Elena Romano had never been on time for anything in her life. And today was no exception.
The difference, of course, was that today just happened to be the most important day of her life.
~ ELENA
My heels beat a frantic, pointless rhythm against the concrete as I sprinted.
Tick-tock, you're screwed, Elena. Sweat was gluing my blouse to my back, and when I risked a peek at my phone, the numbers 9:58 AM glowed mockingly. Two blocks. Two minutes. I had to be there by 10 AM.
No amount of praying was going to get me there on time.
Mr. Gray, The CEO of Gray's Group wouldn't just be punctual; I had heard he is the kind of man who'd fire someone for being one second early, just on principle. This interview at The Gray's Group wasn't just a job interview; it was my one lottery ticket out of a life spent worrying about my bank balance. People dreamed of just stepping into the lobby, let alone getting an interview. Fresh out of university, a foreign degree no one cared about, and a bank account that currently housed a family of dust bunnies, this was my desperate, last-ditch shot.
The massive glass doors of Gray's Group towered ahead like the entrance to a different world. I pushed one open, barely dodging a man with a briefcase who didn't even glance at me as if I were just part of the scenery. I felt like an imposter, I was actually dressed like one.
I half-stumbled to the reception desk, gasping like a marathon runner who'd forgotten to train. The woman behind the desk was a flawless automaton, her fingers a blur on the keyboard. She didn't acknowledge me until I was right there, dripping sweat onto her pristine carpet.
"I—I have an interview with Mr. Gray," I managed, my voice a pathetic squeak.
She looked up, finally, her eyes colder than the air conditioning. "You're late."
"I know!" I blurted, my cheeks flaming. "But I'm qualified. I'm resourceful! I've done my research—"
"Mr. Gray is extremely punctual. He won't see you." Her tone was final, the dismissal in her hand movement a death sentence.
Just like that. My opportunity, canceled by a receptionist who looked like she ran on pure ice. Her name tag read Patty, but she had the energy of a No.
Disappointment, sharp and brutal, made my chest ache. I turned to leave, hating myself for not showering, for the wrinkled blouse, for the fundamental flaw in my DNA that prevented me from ever being on time.
My phone buzzed: Hey, how's it going? You got this! Lily, my best friend, the only person who believed I was capable of anything more than burning toast. Her faith was the punch to the gut I needed.
"Shit. I should at least fix my face," I muttered, catching sight of my reflection in the lobby's glossy glass wall.
I spun on my heel, marching back up to the Ice Queen. She rolled her eyes as I approached, ready for the desperate begging.
"I told you, girl—"
"I know," I cut in, not letting her finish. "Bathroom."
She blinked, caught off guard. "You can't use the company's bathroom. You're not even—"
I already knew where that sentence was going. She thought I'd sneak into the building and start wandering around like some desperate stalker.
"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere," I said quickly. "Just the bathroom. Promise."
She frowned, clearly not convinced. "I don't know…"
"Seriously," I said, holding up my hands. "I wouldn't do anything to get you in trouble. I just want to freshen up. Quick in and out. Then I'll be gone."
After a long, deeply condescending stare, she finally sighed. "Go through the lobby. Take the stairs. First floor, on your right. And be quick."
"Thank you!" I chirped, already heading toward the direction. Just get in there, fix your face, and get out, Elena. One tiny, successful mission.
I passed through the lobby, my heart still sinking. Somehow a new, reckless thought was taking root but I quickly shunned it.
"No Elena, you wouldn't get someone fired because you decided to sneak in." I murmured immediately shutting the thought.
Wait...
First floor, on your right?
I paused, staring at two identical, impossibly polished staircases. One to the left, one to the right. Patty, the receptionist, didn't say the first staircase on my right, she said the stairs, then right. Did she mean the staircase furthest to the right, or the one that goes up and is on the right side of the room? I should go back, but I knew if I showed my face again, she'd sick security on me.
Screw it. Second staircase it is. It's more on the right anyway.
I started climbing, too busy admiring the tiles to notice the person walking straight in my direction.
I didn't even get a chance to apologize before the voice cut me short.
"Are you the worker sent to carry the vases to Mr. Gray's office?"
I looked up at a woman who radiated pure, expensive, flawless menace. An Ice Queen who made the receptionist look like a warm cup of cocoa. And I knew, in that gut-sinking way, that if I opened my mouth to correct her, she wouldn't hesitate to have me thrown off the side of the building.
So, instead of confessing I was just here for a desperate restroom break, I did the only logical thing. I nodded.