This isn’t Baxter Corporation. There’s no marble, no security desk, no men in tailored suits talking into headsets. Just a handwritten sign in the window and a potted plant that looks like it’s seen better days.
I breathe out and push the door open.
“Leoni,” a woman calls immediately, popping her head around a doorway. She’s wearing trainers, a floaty dress, and a smile that reaches her eyes. “Welcome to the mad house.”
She crosses the room and shakes my hand like we’re equals, not employer and employee. Her grip is warm. Normal.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
The office is small, open-plan, with mismatched desks and photos pinned to corkboards. People look up as we pass, smiling, offering genuine hellos instead of obligatory ones.
“This is Sam,” Hannah says, pointing to a guy balancing a phone between his shoulder and ear. “He lives off caffeine and sarcasm.”
“Only before noon,” he replies, grinning.
“And that’s Priya,” Hannah continues. “She keeps us all organised and stops me from signing ridiculous contracts.”
Priya waves. “Welcome to the chaos.”
I find myself smiling. Properly. My shoulders relax without me even noticing.
Hannah leads me into a small kitchen area. “We don’t do hierarchy nonsense here,” she says, filling the kettle. “If you want a coffee, make one. If you don’t, don’t. And if you ever see me hovering around your desk expecting you to fetch me lunch, please stage an intervention.”
She laughs as she lines up mugs, pouring coffee for everyone, including me.
“You own the company,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
“And yet,” she says lightly, handing me a mug, “I still know where the teaspoons live.”
We spend the morning going through systems, clients, and expectations. Everything is explained, nothing assumed. When I make a small mistake, Hannah just shrugs and tells me it’ll stick by the end of the week.
At lunchtime, she perches on the edge of my desk.
“So,” she says, casual but curious. “Your CV mentioned your last role was with the Baxter’s.”
My stomach tightens, but just for a second.
“Yes,” I say carefully. “It was…nice. But intense. Very structured. I realised it wasn’t really the right fit for me.”
She nods, like that makes perfect sense. “Not everyone thrives in that environment.”
“No,” I agree. “I didn’t.”
Hannah hesitates, then adds, “I actually read something this morning in the gossip column, not business news.” She rolls her eyes. “Apparently his engagement to Nancy Winters was called off after his father’s funeral.” My pulse stutters, but my face stays neutral. “That must be rough,” she continues thoughtfully. “Losing a parent and a relationship all at once. I can’t imagine.”
“No,” I say quietly. “I can’t either.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile, then stands. “Anyway. None of that matters here. You’re with us now.”
As she walks away, I sit back in my chair and take a sip of coffee.
It tastes better than anything I’ve had in weeks.
WARREN
“You hired a man,” Anthony says, amusement colouring his voice.
I glance up. “Hmm?”
