The Receptionist

Juniper Keys stood behind the reception desk of CreaTOAD Ltd., fidgeting with the hem of her company-issued blazer. She adjusted it like she might adjust her armor—if only armor came in gray poly-blend. At 22, she was the youngest employee in the building, still fresh out of college and grappling with the art of adulthood. Her perfectly straightened ponytail and carefully pressed uniform screamed “put together,” but deep down, she felt more like a kid playing dress-up.

The lobby of CreaTOAD Ltd was a world unto itself—marble floors gleaming under pendant lights, a massive, living wall of greenery that probably had its own budget line, and the constant backdrop of clacking heels, ringing phones, and muted chatter. To an outsider, the scene might appear sophisticated, even serene, but Juniper knew better. It was a place of controlled chaos, and her job as receptionist often made her the buffer between that chaos and the people who expected it to run flawlessly.

Most days were predictable. A corporate tango of greetings, directing visitors, and occasionally soothing tempers. But there were moments—like now—that added some spice.

The glass doors slid open with a faint hiss, revealing a harried delivery driver pushing a cart piled so high with packages it teetered on the brink of disaster. His red face and disheveled uniform told Juniper all she needed to know.

“Let me guess,” she called out, her voice light and teasing, “freight elevator’s out again?”

The courier glanced up, pausing long enough to shoot her a sheepish grin. “And here I thought I could sneak past without the commentary.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, leaning on the counter. “You know I live for these moments. Office Olympics? You’re winning gold in the box-stacking relay.”

“Gold medal? I’ll take it,” he said with a chuckle, carefully adjusting the precarious stack. “Just get the airlift ready for next time.”

“Consider it done,” she replied, giving him a wink as he trundled off, leaving a trail of heavy sighs and the whine of wobbling wheels behind him.

Moments like that kept her sane. Juniper had a knack for injecting levity into the mundane, a skill she leaned on often. Still, she knew better than to let people get too close. Her role in the office ecosystem was clear: friendly, approachable, but always professional. Lines were drawn and maintained with almost mathematical precision.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, snapping her back to the moment. She glanced down to see the message:

Don’t forget—dinner with my parents tonight. They’re excited to see you.

Michael. Her boyfriend. Her safe haven. Her… constant.

Juniper sighed and typed back a quick reply: Got it. Looking forward to it.

Michael had been in her life for so long, their relationship felt more like a warm quilt than a roaring fire. They’d met in middle school, bonded over a shared love of bad 90s sitcoms, and just never let go of each other. He was the kind of person you could count on, who never let you fall too far.

And yet, her best friend’s voice echoed in her mind: “Stability’s great, but don’t you want to feel something?”

Juniper had laughed when Lydia said it—brushed it off with a joke about romance novels and cheesy movies. But Lydia’s words lingered, creeping into moments of stillness like a shadow.

The soft whoosh of the lobby doors drew her gaze. Nathaniel Toad, the CEO and founder of CreaTOAD, walked in with the unhurried authority of someone who had long since conquered his kingdom.

Juniper straightened automatically, pulling her professional smile into place. “Good morning, Mr. Toad,” she said, her tone crisp and perfectly calibrated.

“Good morning, Ms. Keys,” he replied with a nod, his voice deep and deliberate.

Nathaniel Toad was a man who commanded attention simply by existing. At 48, his broad shoulders and tall frame filled every room he entered. His tailored suit was a master class in subtle power dressing, and his shaved head and salt-and-pepper beard framed a face that rarely betrayed what he was thinking.

Juniper watched him stride past, the faint scent of woodsy cologne trailing behind. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt it—the strange, almost electric pull of his presence. Not fear, not exactly. It was more like… awareness.

He disappeared into the elevator, and Juniper exhaled, trying to push the moment away.

Just the boss. Just another day.

But as the elevator doors closed, she couldn’t help but feel the faint buzz of nervous energy lingering in his wake.

---

A few days later, a message from the executive assistant summoned Juniper to the 25th floor. She was to deliver a file directly to Mr. Toad.

