CHAPTER 5: Welcome to Dawnat

The building looked even taller the second time as she came. Like it wanted to show her it held more power than she could think of.

Penelope stood just outside the glass doors, her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag.

Today, she wore a red dress that hugged her curves exactly. She wasn't someone who usually liked to gain attention.

But Demetria had forced her to wear it.

“It would make a statement!” She repeated over and over again.

But Penny sighed, “I don't like what it's stating.”

And Demetria looked at her with a grin, “And so will Calvin.”

Demetria would have accompanied her today as well, but she had to go to her own work.

“You’ve got this, Penny!” Demetria had told her, before she stepped into the cab. “And remember – he’s just a man.”

Not just a man, Penelope thought. But she nodded nonetheless.

“Okay.”

With one last breath, she turned and stepped inside the company. Everything felt familiar when she stepped in. But at the same time, it didn't.

As she walked in, a few heads turned to her. Her face immediately reddened. Damn Demetria!

How would this help?! Luckily, she didn't stumble before she reached the receptionist’s table,

“Good morning,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Penelope Adams. I was asked to return.”

The receptionist smiled politely. “Yes, Miss Adams. You may go in.”

Just like that. No waiting? Wasn't he busy with something or someone? Ugh…

Her stomach twisted. She nodded and turned toward the hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last and her pulse kept quickening.

Her palms grew slightly damp. But this time, she didn’t stop at the door.

She knocked once, steadying her breathing.

“Come in.”

That voice, still the same. Still dangerous in ways she couldn’t explain.

Penelope pushed the door open and walked in.

Calvin Dawson was already watching her, immediately she lifted her eyes. He didn’t pretend otherwise this time, and didn't look down at any documents.

His gaze met hers the second she stepped inside. Sharp, focused and unavoidable.

“Miss Adams,” he said calmly.

Penelope swallowed, “Mr. Dawson.”

His brow lifted almost imperceptibly at the correction. Not Sir this time? Interesting.

“Take a seat,” he said.

She obeyed, lowering herself carefully into the chair across from him. Her fingers rested against her lap. And her blue eyes met his instantly.

There was no fidgeting and she looked away when his gaze turned intense.

And for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t empty. It was charged.

Like something unspoken lingered just beneath the surface, waiting for the wrong move to break free. But Penelope wouldn't dare break the silence.

Finally, “You came back.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, “You asked me to.”

“I did. Most wouldn’t.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out immediately. Who wouldn't? This was an opportunity no one wanted to miss. But then, maybe he was right. Most wouldn’t if they did miserably like her.

“I don’t quit easily,” she said finally and something flickered in his eyes.

“Good.”

He reached for her file, though his gaze barely left her.

“Let’s continue, Miss. Adams.” And she nodded. This time, the questions came differently. It was less like interrogation. It was more like observation.

“Walk me through your thought process when approaching a constrained space.”

Penelope inhaled slowly. Then began,

“I prioritize functionality first,” she said. “Then aesthetics. A space has to work before it can impress.”

He nodded, “And when those two conflict?”

Her mind moved faster this time.

“Then I find a compromise. There’s always a way to balance both, if you understand the client’s needs well enough.”

His fingers tapped lightly against the desk, “Clients don’t always know what they need.”

“That’s why we’re there,” she replied before she could second-guess herself.

There was a brief silence. Then,

“Continue.”

And she did. She spoke and explained as best as she could. He asked more questions and she delivered. She didn’t crumble like before. But, she still felt it.

That awareness. That tension coiling in her chest every time his gaze lingered too long. Every time his voice dipped slightly lower, as he stared. Every time the past brushed too close to the present.

But she pushed through it, step by step. Answer by answer. Until, he closed the file.

The sound was soft but it made Penelope’s heart skip. This was it again. The moment of judgment.

Calvin leaned back in his chair, studying her in silence. Longer than necessary, long enough to make her pulse climb again.

“You’re inconsistent,” he said finally.

