THE MAIL
1287 Words
I don't think I slept for more than two hours.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Mr. Garrett’s smug face.
Every time I open them, I refresh my inbox.
Nothing.
"But they said this morning," I mutter, staring at the screen. It is barely six o'clock.
Maybe six is too early. I toss the phone onto the mattress and drag myself into the bathroom.
By the time I finish brushing my teeth, the glorious smell of breakfast drifts through the flat.
Our place isn't anything fancy; three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and a kitchen and living room we all share. I've only been here eight months, but somewhere between late-night conversations and Ethan's cooking, it completely feels like home.
Ethan is standing over the cooker, completely focused. "Morning, Diane," he says. "Have a seat before your toast gets cold."
"Honestly, Ethan, you’d make the perfect stay-at-home dad," I smile, pulling out a chair.
Ethan works as a data analyst for an architectural firm a few times a week, but if you ask me, cooking is his real calling.
He slides a delicious plate in front of me. "There you go. Enjoy."
My phone is back in my hand before I even take two bites.
Poppy immediately snatches it away from across the table. "Girl, leave the phone alone for five minutes. Refreshing your email every time won't speed it up."
"You don't understand, my email..." I say, pulling my best sad puppy face.
Ethan takes his seat, giving me a knowing look. "I think we do understand. You told us the story three times last night."
I throw my hands up. "I still can't believe the man I poured kitchen grease on turned out to be the Project Director!"
Ethan blinks, wincing slightly. "I'll admit, that's still an unbelievable coincidence."
"Exactly!"
"Still, what you did was absolutely crazy though. But you apologized, right?" Poppy asks, sipping her coffee.
"I did. And he told me I let assumptions get in the way of professionalism."
"Oof," Ethan says.
"He just... looked at me with that impossible face of his. And then he started questioning my interview answers, too."
"The waitress thing?" Ethan guesses.
Poppy nearly laughs into her mug.
Ethan lifts both hands in surrender. "I'm just saying... operations…is a very ambitious description."
I point at him with my fork. "See? Even you think Mr. Garrett is out to get me."
Before either of them can say another word—Ping.
The three of us freeze, staring dead at the phone.
Poppy slowly reaches across the table and unlocks the screen while Ethan leans over her shoulder.
Poppy gasps. "Oh my God, Diane..."
My stomach drops into my shoes. "What?"
I grab the phone from her hands. Dear Miss Diane Ellis... Congratulations...
"I got it," I whisper, barely able to process the text.
"I actually got the job!"
"You got it!" Poppy shrieks, bouncing in her seat, and Ethan pulls me into a massive, rib-crushing hug. "I knew you would!"
My phone buzzes again. It’s an immediate follow-up email from an Ivy Wales:
Dear Miss Diane Ellis, I am the current executive secretary. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I'll be leaving earlier than expected. If you're available this afternoon, please come by the office. I'd like to walk you through your responsibilities.
"I have to go in today," I say, the panic instantly returning.
Poppy claps her hands, pointing toward my room. "Then what are you still sitting here for? Go find something to wear!"
An hour later, I stand outside the sleek glass tower of Boisnoir Building Supplies, dressed in a sky-blue pencil skirt, a fitted navy blouse, and nude heels.
I called my Mum before leaving, and she got so emotional. I don't blame her, it's literally a dream come true for both of us.
I look up at the towering skyline and tighten my grip on my handbag. I'm almost there, Dad. Just wait a little longer.
I walk inside, and the receptionist beams. "Congratulations, Miss Ellis. Mrs. Ivy Wales left your access badge. She’s waiting for you on the thirty-fifth floor."
I take the badge and head for the lifts.
Just as I approach, the small crowd waiting beside the doors suddenly scatters, quietly stepping back into the lobby as if they've all simultaneously forgotten something.
"Miss Ellis."
I turn. Mr. Garrett strides toward the lift, looking effortlessly intimidating in a sharp black suit and a deep wine-coloured tie. He presses the button, and the doors slide open. Only the two of us step inside.
The doors seal shut. I clear my throat, trying to break the heavy, awkward silence. "Good afternoon, Mr. Garrett. “
“Actually, I wanted to thank you. I got the job."
"So I heard."
"I appreciate yesterday, and I hope we can move forward professionally."
He gives a small, rigid nod.
"I'm pleased your interview was successful."
The lift dings, arriving at the thirty-fifth floor. As he steps out, he pauses without looking back.
“One small clarification, Miss Ellis. I wouldn't want you leaving with the mistaken impression that I recommended your appointment."
I blink, completely thrown. "Excuse me?"
"The panel submitted individual anonymous recommendations," his deep British accent cuts through the quiet corridor. "You were selected because the majority believed you were the strongest candidate. I simply thought the distinction was worth making."
He walks away, leaving me staring after him in disbelief.
What an unbelievably difficult man! He literally just went out of his way to tell me he voted against me. That was so unnecessary.
I channel my annoyance into focus and find Ivy Wales.
She welcomes me with a warm, apologetic smile, one hand resting on her very pregnant stomach.
"I'm so sorry to rush this handover," Ivy says, guiding me to a chair. "My husband and I are relocating to Vancouver earlier than planned for our twins.
“Now, before we get started, there's one thing you must understand. You're not just the company's secretary, you're the President's personal secretary. Your schedule revolves entirely around his. You'll travel with him, attend meetings, and coordinate his calendar."
She slides a thick, organized folder across the desk.
"The President values one thing above all else:
Time. Stay organized, stay prepared, and never let a mistake reach his desk if you can catch it first.
“Lastly, don’t let his professional exterior intimidate you. Once you understand how he works, he's actually quite easy to get along with."
Ivy stands up and smiles. "Come on. Let’s go meet him."
My nerves come roaring back as I follow her into another private executive corridor. Ivy knocks gently on a massive set of double doors.
"Sir? Your new secretary is here."
"Send her in," a deep, chillingly familiar voice calls out.
"I'll grab his coffee," Ivy whispers, patting my shoulder before walking away.
I take one slow, stabilizing breath, push the heavy doors open, and step into the massive office. A man stands with his back to me, his tall silhouette framed against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire skyline of Manchester.
As the sound of my heels clicks against the floor, he slowly turns around, adjusting the cuffs of his sharp black suit.
Standing behind the President's desk is the last person I ever expected to see.
My heart stutters.
“You.“
"What are you doing here? " I whisper.
- Writer