She grabbed the folder, her heels clicking softly on the polished floors as she rode the elevator up. The executive suite was quiet, almost eerily so, compared to the lively lobby. The air smelled faintly of citrus and leather, and everything from the sleek furniture to the thick carpeting screamed exclusivity.

Her knuckles rapped lightly on his office door.

“Come in,” his voice called.

Juniper stepped inside, holding the folder like a shield. “I was asked to deliver this,” she said, her tone measured.

Mr. Toad rose from his chair, walking around the desk to meet her. His steps were deliberate, unhurried.

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the folder. The contact was fleeting, but her breath hitched all the same.

“You’re settling in well,” he said, his tone conversational yet... something more.

Juniper nodded, keeping her smile in place. “I am. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

“Good.” His gaze held hers, steady but unreadable. “I’d hate for someone as capable as you to feel overlooked.”

His words lingered, heavy with implication she couldn’t quite decipher. Before she could respond, he stepped closer—too close—to place the folder on a side table. The faint scent of his cologne, sharp and woodsy, washed over her.

“I’ll need you to follow up on this with Diane in HR,” he said, his voice low.

Juniper nodded quickly. “Of course. I’ll take care of it right away.”

“Good,” he said again, stepping back at last.

She left his office with her composure intact, but the interaction replayed in her mind all the way back to her desk. The subtle brush of his fingers, the proximity, the weight of his words. Were they meaningless gestures, or had she missed something deeper?

---

When Mr. Toad stopped by her desk a few mornings later, Juniper felt her pulse spike.

“Ms. Keys,” he said, his tone calm but firm, “do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” she replied, setting aside the mail she’d been sorting.

“I’ve been impressed with your work,” he said, his dark eyes steady. “You’re efficient, professional, and you have a way with people. It’s rare.”

Juniper blinked. Compliments from coworkers were one thing, but from the CEO? It felt... different.

“Thank you, Mr. Toad,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

“I think you’d be an excellent fit for a position on the executive floor,” he continued. “It’s a step up—managing schedules, handling clients, working closely with leadership.”

The executive floor. Her chest tightened. That world felt so far removed from the lively chaos of the lobby.

“I’d be honored,” she said, her voice careful.

“Good,” he said with a small nod. “You’ll start Monday. HR will send you the details.”

As he walked away, Juniper stared after him, her thoughts spinning. A promotion was exciting—validation of her hard work—but the prospect of working so closely with Mr. Toad made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Monday arrived too quickly. The executive suite on the 25th floor was pristine, with plush carpets and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the space in natural light. Her new desk sat just outside Mr. Toad’s office, a position that demanded poise and precision.

The first few days passed in a blur, but Juniper couldn’t shake the awareness of his presence. Their interactions remained professional, but there were moments—fleeting, subtle—when his gaze lingered or his tone softened.

One afternoon, while filing reports, Juniper overheard Emily, a sales rep, chatting with a colleague near the break room.

“So, you and Greg,” Emily teased. “How’s that going?”

Her colleague giggled. “Let’s just say he’s the only reason I don’t hate late-night emails.”

Emily laughed. “Honestly, if a guy brought me coffee during a deadline, I’d propose on the spot.”

Juniper smiled faintly at the exchange, but it stayed with her. She thought of Michael—how their relationship was steady, reliable, and devoid of surprises. For the first time, she wondered if she was missing something—or if this was simply how her life was meant to be.

---

Juniper had always believed that life happened in phases, and right now, she was in the 'head down, climb the ladder' phase. The 25th floor of CreaTOAD Ltd., with its floor-to-ceiling windows and open-plan minimalism, was her personal battleground. Outside, the city pulsed and roared; inside, it was hushed, a quiet temple to ambition. Her desk sat like a front-line barricade outside Mr. Nathaniel Toad’s office, a place where she greeted guests, handled schedules, and made herself indispensable without ever asking to be noticed.

Her chestnut ponytail was smooth and deliberate—like her. No frizz, no stray hairs, no hesitation. And as she offered a perfectly calibrated smile to a client stepping off the elevator, Juniper felt that small, secret thrill of control. Everything in this space moved because she made it move.

“Good morning, welcome to the executive suite. How can I assist you today?” she asked, the warmth in her voice deliberate, but not cloying.

