She Started as Evening Receptionist, Not Knowing the Company Owner Was a Millionaire Noticing Her
An Unexpected Encounter at Artemis
The click of Penelopey Baker’s heels echoed through the empty lobby as she hurried toward the reception desk. She was already 15 minutes late for her first evening shift at Artemis Publishing. Rain had soaked through her thin jacket, leaving her blouse damp and her carefully styled hair limp.
It was a perfect first impression. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she gasped, addressing the woman behind the desk who was gathering her belongings. “The subway flooded and they shut down the line.”
The departing receptionist, Marcy, according to her name plate, looked Penelopey up and down with thinly veiled skepticism. “It’s fine. Night shifts are usually dead anyway. Just answer phones and log visitors.”
She handed over a binder with emergency numbers, protocols, and an extension directory. “The security guard makes rounds every 2 hours. Don’t leave the desk unattended for more than 5 minutes.”
Penelopey nodded, clutching the binder like a lifeline. This job was her last hope after three months of unemployment had drained her savings and tested her roommate’s patience.,
The evening receptionist position wasn’t ideal. The hours would make pursuing her illustration career difficult, but the pay was decent. Artemis Publishing was one of the most prestigious houses in the city.
“One more thing,” Marcy added, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “If Vincent Aldridge comes in, call security immediately.”
Penelopey blinked. “Wait, isn’t he the owner?”
Marcy laughed. “Yes, which is why he doesn’t need to be here at night prowling around. Man’s worth millions but can’t seem to leave work at a normal hour like everyone else. Just give him his messages and don’t engage.”
Before Penelopey could ask for clarification, Marcy was gone. She was left alone in the cavernous marble lobby with its soaring ceiling and wall of awards. She settled into the chair, arranging her meager belongings in the drawer.
She had a sketchbook, pens, a granola bar, and her phone charger. For the next 3 hours, Penelope answered exactly two calls and directed one lost delivery person.
She used the time to familiarize herself with the phone system and building layout while sketching ideas for a children’s book she’d been working on. The quiet was peaceful after months of frantic job hunting.
At 9:17 p.m., the front doors swung open. A tall figure strode in, bringing with him the smell of rain and expensive cologne. Despite the late hour, he wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit with no tie.
The top buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone. His dark hair was slightly damp, curling at the edges, and there was a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw. Penelopey’s hand instinctively went to her disheveled hair.
This had to be Vincent Aldridge. No ordinary employee would carry themselves with such confidence at this hour. She sat up straighter, remembering Marcy’s warning.
“Good evening,” she said, her voice steadier than she expected. “Can I help you?”
He stopped, seeming genuinely surprised to see someone at the desk. “You’re new.”
“Yes, sir. First night. I’m Penelopey Baker, the evening receptionist.”,
He approached the desk, and she noticed his eyes were an unusual shade of gray-blue, like storm clouds. “Vincent Aldridge. I own the place.”
Despite knowing who he was, Penelopey felt her cheeks warm under his direct gaze. “Mr. Aldridge, would you like me to call security to escort you?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Security to escort me where exactly?”
“I was told,” she faltered, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. “I’m sorry, I misunderstood the protocol.”
Vincent leaned against the counter, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Let me guess.”
“Marcy told you to call security if I showed up.”
Penelopey nodded, mortified. “It’s a running joke. She thinks I work too much.”