Her breath caught as she stared at him wide-eyed. “I…”

“You have gaps in your knowledge. Hesitation in your delivery. And a tendency to second-guess yourself.”

She bit her cheeks. This was really hopeless.

“But,” he continued, “you have instinct.”

She blinked, slightly caught off guard.

“You see space differently. Not academically or by the book. But intuitively.”

Her lips parted slightly. “I…”

“And that,” he added, his voice quieter now, “is not something that can be taught.”

Penelope held his gaze, unsure what to say. Thank you?

“So,” he continued, straightening slightly, “we’ll do this differently.”

Her heart skipped again. Differently?

“I’m offering you a probationary position,” he said.

The words didn’t register at first.

“I – what?”

“A trial period,” he clarified. “You’ll work under supervision. You’ll learn and you will prove whether your instinct is worth the investment.”

Her breath hitched. This was…this was an offer. A real one.

“You’re… hiring me?” she asked, almost afraid to believe it.

“For now,” the faintest hint of something curved his lips, “Don’t celebrate yet.”

But it didn’t matter. Because something inside her – something that had been buried under years of rejection and doubt – lit up.

“Yes,” she said quickly, nodding. “Yes, I…I won’t disappoint you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He stood. And instinctively, so did she. The movement brought them closer and Calvin extended his hand.

“Welcome to Dawnat, Miss Adams.”

Penelope’s breath caught. Her eyes dropped briefly to his hand. Strong, steady…and familiar.

Her heart began to pound. But she couldn’t refuse. He was her boss now, it would be disrespectful.

So she reached out, and placed her hand in his. And the moment their skin touched, everything shattered.

The office disappeared, the present unraveled. And suddenly, she wasn’t here anymore.

She was there. In that room, that night. Under dim lights.

“You smell like strawberries,” his warm voice trailed across her skin and Penny shook, gulping at feeling his hands move around her naked body.

And then suddenly, he parted her legs with swift force.

A startled gasp escaped her and she tried to pull back, but he only dragged her legs closer to him.

Her cheeks flamed red, “P…please, Sir. I…I have not done this before…” she trembled.

And he cooed, “Don't worry. I'll be gentle.”

Her breath hitched sharply. Her fingers trembled in his grip. And for a split second, she forgot where she was. Who she was. All she could feel was him again. Too close to her, whispering words in her ear, leaving soft caresses across her body, making her shiver.

Calvin stilled. His grip didn’t tighten nor loosen. But his eyes sharpened slightly as he watched her.

The reaction wasn’t subtle, or the tremor, or the shift in her breathing or the way her gaze flickered, not at him, but through him.

Like she was somewhere else entirely.

Penelope pulled her hand back too quickly. As if the contact had burned her. Scratch that – it had.

“I…I'm sorry,” she breathed, her voice unsteady.

For what? She didn’t even know.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her mind scrambled to catch up with reality and the office came back into focus.

The desk, the windows. Him.

Standing right in front of her, watching her closely.

“Is there a problem, Miss Adams?” he asked. His tone was calm. But there was something underneath it now. Something sharper.

Her throat tightened. “No,” she said quickly. “No, I’m fine.”

Lie, a very obvious one.

But he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he stepped back, creating space again.

“Report on Monday,” he said, turning slightly toward his desk. “Nine A.M. sharp.”

She nodded quickly. “Yes. I will.”

Her fingers still tingled, her pulse still raced, her thoughts still tangled in memories she didn’t want to relive.

“Good.”

That was it and Penelope didn’t waste another second.

She turned and walked toward the door, her steps faster than before and her composure hanging by a thread.

Her hand gripped the handle. Then, she paused. And with a gulp to steady herself, she walked out.

The door closed behind her. And only then did she breathe.

Her hand pressed lightly against her chest.

“What was that…” she whispered.

But deep down, she knew. It wasn’t just memory or nerves.

This was something far more dangerous.

And as she looked back at the door she just walked out of, a thought passed through her mind.

Had she made a mistake coming to this company?