The client gave a quick nod, muttered something about Mr. Toad’s schedule, and moved past her, leaving a faint whiff of expensive cologne. Juniper’s fingers danced over her keyboard as she pulled up the day’s itinerary, but her thoughts were only half on her work. The other half… lingered elsewhere.

Mr. Toad had passed her desk earlier that morning, his strides precise and unhurried. He was a man you noticed even if you didn’t want to. Balding but impeccably groomed, his salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed, framing a mouth that rarely smiled but often tightened in thought. He carried himself like a storm that had decided to stay calm for the day.

Juniper had spent months learning his cues: the slight furrow in his brow when he was unimpressed, the way he drummed his fingers when he was lost in thought. What she couldn’t figure out, though, was how he could make a person feel like the only one in the room, even when he wasn’t looking at them.

She hated how aware of him she was.

It wasn’t attraction—at least, not exactly. It was curiosity. Fascination. A gnawing, inexplicable sense that there was more to him than the layers of power and precision he wore like armor.

Not that she’d ever admit that.

“Juniper?”

She looked up to see Ryan from Marketing hovering nearby, his grin sheepish and his tie slightly askew. “Do you have the Jefferson report? Mr. Toad’s got me presenting it at 3, and I need to…”

“It’s printing now,” Juniper said crisply, already sliding a folder across her desk. “You’ll want the updated figures on page seven.”

Ryan exhaled in relief. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Juniper only smiled, a small, practiced expression that conveyed professionalism without warmth. As Ryan walked away, she glanced at the clock. The morning was slipping by, the steady tick of her tasks blurring into a rhythm she knew too well. She needed a break—something to break up the monotony of the day.

In the break room, the city stretched out before her, sprawling and infinite. She leaned against the counter, the warmth of her coffee seeping into her palms, and let her mind wander.

Her phone buzzed, and she didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softening as Michael’s voice came through the line.

Michael was her opposite in every way. While she thrived on structure, he floated through life with an easy grace. He taught history at a nearby high school and had a way of turning even the driest facts into something alive. Listening to him was like standing in sunlight—warm and steady.

“You’re not overworking yourself, are you?” he teased.

“Of course not,” she lied, the tension in her shoulders easing just from hearing him.

Michael talked about his students, a story about a kid who’d managed to mix up the Declaration of Independence with the Magna Carta, and Juniper laughed in spite of herself. It was easy with him. Easy and safe.

But as she ended the call and slid her phone back into her pocket, the sense of ease faded. Something about Michael felt far away, like a memory she was trying to keep fresh by sheer **** of will. She shook her head. It was just the stress of work, the constant grind. That was all.

The door creaked open behind her, heels clicking against the tile floor. She glanced back to see Sarah from HR and Emily from Sales sweeping in, their voices lively and full of conspiratorial energy.

“Oh my God,” Emily was saying, her voice lilting with excitement. “You will not believe the night I had.”

“Good or bad?” Sarah asked, reaching for a mug.

“Good,” Emily said, practically glowing as she leaned against the counter. “No, scratch that—great. Excellent, even. I haven’t been this satisfied in…” She paused, tapping her chin in mock thought. “God, I don’t even know. Months? Years?”

Sarah raised a brow. “Do tell.”

Emily grinned, clearly relishing the attention. “Met this guy on one of those apps—you know, the ones you make fun of me for? Anyway, tall, gorgeous, actually knows how to carry a conversation. And the sex?” She exhaled dramatically, fanning herself. “Chef’s kiss.”

Juniper blinked, half-**** on her coffee. “Is this… appropriate workplace conversation?”

“Oh, come on,” Emily said, laughing. “Like you’ve never had a great night worth bragging about.”

Juniper didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on the swirl of her coffee.

“Meanwhile,” Emily continued, undeterred, “you know who else probably hasn’t had a great night in years? Michael from accounting. That man just screams missionary-in-the-dark, doesn’t he?”

“Emily!” Sarah said, though she was laughing.

“What? I’m just saying,” Emily said with a shrug. “Life’s too short for bad sex. Or boring sex. Or no sex.”

