Page 5 of VOGUEish

And if she needed further proof, the ripe body odor coming off the guy next to her on the subway got the job done. Hellooo… Deodorant is your friend.

When the train jerked to a stop, Isabella piled out with all the other working stiffs. Today was her first day on a new job. Yep, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, she had her first nine-to-five career at Naked Runway.

That’s what happens when nine years earlier, one accepted tuition, books, and housing money from one’s “fairy godmother,” along with the kooky stipulations said fairy godmother attached to the wish package. A package specifically designed for Isabella to exact revenge upon her high school enemies.

Hitting the sidewalk full stride, Isabella pulled her hood up to protect her stylish brunette bob from the big, fat, sloppy snowflakes falling from the gray sky. Unless her calculations were off, she had just enough time to complete her errand and still arrive at her new position a full fifteen minutes early.

She was the newest senior editorial assistant for the magazine’s legendary fashion editor, Amanda Goldstein. A woman described as both magnificent and maleficent by her former minions.

Isabella adjusted her backpack, which caused a painful kink in her shoulder. Her bag was heavier than normal because it held the four most recent issues of the magazine. She planned to study them over lunch.

Naked freaking Runway. Fourteen-year-old Isabella would have been beside herself at this opportunity. That girl had yearned for grace and beauty while living in a body that mocked her desires far more fiercely than the school’s ensemble of mean girls ever had.

She rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of a fancy hotel. The Waldon. She had attended a masquerade party there on New Year’s Eve. What a night. The kind where one lost pieces of one’s outfit.

“Superb morning we’re having.” The doorman opened the heavy glass and steel door for her.

She gave him her brightest smile. “The perfect morning for new beginnings.”

About to go inside, she saw a taxi and hailed it with a sharp whistle. It weaved through the traffic toward her and pulled to a stop. She opened its door and tossed her backpack inside. “Start the meter. I’ll be no more than ten seconds.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and promptly plowed into a massive male chest. Funny, this whole adventure had begun with her plowing into a massive chest…now, on the final leg of the journey, here she was, bumping into another.

“Pardon me.” The guy stepped around her and placed his hand on the taxi’s open car door as if to climb inside.

“This taxi is taken,” she informed him.

He shuffled back and motioned for her to get in. “My apologies. I thought you were exiting.”

“Just dropping off my backpack.” She pointed to where it had slid onto the floorboard. “I’m simply running inside to grab a package.”

He frowned. “Taxis aren’t like beach chairs at a resort. You can’t toss your towel over one and claim it for later.”

She rolled her eyes at the grump. While the first chest she’d bumped into way back at the age of eighteen had turned out to belong to a hero, this one obviously did not. She glanced at the driver. “Ten seconds,” she repeated to him.

He belched. “Not a second more.”

“Got it.” As she hurried through the door to the hotel, she heard Rude Man say, “Of all days for my driver to be sick.”

Inside, she stepped up to the concierge desk. “I’m here to pick up a red shoe.” She resisted the urge to explain how she’d lost just one shoe. Truth be told, she was pretty sure her late fairy godmother had something to do with how it had gotten left behind. Even dead, the woman sure liked to pull pranks on Isabella to remind her of their contractual deal.

“And you are?” The concierge sounded very French and oh-so-doubtful Isabella was at the right hotel.

“Isabella P. Chance.”

“Who left the shoes for you?” He inquired with no hint of recognition. He obviously either hadn’t been working or hadn’t noticed her coming and going from the New Year’s Eve party hosted in the ballroom over the weekend. This was probably for the best.

“Shoe. Just one. The left one. Red. The host of the party that was held in the Rainbow Room promised to drop it off here for me to collect.” She refused to blush. When one makes a New Year’s Resolution to have more fun, one must expect to lose the occasional item of clothing.

The sound of a horn honking caused her to glance out the window. Ugh. Rude Man was climbing inside her taxi. “Never mind. I’ll come back.” Isabella rushed out the door just as the taxi pulled into traffic. “Not nice!” she shouted at the back of the moving vehicle.

“Here’s your backpack, ma’am,” the doorman said. “Shall I hail you another taxi?”

Isabella was about to respond yes when she noticed her stolen taxi had become stuck at a red light. “That won’t be necessary.” She grabbed her bag and weaved her way through stopped cars. When she reached the taxi, she ripped the door open. “Taxi thief!”

“I beg your pardon?”

She crowded Rude Man until he scooted enough for her to get her butt inside and shut the door. Then she turned and gave him a full-on glare. “You are quite ill-mannered.”

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