Hannah's Chance
Copyright© 2025 by jackmarlowe
Chapter 2
Monday morning dawned with the promise of a new chapter in Hannah’s life. It was a bright, sunny morning, which matched her mood entirely. As she arrived at work, she took her place at her usual secretary’s desk, but almost immediately Ms. Buchanan called her into her office.
Hannah’s heart raced with anticipation, feeling this had to be good news, although Ms. Buchanan’s initial demeanour gave nothing away. “You surprised me, Hannah,” she began, her tone neutral. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Thank you for giving me the chance,” replied Hannah. “I did my best,” she continued, her eyes meeting Ms. Buchanan’s without wavering.
Ms. Buchanan leaned back in her chair, studying Hannah with a critical gaze. “That you did,” she admitted. “The investment from Kraskal is substantial. But I’m curious, what made you think you could handle this kind of ... situation?”
Hannah took a deep breath, her confidence bolstered by the weekend’s events. “I’ve seen enough in my time here to know what it takes,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m willing to go the extra mile to succeed.”
Ms. Buchanan nodded, a hint of respect in her eyes. “Indeed you have,” she said, her voice cool. “And it seems Mr. Kraskal is quite enamored with your ... enthusiasm. Not only has he agreed to make the investment, he’s also recommended you for a more permanent role in marketing.”
Hannah felt a rush of triumph. “I won’t disappoint,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ll work hard to make sure we meet all our targets.”
Ms. Buchanan’s expression softened slightly. “I have no doubt,” she said. “But remember, Hannah, the world of high finance is not for the faint of heart. There will be more nights like this one, and not all of them will end in such ... mutually beneficial ways.”
Hannah swallowed, nodding solemnly. She knew what she had signed up for, and she was ready to play the game. “I understand,” she murmured. “I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to succeed.”
Ms. Buchanan leaned forward, her gaze intense. “Good,” she said. “Because the stakes are higher than you can imagine. You’re not just representing yourself anymore, you’re representing the company.”
Hannah nodded, her heart racing. She had proven herself, but she knew this was just the beginning. “I won’t let you down,” she said, her voice strong and determined.
Ms. Buchanan’s eyes searched hers. Hannah was young and inexperienced, but might turn out to be a real asset to the company. Although on the other hand, her success with Krascal might turn out to be a flash in the pan or simply beginner’s luck.
“I know you won’t,” she said finally. “Starting today, you’re part of the marketing team. You’ll have to learn quickly, but I have a feeling you’re a fast learner.”
Hannah felt a rush of excitement. “Thank you, Ms. Buchanan,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Ms. Buchanan warned. “This is just the first of many challenges. You’ll have to be prepared to handle situations like the one with Mr. Kraskal, and maybe even more intense.”
Hannah took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice firm.
Ms. Buchanan nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Good,” she said. “You’ll need to be.” She handed Hannah an envelope. “This is a letter confirming the terms of your appointment. It’s a three month trial, but if you carry on the way you started that’ll just be a formality.”
Hannah took the envelope, her heart racing. She had done it. She had gone from secretary to marketer in one night. But she knew that this was just the first step.
“I won’t disappoint,” she said, her eyes shining with determination. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself.”
Ms. Buchanan’s smile grew. “I’m sure you will,” she said. “But remember, Hannah, in this game, there are no free rides. Every victory has to be earnt.”
Hannah nodded, her eyes never leaving her boss’s. “I understand,” she murmured. “I’m ready for whatever comes next.”
Ms. Buchanan leaned back, steepling her fingers together. “Good,” she said. “Your training sessions start today. You’ll be learning the ropes from the best.”
Hannah felt a twinge of anxiety, knowing she had a lot to learn, but she pushed it aside. “Thank you for the opportunity, Ms. Buchanan,” she said, standing up to leave. “I won’t disappoint.”
“Now that you’re on the team, you’d better call me Clare,” she replied.
Hannah made her way back to her desk, only for Beth the office junior to point her towards the office that had been Shirley’s. “That’s your office now,” she said with a grin. “I’ve also been told to get business cards printed for you. Hannah Jennings isn’t it?”
Hannah hesitated. “No, it’s Hannah Hartwell,” she said. Although she was still a married woman, she decided to mark her new career by reverting to her maiden name. As she cast off her old secretarial role, she decided to cast off her marital name with it.
The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind of training sessions and meetings. Hannah was thrown into the deep end of the marketing pool, but she swam with a determination that surprised even herself. She absorbed every piece of information thrown at her, eager to prove that she was more than just a pretty face capable of closing deals in unorthodox ways. Her colleagues looked at her with a mix of curiosity and respect, and she felt a new sense of belonging that she hadn’t experienced in the stifling confines of her old secretarial role.
One evening, as she was about to leave her office, one of the senior marketers, Alex, put his head around her door. “You know, Hannah,” he began, his voice smooth as silk, “this job isn’t just about numbers and spreadsheets. It’s about knowing people, what makes them tick.”