Juniper flushed, the casual mention of the same name as her fiancé’s striking a nerve. She took another sip of coffee, wishing she could melt into the background.

“Oh, speaking of things that scream ‘no sex,’” Emily said, switching gears with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Mr. Toad—hot or not?”

Juniper froze mid-sip. “What?”

“Hot or not,” Emily repeated, as if it were the most natural question in the world. “We were just saying he’s got that whole ‘powerful older man’ thing going on. You know, if you’re into that.”

Sarah groaned. “Emily, you’re incorrigible.”

“Oh, relax,” Emily said with a wink. “It’s just hypothetical. Not like I’m volunteering to crawl under his desk for a promotion. Unless…” She trailed off, laughing.

“Emily!” Sarah said again, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “I didn’t hear that. As far as HR is concerned, this conversation never happened.”

Juniper stayed quiet, but her stomach tightened. The banter felt too close to a line she wasn’t ready to admit even existed.

“Seriously, though,” Emily pressed, turning her attention back to the topic. “For his age, he’s not bad-looking. Rugged, even. And those suits? He knows what he’s doing.”

Sarah nodded, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I’ll give you that. He’s got presence. The kind that makes you pay attention, you know?”

“It’s the mystery,” Emily said decisively. “He doesn’t talk much, so you can project whatever you want onto him. Maybe he’s secretly brooding about a tragic love affair or hiding a dark, sexy past.”

“Or,” Sarah interjected, deadpan, “he’s just a workaholic CEO who thinks feelings are for people who can’t meet deadlines.”

“Okay, but that can be sexy, too,” Emily said, grinning.

Juniper **** a laugh, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. “You two spend way too much time analyzing our boss.”

“Hey, it beats talking about sales projections,” Emily said with a shrug.

“And don’t act like you’re immune to his charm,” Sarah added, her tone teasing. “You’re right outside his office all day. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you sometimes.”

Juniper stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on,” Sarah said, grinning. “You must have noticed.”

“There’s nothing to notice,” Juniper said, too quickly.

“Sure, sure,” Emily said with a smirk. “Whatever you say.”

The break room fell into a momentary silence, broken only by the faint hum of the coffee machine. Juniper glanced out the window again, her colleagues’ words swirling uncomfortably in her mind.

Emily leaned against the counter, sighing dramatically. “Anyway, Juniper, when’s the last time Michael made you blush like that?”

The comment hung in the air, cutting sharper than Emily probably intended. Juniper’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“You know,” Sarah said, sensing the tension and changing the subject, “you’re doing an amazing job up there. If anyone’s going places in this company, it’s you.”

Juniper **** a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Emily raised her mug in a mock toast. “To Juniper Keys, future queen of the 25th floor.”

“Here, here,” Sarah said, clinking her mug against Emily’s.

Juniper laughed lightly, but the sound felt hollow. As the other two slipped back into their chatter, she couldn’t shake the unease their conversation had stirred.

Emily’s words echoed in her mind, juxtaposed against the bland routine she shared with Michael. Life’s too short for boring sex.

And then, more troubling: We’ve all seen the way he looks at you sometimes.

She shook her head, finishing her coffee in one long sip. She had work to do.

Juniper returned to her desk, the smooth surface of the polished wood cool beneath her palms as she placed her coffee mug down. She straightened her posture, her eyes drawn toward the thick glass separating her space from Mr. Toad’s office. The man himself was seated at his desk, his shaved head catching the natural light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His head was an oddly distinctive feature—polished, unadorned, and commanding in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It lent him an air of discipline, almost militaristic in its precision.

His head tilted slightly as he reviewed a document, his dark eyes sharp and intent. Even from her desk, she could sense the weight of his focus.

The thought struck her unexpectedly: he looks untouchable.

Shaking herself from the unbidden observation, Juniper **** her attention to her monitor. A quick glance at her calendar reminded her of her next task. Mr. Toad had asked her to coordinate a series of interviews for the marketing director position. It wasn’t technically her responsibility, but in this office, hierarchy bent to results, and Juniper was good at getting results.

The faint creak of his office door caught her attention.

“Ms. Keys.”

