CHAPTER 8: Burning Spark

Calvin’s speech was short and devoid of warmth. He spoke of "restructuring," "unprecedented growth," and "weeding out the stagnant."

A very stark warning.

Penelope didn't hear a word of it. She was too busy calculating the fastest route to the emergency exit. Could she quit today? Could she claim a family emergency and never come back? But her mother's rent was due, and Shirley needed new shoes for school, and this job paid three times more than what her last jobs all combined had offered.

"Now," Calvin said, his tone shifting. "I’d like to meet the new faces of the design team. Step forward."

A wave of panic surged through her. One by one, the new hires stepped into the light. Penelope moved like a robot, her legs heavy as lead. She stayed as far to the left as possible, keeping her chin tucked.

Calvin began to walk the line. He shook hands with a few seniors, his movements efficient. He didn't smile, because he didn't need to. He was perfectly handsome already stoic.

As he approached her section, Penelope squeezed her eyes shut for a micro-second, praying for invisibility.

"Introduce yourself.”

The voice was closer now. Much closer and Penelope forced herself to look up. She had to. To look away would be suspicious and to look down would be too meek.

She met his eyes. They were the color of dark amber, the exact shade Shirley saw when she looked in the mirror every morning.

For a heartbeat, the office vanished. The noise of the city, the murmurs of the staff, the hum of the air conditioning, it all died away. There was only the scent of him and the weight of a secret that felt like an anvil in her chest.

Calvin’s eyes narrowed. His hand, which had been extended to her, paused in mid-air. The sharp, analytical light in his gaze flickered, replaced by something dark and unreadable. A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth, also feeling the spark.

The silence stretched. Five seconds, then ten and everyone began to stare. What was happening?

"Penelope Adams, sir," she whispered. Her voice was steady, a miracle of sheer will. "Junior Interior Designer."

Calvin didn't take her hand. He just stared at her, his gaze traveling from her eyes to the pulse points in her neck, which were jumping visibly.

"Hm," he hummed, then locked eyes back at her.

The woman next to him, a sharp-featured blonde in a white power suit, cleared her throat. "Calvin? We’re behind schedule for the board meeting."

Calvin didn't break eye contact for another three seconds. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Welcome to the firm, Ms. Adams," he said. His voice was like silk over steel. "I have a feeling your work will be... enlightening."

He turned on his heel and walked away, his entourage trailing behind him.

Penelope stood frozen, her lungs finally burning for air.

W-what had just happened?

But Penelope knew this erratic atmosphere around them wouldn't end soon.

Days passed and Penelope continued showing up for work. Sometimes, Demetria packed lunch for her and she couldn't more grateful. Although food in the cafeteria was quite cheap, she couldn't still afford a good meal. Crap.

So sometimes, she skipped lunch entirely.

Today, the design team she had fallen under, had called it's teammates for an Evaluation.

The air in the design department was thick with the scent of expensive toner and the hushed, frantic clicking of keyboards.

Penelope kept her head down, staring at the floor plans for a suburban townhouse, but the lines blurred into a mess of gray ink.

She just had to make it through three months and if she could stay invisible, she could find a way to resign without raising red flags.

"Penelope Adams?"

She jumped, her mouse skittering across the pad. Joakim, the Creative Director of her team was leaning over her cubicle wall, his expression a mix of awe and suspicion.

"Yes?" she managed, her voice barely audible.

"The boss called for you.”

Penelope’s heart did a slow, painful roll in her chest. "Called? Is there a problem with my onboarding paperwork?"

"Quite the opposite," Joakim said, tapping a digital tablet. "The CEO just sent down a directive. He’s dissatisfied with the current concepts for the Executive Suite redesign. He went through the new hire portfolios this morning and personally selected yours to discuss about the project."

The blood drained from Penelope's face. He chose her? Out of all people?

"There must be a mistake," she stammered, standing up so quickly her chair hit the partition with a dull thud. "I’m a junior designer. I specialize in residential comfort, not... not billionaire bunkers. And it's just a week since I started working. Victoria Vane is the lead on that, isn't she?"

Victoria Vane was the blonde woman who had been standing beside Calvin on the staff meeting day.

Joakim shrugged, already looking bored. "Victoria is livid, if that’s what you’re asking. But Dawson doesn't ask twice. He wants the person responsible for the 'warmth and structural integrity' shown in your portfolio. That’s you, Adams. So, don't keep Boss waiting.”

Penelope felt like the walls were closing in. What the hell was Calvin thinking?!

As she gathered her charcoal pencils and her leather-bound sketchbook, her hands shook.

“Why me?” The question echoed in her mind.

Was it a coincidence? Had he truly looked at a dozen portfolios and found hers the most "warm"? Or was this a cat playing with a mouse? Definitely the latter.

She followed Joakim toward the executive elevators, the ones that required a special keycard. The doors were mirrored, polished to a high silver sheen. As the elevator began its silent, gravity-defying ascent, Penelope caught her reflection.

She looked professional. Her hair was arranged neatly. Her blouse was buttoned to the throat. Her skirt passed her knee as well. Very very professional.

The elevator chimed—a soft, melodic sound that felt like a death knell.

The doors slid open to reveal a lobby of white marble and floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the sprawling skyline of Birmingham. But Penelope didn't look at the view. Her eyes went straight to the heavy, dark oak doors at the end of the hall.

Calvin’s office. But this wasn't the office he had used for her interview. He had two offices?

"He’s waiting," Joakim whispered, giving her a small, sympathetic shove. "Good luck, Penelope. You’re going to need it."

Okay, that wasn't helping!

She took a step forward, her heels clicking against the marble like a countdown.

And just as she got to the door, she raised her hand and knocked, with her heart in her throat.