Hannah nodded, wondering what had prompted his words. “Yes I’ve learned that,” she said, her voice measured. “It’s something I first realized when I used to talk with Shirley.”
Alex smiled. “That’s good,” he said. “It seems like we’re on the same page. Maybe we can help each other out.”
“How so?” she asked, her voice very cool despite the curiosity building within her.
Alex stepped fully into her office, closing the door softly behind him. “The Kraskal deal was impressive,” he murmured, leaning against her desk. “But Clare’s team handles the big whales. I specialize in ... emerging markets. Hungrier clients who need a more personal touch.” His eyes lingered on hers. “We could make a powerful team.”
Hannah felt a thrill run through her—it sounded like an opportunity to prove her worth. She remembered Shirley making a comment about Alex: “He plays the long game, but the rewards are worth the risks.” Her fingers tightened around her pen. “What did you have in mind?”
Alex lowered his voice. “There’s a client flying in on Monday. Young tech entrepreneur, flush with cash but skittish about traditional pitches.” He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “He needs someone who understands ... unconventional approaches.”
Hannah’s pulse quickened. This was her chance to demonstrate her value beyond the Kraskal success. She met Alex’s gaze squarely. “Tell me what you need.”
“He’s staying at the Grand Plaza,” Alex said, sliding a business card across her desk. “Dinner on Monday night, eight o’clock. I’ll handle the numbers. You handle ... establishing rapport.” His smile was all implication. “Shirley had a knack for these situations. I trust you do too?”
Hannah pocketed the card without looking at it. “I know what’s required,” she stated flatly, her mind already calculating the stakes. A fresh success would cement her place here, far from the typing pool. “I’ll be there.”
Alex nodded, satisfaction in his eyes. “Excellent. Dress to impress—this one appreciates boldness.” He turned to leave but paused at the door. “Oh, and Hannah? If we pull this off, something this big, Clare’s going to be very impressed with us both.”
“That’s good to know,” Hannah replied, “since I’m on a three month trial here and a month’s gone by already without me doing very much.”
Alex smiled. “I think everyone’s noticed your progress in the last month. You needn’t be concerned about that.” He opened the door. “But you’re right, Hannah. This is on a different level to anything you’ve handled so far.”
“Bigger than Kraskal?” asked Hannah.
“Definitely bigger than Kraskal,” Alex replied. “Kraskal had invested with us once before. This is a potential new client. New business always makes the biggest splash.”
He slipped out the door, leaving Hannah alone with the hum of the air conditioning and the weight of opportunity. If this deal was as big as Alex said it was, then it was the kind of chance that might not come her way very often, even if she had to share the credit with him.
Hannah spent Monday morning researching the client—Liam Vince, 28, founder of a blockchain startup that just secured Series B funding. His LinkedIn showed sharp eyes and restless energy; industry forums called him “brilliant but volatile.” She chose a crimson dress that whispered confidence without screaming desperation, pairing it with minimalist jewelry.
At the Grand Plaza’s rooftop restaurant, Vince arrived late, radiating distracted intensity. His handshake was brisk, eyes scanning the skyline before settling on her. “Alex says you’re the secret weapon,” he said, swirling his bourbon. “Prove it.” Hannah leaned in, ignoring the menu. “Let’s skip the small talk. You hate wasting time. So do I.”
Over seared scallops, she dissected his startup’s pain points—investor skepticism, scalability myths—matching his technical jargon with street-smart insights. When he questioned her grasp of tokenomics, she quoted his own whitepaper flawlessly. “You’re not just another suit,” he conceded, refilling her glass himself. The tension shifted from scrutiny to collaboration.
They moved to the lounge, sinking into velvet couches under city lights. Vince loosened his tie, confessing his distrust of “old money sharks.” Hannah mirrored his posture, her knee brushing his as she leaned forward. “But you trust hunger,” she murmured. “We’re both building something from nothing.” His smile turned predatory—a challenge accepted.
Hannah traced her fingertip around her glass rim. “You need partners who move fast, not bureaucrats.” His gaze followed the motion, lingering. “And if I said I could secure you terms others wouldn’t dare offer?” The air crackled. Vince’s hand covered hers on the sofa cushion. “Then we’d have a very interesting night.”
Hannah had memorized Alex’s spreadsheets on the proposed deal and knew exactly what to say next. Vince listened and didn’t withdraw his hand. Hannah seamlessly translated Alex’s dry figures into visceral promises—growth charts became conquests, risk assessments into adrenaline. Alex had done a thoroughly good job and now Hannah brought his vision to life.
Vince leaned closer, his breath warm with expensive bourbon. “You’re selling me hard,” he murmured, thumb tracing her knuckles. Hannah didn’t flinch. “Because I believe in this,” she countered, suddenly getting up and waving her arm toward the balcony’s glass doors. “Let me show you the view—it’s the perfect metaphor for your potential.” Outside, the city glittered like a circuit board. Vince followed, drawn by her certainty.
