Ten years later
Lita smoothed down her blouse for the third time, checking her reflection in the glass doors of Sterling & Associates. Twenty-six years old, and she'd finally made it a real job, a decent salary, and benefits. Receptionist at one of the city's most prestigious consulting firms. It wasn't everything she dreamed of, but it was a world away from that sixteen-year-old girl hustling in the market.
Her mother was stable now, living in a modest apartment that Lita could actually afford. Damian had kept his promise; he'd been there through every struggle, every setback, every small victory. They'd built something together, a partnership forged in shared hunger and determination.
Tonight, they were celebrating. Her first week on the job, her first real paycheck. She'd invited some friends from her old neighborhood, the ones who'd survived alongside her, who understood what this meant.
But as Lita sat at the reception desk, watching the parade of tailored suits and confident strides, a familiar feeling crept over her. Invisible. Despite her crisp new clothes and practiced smile, she might as well have been furniture. Executives walked past without a glance. Colleagues in the break room talked around her, not to her.
She was present, but not seen.
Some things never change, she thought bitterly, answering the phone with mechanical politeness. "Sterling & Associates, how may I direct your call?"
The afternoon dragged on in a haze of transferred calls and polite nods. Lita was counting down the minutes until five o'clock when the elevator doors opened and chaos spilled out.
This is completely unacceptable! A man in an expensive suit stormed toward the reception desk, his face red, his voice carrying across the lobby. "I was promised the Meridian conference room, and you've given it to someone else!"
Lita's supervisor, Janet, materialized beside her, her expression tight with barely concealed panic. Mr. Whitmore, I apologize for the confusion. Let me check the booking system.
I don't want to hear about your system! he snapped. I have twelve clients arriving in twenty minutes for a presentation that could make or break a multi-million dollar deal, and you're telling me I don't have a room?
Other staff members were backing away, retreating to their offices. Janet's hands shook as she fumbled with the computer. The lobby had gone silent, everyone watching the meltdown unfold.
Lita stood up.
Mr. Whitmore, she said, her voice calm but firm enough to cut through his anger. I understand your frustration. That would make anyone upset.
He turned to her, surprise flickering across his face, perhaps because she addressed him directly, or perhaps because she didn't sound afraid.
The Meridian room was double-booked due to a system error, Lita continued, already pulling up the floor plan on her screen. But the Aurora room on the fifth floor is actually larger, has better acoustics, and the afternoon light there is perfect for presentations. It's available, and I can have it set up for you in fifteen minutes.
The Aurora room? His anger wavered, confusion taking its place.
It's our best room, actually. Mr. Sterling uses it for his most important clients. She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially. Between you and me, the Meridian booking might have been a blessing in disguise. The Aurora room has the smart board system that integrates with any device. Much more impressive.
Mr. Whitmore blinked, his rage deflating like a punctured balloon. The smart board system?
I'll escort you there personally and make sure everything is perfect before your clients arrive. And she glanced at the catering schedule. I'll have refreshments sent up immediately. On the house, as an apology for the inconvenience.
She could feel Janet's shocked stare, could sense the office holding its collective breath. Lita had no authority to offer complimentary catering. But she also knew that de-escalating this situation was worth whatever minor hell she might catch from accounting later.
Mr. Whitmore's shoulders relaxed. Well. Yes. That would be… acceptable.
Wonderful. Follow me, please. Lita grabbed her tablet and came around the desk, moving with a confidence she had learned from years of navigating hostile territory.
As she led him to the elevator, she caught a glimpse of someone else who emerged from the executive suite during the commotion. Tall, dark-haired, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her monthly rent. He was standing by the glass wall of his office, watching.
Marcus Thorne, the company's youngest partner. She'd seen his photo in the employee handbook but never in person. He had a reputation brilliant, demanding, and impossible to impress.
And he was looking directly at her.
Fifteen minutes later, Lita returned to the lobby. Mr. Whitmore was happily ensconced in the Aurora room, the crisis averted. Janet had retreated to her office, probably to decide whether to fire Lita or promote her.
That was impressive.
Lita turned. Marcus Thorne stood beside the reception desk, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
Just doing my job, Mr. Thorne, she said, her heart suddenly pounding.
Marcus, please. He tilted his head, studying her. And no, that wasn't just doing your job. That was thinking on your feet, reading a difficult personality, and turning a disaster into an opportunity. Where did you learn that?
The streets, she thought. From being sixteen and responsible for keeping two people alive. From learning that survival requires both strength and strategy.
Previous customer service experience, she said aloud.
His eyes crinkled slightly, not quite a smile, but close. "I don't think I've seen you around before."
I started this week. Lita Martinez.
Lita. He said her name carefully, as if committing it to memory. Well, Lita Martinez, that was some very unexpected wit under pressure. Most people would have let Janet handle it, or worse, let Whitmore spiral until security got involved.
Someone had to do something, she said simply.
Yes. His gaze sharpened, and she had the unsettling feeling he was seeing past her receptionist's uniform to something deeper. Someone did. And you chose to be that someone.
There was a moment of silence, charged with something Lita couldn't quite name. Then Marcus nodded, as if coming to some internal decision.
I'm working on a project that could use someone with your instincts. Come by my office tomorrow at nine. Bring your resume.
Lita's mouth went dry. I… what kind of project?
The kind that requires more than just answering phones. Consider it a test. Impress me twice, and we'll talk about where else you might fit in this company.
He walked away before she could respond, leaving Lita standing at the reception desk, her carefully ordered world suddenly tilting on its axis.