Chapter 7
London
I’m going to poison this arrogant jerk. Slip something in his coffee, push him out the window—I don’t care how, but he has to go. I didn’t work three years to hand everything over to his son.
With fresh coffee in hand, I walk into Mr. Blackthorn Senior’s office.
“Sir? May I ask you something?”
“Is this about your probation period, Miss Waverley?”
“Honestly, yes. I’m afraid your son isn’t exactly fond of me and…”
“May I be frank with you, Miss Waverley?” he interrupts, taking a sip.
“Of course, Sir.” I stay standing by his desk, hoping he’ll give me some reassurance.
“If he were to fire you, it would be the stupidest decision he could ever make.”
“I’m honored you’d say that.” But…
“But?” He reads my thoughts.
“I love my job, and I’ll miss you as my boss, if I may say so. You’re very hard to replace.”
“I’ve noticed the tension between you and my son. He wanted to stay in New York, but I summoned him here. He’s not happy about it and is probably just having a bad day. If you prove what you can do and support him, he’ll realize he can’t fire you.”
“So you’re gambling with me?”
“You’re the ace up my sleeve.” He smiles confidently and slides a letter across the desk. I reach for it, but he holds it down with his hand, making me pull back. I notice the red wax seal.
“I’ve prepared a document. In your favor.”
“May I read it?”
“No, not yet. It may only be opened in the event of your termination.”
“Is this my severance package?”
“Indeed. The amount I’ve listed should compensate you significantly.”
“I’d prefer to work for my money.”
“I’ll leave this letter with our notary. If my son offers you a permanent position, it becomes void.”
"That would definitely be my preference," I admit.
“You’re too honest for this world.” He smiles briefly, then adds: “If he gives you trouble, get him some nut chocolate. He loves it more than anything.” A valuable tip.
“I’ll remember that.” I nod and add, “I’ll show your son around the company now and walk him through everything important so he’s ready to take over Monday. I’ll plan the adjustments for the summer party in honor of your departure later this afternoon.”
“Very good.” He turns back to his screen, and I leave the office.
Now the real question: how am I supposed to pull off new plans in four days without even knowing what he wants? He’s relying on me, but what if I choose wrong—too silly, too loud, or not pompous enough? Too boring? Too action-packed?
Unfortunately, there's only one person who could help me here, and that's his son. I hate that I’m dependent on this jerk.
Back at my desk, I take a moment to breathe and drink something.
Me: S.O.S.! My boss retires Friday, and his son’s taking over! My contract expires, and I need a new one that comes with probation! I just spoke with Alex—he made it clear I won’t survive the four weeks!
Nessa: What? Is that even legal?
Me: I signed it like that back then. Fuck. I thought Mr. Blackthorn would be here forever, and his successor would be department heads, a shareholder, or someone from the board. Maybe even an external manager. That would’ve been easy. But this? Alex hates me!
Nessa: Is there anything I can do?
Me: No… unfortunately not. I have to show this idiot around and somehow get on his good side, so he’ll keep me on. I don’t want a new job—even if the severance is generous. I love it here.
Nessa: Hang in there. Please let me know if anything happens, okay?
I sigh, hide my phone in my handbag, and take it with me back to the luxury lounge where Alexander is waiting. I knock, deciding to grovel. He doesn’t need to know I’m just putting on a show. The main thing is I don’t lose my job.
When he calls me in, I open the door. He rises and comes toward me, but I close the door and stay by it, taking the chance to be alone with him. He watches me skeptically.
“I want to be honest,” I begin my lie, silently thanking Mrs. Smith for forcing me into theater class back in school.
For almost two years I was on school stages—sometimes a raven, sometimes an impatient princess, once a saleswoman throwing a head of lettuce.
“I haven’t behaved particularly well toward you, Alexander.
” Addressing him informally feels so wrong.
He lifts his head slightly, observing me without expression. A man like him is surely used to submission. Maybe this will please him. Maybe I still have a chance.
“I assume this is going to be an apology?”
“Indeed.” I clear my throat, trying to act like this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. “I can be a little hot-headed sometimes. Unfortunately, that gets me into trouble now and then, but I’m working on it.”
He nods once, taking a few steps without breaking eye contact.
“I know you’re not going to keep me on,” I add, “and I accept the severance package.”
