**The Promotion**
Everyone knows there are different ways to get a promotion. Some earn it through hard work, others by stepping on toes, and some—well, let’s just say it involves taking business trips with the right people.
News that a new director had finally been appointed to replace Peter Edwards, who’d retired—and that it wasn’t someone from inside the company—threw everyone off balance. Hopes that Evan Wilson, who’d been acting as temporary director for two weeks, would take the role were dashed. Rumours spread fast: she was young, attractive, ruthless, sleeping with someone high up—though no one dared name names. As they say, let sleeping dogs lie.
At ten in the morning, the staff gathered in the conference room to meet the new director. Dennis was the last one in. As if on cue, every head turned his way.
Standing at the front was a young woman with sleek, pulled-back hair. Her tailored suit fit like a second skin, and her sharp heels, red lipstick, and icy gaze completed the picture.
“Your name?” Her voice cut through the silence like wire snapping.
“Dennis Radcliffe,” he replied coolly, with just a hint of defiance. He gave the slightest nod—almost like he might bow. But no, he kept it professional.
“You’re late, Mr. Radcliffe. I’d just finished saying punctuality is non-negotiable. This time, I’ll let it slide. Sit down.” The steel in her tone made half the room wince.
Dennis took a seat next to his mate and colleague, George.
“She’s fuming, isn’t she?” Dennis muttered.
“Fuming? She’s a bloody robot,” George whispered back. “And she wants to turn us all into the same.”
One by one, the team introduced themselves, briefly explaining their roles. From her sharp questions, it was clear she already knew the business inside out. When it was Dennis’s turn, she suddenly thanked everyone and dismissed them.
“Well, well,” George smirked. “Don’t envy you, mate.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get back before she fires us,” Dennis shot back.
For two weeks, everyone arrived on time, drank coffee only at lunch, and smoked quickly, without enjoying it. But old habits die hard, and soon, people were late again, sneaking smoke breaks, dashing for caffeine—though no one pushed their luck.
At the end of the third week, the secretary tapped Dennis’s desk. “Jane Lawrence wants to see you in her office.”
“Sit,” Jane gestured to the chair across from her. “I’ve noticed your work. Efficient, no nonsense. Why are you still just a team member? Did you clash with my predecessor?”
“No,” Dennis frowned, unsure where this was going.
“Your department head retires next year. I think it’s time we groomed her replacement.” She studied him. He met her gaze.
“You’d handle it just as well as she does,” she continued, twisting a pen between her fingers. “There’s an exhibition in London this weekend—latest generation equipment. You’ll go, assess. I’ll expect your report. Expenses and tickets are with accounts.”
“Friday’s tomorrow,” Dennis said, caught off guard.
“I’m aware. You’ll be back Sunday. Any objections?”
He shrugged. He couldn’t exactly tell her he’d promised his son, Alfie, a trip to the fairground after two weeks of waiting. Or that his wife, Emma, would never buy the excuse of a sudden work trip. Still…
***
“Dad, you promised,” Alfie whined.
“You think I want to go? But work’s work. We’ll go next weekend. I’ll bring you back something—what do you want?”
“A Transformer!” Alfie brightened.
“Deal,” Dennis ruffled his hair.
“Why does it have to be you? Odd timing, a weekend trip,” Emma said, carefully packing his shirts.
“They schedule these things so more people can attend. The new boss asked why I’m still just a team member. Maybe this’ll lead to a promotion,” he added proudly.
“About time. Is she pretty?” Emma’s tone was casual, but the jealousy was obvious.
“Who?” He pretended not to follow.
“Your new boss.” She zipped the suitcase sharply.
“Pretty, yeah. And cold as ice. Half the office calls her a robot.”
On the plane, passengers stowed jackets and bags overhead. Dennis turned to the window. He remembered a song—something about planes like sleeping birds. He leaned back. Not a bad trade, London instead of the office.
“Mr. Radcliffe.” A familiar voice, edged with steel.
Dennis turned. Jane Lawrence was in the seat beside him.
*Interesting. Did she not trust me alone, or was this planned?*
“Relax. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, almost smiling.
Dennis didn’t laugh. She was dressed casually, stunning.
“Office gossip says you got the job through connections,” he ventured.
She ignored him, launching into a story about a near-crash she’d been in last year. Then she pretended to sleep.
At the hotel, their rooms were—predictably—next to each other. They went straight to the exhibition, where Jane knew everyone. Dennis wandered alone before heading back.
He’d just dialled Emma when a knock came.
Jane stood there, wine and chocolate in hand, dressed in casual trousers and a blouse. Without heels, she looked small, almost fragile.
“Can I come in?” She avoided looking at his half-open robe.
Dennis grabbed clothes and ducked into the bathroom. When he returned, the wine was poured. She sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him as he talked about the exhibition. Then she stood, hands on his shoulders, her chest level with his eyes…
***
Back home, Alfie sprinted to him. “Dad’s back!”
Emma’s sharp eyes missed nothing. Later, she found lipstick on his collar.
“Dennis, what is this? I *knew* it wasn’t just work!”
He mumbled excuses, but the fight exploded. For the first time, he slept on the sofa. The next day, Emma and Alfie were gone—just a note saying they’d gone to her mother’s.
***
Back at work, Jane’s voice snapped him to attention.
“Sorry. I can’t go. I promised my son the fair. Send George—he’s just as good. He’d kill for the job.”
She tapped her pen like a gavel. “You understand what refusing means?”
He left, spine prickling.
“So?” George asked later.
“I said no. Suggested you.”
George grinned. “Mate, she’s something else. You missed out.”
Six months later, George got the promotion. Dennis didn’t mind. Peace at home, his son’s smile—worth more than any job.
