. Some of the other assistants told me that once I have a better understanding of how everything works here, I’ll be able to tell which files and clients can be bumped down the list a bit and which ones need to be at the top all the time.
I can’t wait for that day. Right now everything feels urgent. Enough that I’ve been working through lunch whenever I can, just to stay on top of things.
When I get to the bottom of the stack, I find a manilla envelope already addressed and stamped, ready to go.
I frown, pulling it out, and when I read the name Ambrose Logistics on it, my heart almost stops.
This must be the infamous Ambrose contract.
The one Sienna said she sent out this morning.
The one that she must have instead put at the bottom of the stack on my desk.
Panic seizes me, but I don’t have time to freak out. This has to go out today, and if it doesn’t and it’s on my desk, I already know I’m going to be blamed for it. It’ll be Sienna’s word against mine, and I don’t want to run the risk of finding out who the bosses will believe.
I snatch up the envelope and dash down the hall.
“Has the courier left yet?” I ask, already out of breath.
One of the assistants looks up and nods. “Just headed out. You might still be able to catch him if you hurry.”
I nod my thanks and take off, ignoring the elevator and rushing down the stairs two at a time. All I can hear is the pounding of my own heart and the blood rushing in my ears as I burst out the stairwell and into the lobby.
My head is spinning, and I already feel a bit lightheaded. I should have had lunch today probably. Powering through the day on nothing more than the bagel and cup of coffee I had this morning was probably not the best idea.
But that’s one of those hindsight kind of things.
I dash through the lobby, trying to see the courier, not paying much attention to anything, until I run right into a solid mass.
The scent hits me like a brick wall, cinnamon rolls, espresso, toasted nuts. Tristan. The force of it makes me feel even dizzier than I already did, and I try to breathe through my mouth, waiting for the spell to pass.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp out. “I’m sorry. I just really need to catch the courier. I need to?—”
I push past him, stumbling out of the building and onto the street. I feel unsteady, clammy, flashing hot and cold as I go. My throat burns like I’m going to be sick, but I can see the courier in the distance, the familiar colors of his uniform standing out.
The people around me do double takes, strange looks flashing over their faces as they look at me. Maybe because I’m a sweaty mess, chasing a man down the street.
My head is spinning and it feels hard to breathe, like I can’t get enough air in or the air is too thick to go in properly. It’s like there’s a weight pushing down on me, and I stumble a little. There’s a sound in my ears, like a whistling from down a tunnel, and as I search for the courier in the people on the street, darkness rushes in instead, and I’m out cold before I even hit the pavement.