“Is that so?” His tone is skeptical.
“It would be for the best. We didn’t exactly get off to a great start, and I think the trust between us has already been damaged.
You need a PA you don’t automatically suspect.
Still, I’ll give my all and support you until my very last day.
This company means a lot to me—not just the business, but especially the people.
I want to leave with dignity.” I smile and step closer, offering my hand in reconciliation. “So, do we have a deal?”
“Which is?” he asks.
“Pleasant weeks until my departure. I’ll do my best, and you’ll treat me with respect.”
Alexander hesitates, then finally takes my hand.
A tingling sensation rushes through me, making me shiver.
His grip is warm, firm, and the scent of his cologne throwing me off balance.
Why does my body react so strongly to this man?
He looks at me, and I have the sudden urge to glance at his lips.
Just briefly. Just for a tiny moment. Then I look back into his eyes.
“Deal,” he says with a smile, and we let go.
“Okay. So, this is the luxury lounge. The most beautiful room in the entire company. We host very special guests here—wealthy clients, close friends of the family. The room is heavily soundproof. If you want someone outside to hear you, you have to raise your voice," I explain in an almost friendly manner as I walk to the cabinets. “There’s also a hidden bar. Your father takes pride in his collection of fine spirits, and guests love to sample them. We stock wine, vodka, and other drinks—always with at least two spare bottles in the cellar. If anything runs out, it’s reordered immediately. Only your father, security, and I have keys to the storage room. And every time the lock is opened, it’s recorded. I’ll show you that later.”
“Why all the security?” he asks.
“Because this bottle of wine alone costs sixty thousand pounds.”
“I see.” He steps closer, takes the bottle from me, examines it, and sets it back. “I need an office.” He scans the room. “This will do.”
Will do?!
“But this is—”
“It was. You’ll redesign it as my office.”
“Of course. Gladly.”
Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, clearly. I take a deep inconspicuous breath and show him the rest of the room’s features: the air conditioning, the snack bar, the dimmable lights.
“Would you like me to introduce you to all the employees or just the department heads? I can arrange meetings in each office.”
“Just the department heads and the key people who should know me.”
I nod and begin our tour.
The most important offices are on the top floor—his father’s, of course, along with the department heads. They rarely work from them, but they’re there. The floor also has multiple conference rooms equipped for video conferences.
On floors one through seven, the various departments are located: customer service, sales, development, and more. Alexander shakes a lot of hands while department heads explain things. Every now and then I quietly feed him names and titles as we go.
“This is his deputy, Miss Carlson,” I explain, for example, when she is visiting her colleagues to show off her newborn. “She had a daughter, Marie, four weeks ago. She’ll be on leave until next year.”
“Miss Carlson, a pleasure to meet you,” Alexander greets her, glancing at the baby. “What a sweet girl.” In her little green outfit, the baby could easily have been mistaken for a boy. I’ve just saved him from a potential faux pas.
On the ground floor, we stop at the training rooms, the reception, the kitchen, and a large cafeteria.
I point out the fitness studio. “Employees can use it for free.” Then the massage practice.
We can treat four people at once. “This boosts morale and also helps prevent back problems. Very important to your father.”
We even have a first aid station for minor injuries.
“We get accidents treated here, Mostly burns from hot coffee or nausea. Pregnant women also come here when they feel unwell.” The daycare is also there.
“Two facilities—one for babies and toddlers up to three, another for kids up to ten. They stay here after school—we got teachers and childcare workers on staff who can help with homework or just play.”
“Pets, too?” he wonders.
“Yes. A lot of employees bring their dogs so they’re not home alone all day. Staff plays with them, feeds them food specified by their owners, and walks them.”
“My father never mentioned any of this.” Alexander lingers at the glass, watching the dogs.
“Many colleagues spend their lunch breaks visiting their pets,” I explain, then gesture toward the stairwell. “Now we just have the basement and parking garage left.”
He follows to the stairwell silently, while I go on, “From the start, your father wanted employees to be able to focus fully on their jobs. If a child is sick, one parent usually stays home or gets sick too. Parents don’t get the chance to rest then come to work sick.
He wanted to prevent that. So contracts here include more sick days than the law requires—with full pay, of course. ”
“And people don’t abuse it?” he asks.