Phoenix
Olivia walked into the office, offering the security guard a slight nod before striding past the lifts towards the stairs. She always took the stairs to the fifth floor. Three times a week, she hit the gym—when time allowed. Even her flat on the fifteenth floor was often conquered on foot when she had energy left at the end of the day.
The sharp tap of her heels against the polished marble of the lobby soon faded as she disappeared into the stairwell, as if she’d simply floated upwards. Behind her back, they called her a witch, an ice queen, a corporate princess. At thirty-six, she could still pass for a woman ten years younger. Only her eyes gave away the truth—sharp, assessing, the eyes of a woman who had been through things. Her business attire was impeccable, her makeup expertly applied to highlight her natural elegance.
“Who was that?” a young man asked the security guard, who gave him a measured once-over.
“Managing director of Phoenix Auditing,” the overweight, middle-aged guard said with respect.
The woman had long since left, but her perfume still lingered in the air.
“Not married?” the young man pressed, skimming the business centre’s directory for Phoenix’s office.
“What’s your business here, son?” The guard eyed him with suspicion now.
“I’ve got an interview at Norton.”
“Name?” The guard was already dialling an internal number.
The young man gave it.
“Go ahead. Seventh floor, office 717.”
James headed for the lifts, aware of the guard’s lingering gaze. He noted that Phoenix was on the fifth floor. So, after riding to the seventh, he doubled back down the stairs. The bold red lettering above the glass doors—*Phoenix Auditing*—marked his destination. Inside, a young receptionist greeted him with a practised smile.
“Good morning. How may I help you?”
“Is the director in?” James asked, as if he frequented the place.
“Yes. Do you have an appointment?” She flipped open a ledger.
“Well, no. I was hoping to speak to her.”
“I’m afraid she doesn’t take unscheduled meetings. Would you like to book a slot?” She picked up a pen, still smiling.
Just then, the sound of heels echoed down the corridor, and James saw the striking woman approaching. His posture sharpened, like a predator catching sight of prey.
“Olivia, this gentleman was hoping to see you without an appointment,” the receptionist said.
“I was actually here for an interview at Norton,” James admitted, flashing a boyish, slightly sheepish grin. “Thought I’d try my luck with you instead.”
Olivia’s gaze flicked over him, quick and assessing.
“You have a finance background?” Her voice was low, measured.
“No, law,” he said, layering his smile with charm.
“Fine. I’ll hear you out. Come with me.” She turned on her heel, leading the way.
He followed, taking in the sleek figure in the grey blazer and knee-length pencil skirt, the legs made even longer by stilettos, the scent of expensive perfume.
“Emily, hold my calls for ten minutes,” Olivia instructed another secretary before pushing open an oak door. “Come in.”
The thick carpet muffled their footsteps as she took her seat at the head of the polished conference table, gesturing for him to sit.
“What position are you applying for?”
“I don’t know,” James admitted with an apologetic smile.
“Then perhaps you should return to Norton,” she said coolly.
“Honestly? I’ve never worked in auditing. But I need a job, I learn fast. Give me a chance. I’d like to try.”
Olivia studied him again.
“We have a senior employee retiring. He’ll train you over the next two weeks. Full salary kicks in after a two-month probation—if you last. Agreed?”
“Absolutely. You won’t regret it.” James beamed.
“Brought your documents?”
“Yes.” He reached into his folder.
Olivia waved him off. “HR will take them. Emily will show you the way. Be warned—security runs thorough checks. No questions? See you tomorrow.”
She turned back to her papers, the dismissal clear.
James left, feeling the weight of her stare on his back.
“Tough one,” he muttered to Emily as the door closed.
The secretary didn’t smile. “Well-trained,” he thought.
He counted himself lucky. Landed a job straight off, and the boss was a knockout. *Just take it slow. Don’t spook her.* He followed Emily through the maze of corridors.
“Why’d you leave your last job?” the HR woman asked, flipping through his records.
