A Poor Dad Delivered A Heavy Package To A CEO’s Office, Not Knowing She’d Soon Fall For Him

The Encounter at L and K Enterprises

“I swear, Penelope, if this box crushes me, tell your teacher it was the CEO’s fault,” Isaac Jenkins muttered. He adjusted the heavy cardboard box on his shoulder as he trudged through the sparkling glass doors of L and K Enterprises.

His 8-year-old daughter giggled beside him, her pigtails bouncing. “You’ll be fine, Dad. You’ve got muscles.”

He paused for a second, grinning at her with tired eyes. “You’re the only one who thinks so.”

The receptionist barely looked up when he approached the desk, her polished nails tapping across the keyboard. “Deliveries go through the loading dock.”

“I was told to bring this one directly to the top floor. A Miss Zoya Lancaster signed for it,” Isaac said, shifting the box again.

That got her attention. Following a phone call, a nod, and a beep of the elevator, Isaac and Penelope rode up to the 34th floor.

The box pressed down on his shoulder like it was filled with bricks. His worn-out jeans and scuffed boots looked painfully out of place in the sleek chrome and glass elevator.

He needed this job, and every delivery counted. When the elevator doors slid open, he was hit with a wave of cool air and the scent of expensive perfume.

The entire floor looked like it belonged in a magazine with white marble floors and gold accents. Standing at the center of it all was Zoya Lancaster.

She wore black tailored pants, sharp heels, and a sleek ponytail. She stood with her arms crossed, talking to a group of men in suits.

Isaac had never seen a woman like her in real life. She looked like she belonged on a television screen, not in the same room as a guy who drove a rattling delivery truck.

Zoya turned, her eyes flicking to him. Her gaze landed on Penelope first, then him. “Mr. Jenkins?” she asked, walking toward them.

Her voice was smooth and clipped. He nodded, setting the box down with a heavy thud. “Sorry it took a while. Traffic was insane.”

She raised an eyebrow, then looked down at Penelope. “She’s with you?” “My daughter. School’s out early. I couldn’t find a sitter.”

Zoya crouched down. “Hi, what’s your name?” Penelope stepped behind her dad’s leg, feeling shy. “Penelope, but dad calls me Penny.”

Zoya smiled, and Isaac swore the entire floor felt warmer. “Nice to meet you, Penny.”

He cleared his throat. “The package’s fragile. I didn’t want to risk it in the freight elevator.”

She stood, lifting the lid. Inside, nestled in foam, was a limited edition sculpture from a Parisian artist.

It was custom-made and worth more than Isaac’s entire apartment. “I appreciate the care,” she said, then paused. “You carried this all the way up yourself?”

“I mean, yeah. I’m used to it.” Zoya studied him. “You’re not with the usual courier service we use.”

“No,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “I work with Midtown Express, a small company. I pick up jobs where I can.”

She nodded slowly. “You own the truck?” “Kind of. Technically it belongs to Midtown, but I do all the driving and repairs too.”

She stepped closer. “Most people wouldn’t bother carrying that box up 34 floors just to protect the art.”

“I’m not most people,” he said simply. Before she could respond, Penelope tugged on his shirt. “I’m hungry.”

Zoya glanced at her watch. “Come with me.” He blinked. “What?”

“I was heading to lunch before the meeting got moved. There’s a bistro downstairs. I’ll buy you both something.”

“I didn’t come here for—” “I know,” she said. “But I’d like to thank you for the care and the honesty.”

He hesitated, but Penelope was already nodding. “Okay,” he sighed. “But nothing too fancy.”

The bistro had waiters in suits and prices that made Isaac’s stomach twist. Zoya didn’t flinch, ordering for all three of them.

“Do you always do this?” he asked halfway through lunch. “Do what? Take delivery drivers to lunch?”

She tilted her head. “Only the ones who carry valuable art up 34 floors and have adorable daughters.”

Penelope beamed, her mouth full of pasta. Isaac chuckled. “Well, thanks. This is more than I’m used to.”

She leaned in slightly. “Tell me something, Isaac. If you didn’t have to fix trucks and haul boxes, what would you do?”

He looked at her, surprised. “I used to sketch,” he said after a moment. “Architecture. Thought I’d design houses one day. Then Penny came along. Life shifted.”

Zoya’s expression softened. “You gave up a dream for her.” “I didn’t give it up,” he said. “Just put it on hold.”

She nodded. “You’re a good dad.” He looked at Penelope, who was making a mashed potato tower. “She’s my whole world.”

Zoya smiled. “I can see that.” The lunch ended with her paying the bill.

As they stood outside, she handed him a card. “If you’re ever looking for side work, we always need reliable people and artists. We commission a lot.”

He took the card, stunned. “You’re serious?” “I don’t joke about talent, Isaac.”

He looked at the name: Zoya Lancaster, CEO, LNK Enterprises. He gulped. “Thanks, Miss Lancaster.”

“Zoya,” she corrected, giving him a look that lingered. He watched her walk back into the building.

“Dad,” Penelope said, gnawing on a lollipop. “Are you going to marry her?”

He snorted. “Penny, she’s a CEO. I’m a guy with a busted truck.” She shrugged. “I like her.”