He stood beside her, shoulders almost touching. “Metaphors don’t close deals,” he challenged, but his voice lacked its earlier edge. Hannah pointed toward a cluster of construction cranes. “See that? Growth. Risk. But the payoff reshapes skylines.” She turned, locking eyes with him. “Your move, Liam. Do you want to watch or build?”
His hand slid to her waist, pulling her against him. “You’re not just selling a portfolio, are you?” The city lights reflected in his hungry stare. Hannah didn’t retreat. “I’m selling results,” she breathed. “And I deliver.” His mouth crashed onto hers, urgent and tasting of ambition.
They stumbled to Vince’s hotel suite, which fortunately wasn’t far away, shedding pretense as they did so. Once inside it was Hannah’s clothes than Vince wanted to shed, his hands trembling with eagerness as he fumbled with the buttons of her dress. Hannah helped him, her movements deliberate and unhurried despite his impatience. The fabric pooled at her feet, revealing the black lace beneath—a choice she’d made knowing this moment might come. Vince’s breath hitched; his earlier intensity now focused entirely on her.
The suite was all cool marble and sharp angles, but the bed was deep and yielding. Hannah guided him there, her lips tracing the pulse point at his throat as she unknotted his tie. She could feel the deal hanging between them—unspoken but urgent—as tangible as the silk sheets beneath her skin. She calmly unbuttoned his shirt.
His hands roamed her body with possessive hunger, but she slowed him, arching into his touch just enough to stoke the fire without letting it rage uncontrolled. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered against his ear, her breath catching as his fingers found the clasp of her bra. “The terms ... or me?”
“Both,” he growled, tearing the lace away. The cold air hit her skin, followed by the heat of his mouth. Hannah gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as his mouth greedily explored one breast and then the other.
She pushed him onto his back, straddling him with deliberate slowness. Her hands traced the planes of his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart. “The terms come first,” she murmured, leaning down until her lips brushed his ear. “Sign the memo of understanding tonight ... and I’ll show you how thorough I am with follow-through.”
He groaned, fingers tangling in her hair. “Where is it?” Hannah reached for her clutch beside the bed, extracting the folded document and a pen. Vince scanned it, eyes dark with desire rather than scrutiny. He scrawled his signature without hesitation, tossing the pen aside. “Done. Now prove your worth.”
Hannah took the signed memo, placing it carefully on the nightstand. Then she slid per panties down her legs, the silk whispering against her skin as she discarded them. Vince hurriedly removed the rest of his own clothes, his movements frantic with need. Hannah watched him with a calm, predatory focus. She knew this moment wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about sealing the deal in his mind, making sure the signature on that paper became an unbreakable commitment.
His mouth found one of her breasts again and then the other, whilst his hand had plunged between her legs, stroking her quite firmly. Eventually she pushed him back on the bed and moved over him and straddled him and then lowered herself onto him, a slow, deliberate descent that drew a ragged gasp from his lips. “It’s a tight fit,” he managed to say.
Hannah moved with deliberate grace, her body a weapon of precision, her body arching as she found her rhythm. Each roll of her hips was a sign of her promise to him being kept and each of his heavy breaths was a testament to the power she was wielding over him. But despite her focus on the physical action, her mind remained sharp. “Make him remember this*, she thought. “Make him associate every future profit with this moment.”
He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her like he was anchoring himself against a storm. She leaned forward, her hair brushing his chest, her lips against his ear. “This is just the beginning, Liam. Imagine what we’ll build.” Her voice was a low thrum, syncing with the rhythm she set—slow, deep, deliberate. She felt him shudder beneath her, his control unraveling as she continued her steady movements, holding him captive in the sweet friction.
The city’s glow spilled through the window, painting streaks of light across their bodies. Hannah watched his face—the slack jaw, the fluttering eyelids—and knew she’d won more than just tonight. When he cried out, arching off the bed, she rode the wave with him, her own feigned release a calculated concession to the moment. Afterward, she lay beside him, tracing idle patterns on his damp chest as he struggled for breath. “The paperwork,” he mumbled, eyes already drifting shut. “Alex has it ... in the morning.”
Hannah slipped from the bed at dawn, dressing in silence. Vince slept like a man who’d conquered the world, one arm flung possessively over her pillow. She retrieved the signed memo from the nightstand, its creases sharp against her fingers—a tangible trophy. Downstairs in the lobby’s hushed elegance, she texted Alex a single word: “Done”. The reply was instant: “Clare will be impressed. Meeting first thing. 9 AM.”
The cab ride to the office felt electric. Hannah rehearsed her delivery—confident, concise, letting the signature speak for itself. She wouldn’t mention the hotel suite, the silk sheets, Vince’s trembling hands. Those were merely tools, like Shirley’s old tactics, now sharpened to her own purpose. As the city blurred past, she allowed herself a small, fierce smile. This deal would silence any lingering doubts about her place in marketing.
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