“My sister called me to London. Saw your company. Liked the name.”
No point admitting he’d charmed his last boss’s daughter into a mess back in Manchester. The girl got pregnant, and he’d barely escaped her father’s wrath.
The woman slid him a template and a blank sheet. As he filled it out, James wondered about Olivia. *Young for a director. Must’ve had help from someone influential.*
He wasn’t far off. Olivia had grown up in a small industrial town, skies choked by factory smoke. Her mother worked there twenty years before the fumes took her lungs, dying just before Olivia finished school. With nothing left, she’d fled to London.
Then came Daniel, an older student at her university. He’d taken her under his wing—until she got pregnant. He vanished. An abortion followed. *Too young*, she’d told herself. There’d be other chances. But there weren’t.
After that, men became background noise. Until the owner of Phoenix Auditing—twenty-two years her senior—proposed. She’d said yes, though she didn’t love him. She could wait. And after a decade, when he died, the company was hers.
Two weeks later, the office threw a farewell for its longest-serving employee. Olivia gave a speech, handed over an envelope of cash and a holiday voucher to the Maldives. Then came the buffet, the dancing.
She was heading out when James caught her wrist.
“Dance with me?”
Without waiting, he swept her into the crowd, spinning her with confidence. As the music faded, he dipped her low, their eyes locked. The room burst into applause.
He pulled her up. Her hair was mussed, cheeks flushed. For once, her gaze wasn’t icy. Something flickered there. She adjusted her blazer and left without a word.
James hesitated. *Don’t rush.*
After that, he avoided her. Feigned focus when she passed. It worked—soon, Emily came to fetch him.
“You’ve impressed the team,” Olivia said, voice even. “Probation ends tomorrow. You’re staying.”
He thanked her calmly and left. A week later, he “bumped” into her outside, holding open his car door.
“Your driver’s late. Let me drive you.”
She hesitated, then got in.
At her doorstep, he walked her to the lift, half-expecting her to shut him out. She didn’t.
The silent ascent to the fifteenth floor made his pulse roar. The flat was immaculate, sterile—a place to sleep, not live.
In the kitchen, the coffee machine hummed. They drank in quiet small talk before he pulled her into a kiss.
She woke the next morning to find him dressed, coffee in hand.
“Thought you might want this.”
No lingering kisses, no awkwardness. Just a man who’d already showered and left. No stale breath, no fumbling.
By the time her driver arrived, she was smiling.
At the office, she greeted the guard—who blinked in shock. James kept his distance, which only stoked her frustration. Only at night did the ice thaw.
Two months later, Olivia collapsed at work. Emily called an ambulance.
At the hospital, the doctor congratulated her.
“Pregnant. Given your age, I’d recommend rest.”
She couldn’t believe it. *A child?*
James didn’t answer her calls. That evening, she slipped out, took a taxi home—and heard laughter.
Peering into the kitchen, she saw James in nothing but her strawberry-printed apron. Emily, in his shirt, giggled at the breakfast bar.
Her heart split. He’d used her—job, money, home. And the minute she was gone, he’d brought *Emily* here.
She wanted to scream, to throw them out. But the doctor’s warning echoed. *The baby.*
Quietly, she left.
The next morning, the office buzzed with gossip—the boss was absent.
When Olivia walked in, Emily froze mid-laugh, James stiffening.
“They said you were out today. Emily’s been… mistake-prone,” he tried.
Olivia opened her office door. “Emily. Now.”
Inside, she dictated, voice steel.
“Termination notice for James Carter. Voluntary departure, effective today. Promote Antonia Gleeson in his place.”
James barged in.
“You’re firing me? Why?”
“You ignored my calls. I came home early.” Her voice cracked. “I saw. Wasn’t I enough?”
Emily trembled.
“You’She turned back to her daughter’s cot, knowing that no man would ever again hold power over her heart or her happiness.