Her name on his lips was like a switch—everything else in her brain quieted instantly. She looked up, meeting his gaze.

“Yes, Mr. Toad?”

“Would you step into my office for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Juniper rose, smoothing her blazer instinctively. As she walked toward his office, she was acutely aware of every step, the soft hum of the carpet underfoot, and the way the faint scent of his cologne grew stronger the closer she got. It was woodsy and sharp, like cedar and citrus—a signature she now associated entirely with him.

He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

She settled in, her hands folded neatly in her lap, while he remained standing, flipping through a few pages of a document. His presence loomed large, but not oppressively. It was more like the gravitational pull of a planet—inescapable and absolute.

“I wanted to discuss your role here,” he began, his voice even and steady.

Juniper nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“You’ve done exceptional work since you joined this company,” he said, his dark eyes holding hers. “Your adaptability, efficiency, and attention to detail are assets I don’t take lightly.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment, though she worked to keep her expression neutral. “Thank you. I try to do my best.”

He nodded, his beard shifting slightly with the movement. “That much is clear. But I want more than just effort, Ms. Keys. I want vision. I want people who anticipate what I need before I ask. People who can elevate this company—and themselves—with every decision they make.”

Juniper’s stomach twisted, not unpleasantly. There was something about the intensity of his gaze, the deliberate cadence of his words, that made her feel simultaneously exhilarated and exposed.

“I understand,” she said carefully.

“I hope you do.” He straightened, placing the document on the desk before taking his seat. His chair creaked softly as he leaned back, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “I’m considering you for more responsibilities—assignments that require discretion and trust. Are you ready for that?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation.

“Yes,” Juniper said after a beat. Her voice was steady, but inside, her heart raced. “I’m ready.”

His lips curved into a faint smile—a rare expression that felt earned, not given lightly. “Good. I’ll have Diane send you the details later this week. In the meantime, focus on the marketing director interviews. I want the shortlist on my desk by Friday.”

“Understood,” she replied.

He nodded once, dismissing her with a glance back at his computer screen. “That’ll be all.”

Juniper stood, her movements precise as she exited his office. She felt his gaze linger for just a second longer than necessary, or maybe it was her imagination. Either way, it left her feeling both empowered and unsteady.

Back at her desk, she took a deep breath, her fingers brushing the keyboard as she pulled up her files. The rest of the day awaited her, but a thread of tension, thin but persistent, coiled in her chest.

Was it ambition? Anxiety? Or was it something more—something she wasn’t ready to name yet?

For now, Juniper buried herself in her work, letting the steady rhythm of tasks soothe her restless thoughts. Yet, in the back of her mind, the image of Nathaniel Toad’s shaved head, glinting in the light, refused to fade. It was ridiculous, she told herself, and yet...

...it was there.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of tasks and meetings. Juniper moved through them with her usual poise, but her thoughts occasionally wandered back to the break room conversation. She couldn’t help but replay the teasing comments about Mr. Toad, their banter weaving its way into the fabric of her day.

Mr. Toad passed her desk a few times, his presence a quiet ripple through the office, commanding attention without demanding it. Each time, she felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a sense of alertness, curiosity, or maybe just the weight of his enigmatic aura.

By the time the clock struck the end of the workday, the office had begun to empty, its once-bustling atmosphere giving way to a quieter hum. Juniper gathered her belongings, her mind still buzzing with fragments of the day.

As she walked toward the elevator, she passed Mr. Toad’s office. She hesitated for just a moment before glancing in.

“Goodnight, Mr. Toad,” she said, her voice steady but carrying the faintest hint of something new—a curiosity she couldn’t quite suppress.

He looked up, the light catching on his shaved head and accentuating the sharp angles of his face. His salt-and-pepper beard seemed softer in the dim light of his office. “Goodnight, Juniper. Enjoy your evening,” he replied, his voice carrying its usual authority, though there was something else there, too. Warmth? Or was it just her imagination?

As the elevator doors slid shut and began their descent, Juniper leaned against the cool metal wall, her thoughts a mix of satisfaction and unease. The day’s work was done, but its impressions lingered, a mosaic of office gossip, carefully chosen words, and a lingering sense of mystery.