Page 8 of VOGUEish

“Aren’t you afraid someone will steal your taxi?” She pulled her phone out of her purse. Hopefully, she could get someone to snap a photo of her entering the building so she could add the image to her memory book. A documentation of her journey from loser to winner.

He chuckled. “Touché.”

Bemused by his chivalry, Isabella allowed him to escort her to the building. She even momentarily stood and watched him walk back to the taxi. For a bully, he had a nice ass. Sending that thought to the background, she stared up at the entry to the building that housed Naked Runway. This was it. The last rung on a ladder she’d been climbing her entire adult life.

If that rung broke due to the magazine struggling, Isabella’s carefully planned comeback moment would crash down around her like a house built on dollar-store stilettos. She exhaled a loud breath and shuddered. She no longer had Ms. Patricia around to pull strings and cheer her on via Zoom chats. Isabella was all on her own to bring the past nine years together and obtain her revenge.

The adorable office where Isabella had first been introduced to Patricia had long since been vacated by the Fairy Godmother Project. Ms. Patricia had refused to tell Isabella of their new location. Said it was on a need-to-know basis, and Isabella no longer needed to know it since Isabella now had her fairy godmother’s phone number. Then the woman had up and died on Isabella with no warning.

The thunk of something against her back jostled Isabella out of her musings. Startled, she glanced around and was bombarded by a slew of individuals casting her irritable glances. “Oh, sorry.” She had blocked the entry. “I’m just standing here like I’m the only one in the world.” She quickly forfeited her plan to ask someone to snap a photo of her walking through the rotating door that led to her most-perfect future and instead rushed inside.

Once again, today had not unfolded as planned.

CHAPTER TWO

It was only ten a.m. on Isabella’s first day, but it felt like a year’s worth of information had already been thrown at her. Unfortunately, most of it hadn’t stuck. Come to find out, her brain wasn’t big on remembering names before lunch time.

At the moment, she sat at her new desk and was frantically accessing the company directory in search of the cell number of a man whose name Amanda couldn’t remember but who’d worked in legal until last month.

“Isabella, get Sloane on the line.” Amanda was sitting in her office behind a beautiful glass desk.

“On it.” Isabella scanned the phone list in search of a Sloane.

“Has Tyce dropped off the images I requested?” Amanda asked. “The book is waiting.”

If Isabella remembered correctly, Tyce was the on-staff photographer. “Not yet.” At least she didn’t think so. People had been popping in all morning to leave items for Amanda. The last being thirty pairs of green jeans for an upcoming photo shoot. Isabella found one Sloane in the directory under senior editors and punched in the number.

“Sloane Russel’s office. Trinity speaking.”

“I have Amanda for Sloane.” Isabella transferred the call then searched the top of her desk for a package from Tyce. Nothing. She picked up the phone to call him. He answered on the first ring.

“Tell Amanda I’m working on it,” he said by way of a hello. “If she wouldn’t change her mind every thirty seconds, this wouldn’t be necessary.”

Isabella hung up. “Tyce is working on it,” she said once Amanda ended her call with Sloane.

Isabella had known Amanda would have high expectations. After all, the woman was vying for the editor-in-chief position that was now open. The former one hadn’t been able to keep it in his pants and had caused an all-out brouhaha for the company’s legal team. Social media had had a lot to say over that whole mess.

“Is my latte here yet?” Amanda suddenly stood in the doorway that connected their two offices.

Isabella took a breath. “I put a rush on the delivery just like you said to do. Are they notoriously slow? Should I research new coffee shops with excellent delivery times?”

That won’t be necessary. Once I’m promoted, I’ll hire a barista. I don’t know why we don’t already have one on staff.”

“Excellent plan,” Isabella cooed.

Amanda preened. “Speaking of promotions, I’ve been summoned to a meeting with the asshole brought in by the corporation’s new owner to micromanage how we are all doing our job.”

This was the first Isabella had heard of said asshole or that Naked Runway had a new owner. How had she missed that in the news? “I hate assholes. They go around treating everyone else like ass wipes.” For the love of common sense, did I just say that? It was one thing for her boss to be less than professional. Isabella knew better than to use such language in a work setting. Ms. Patricia would be rolling over in her grave.

Thankfully, Amanda’s lips quirked instead of pursed. “He’s made himself at home in my future office. Following the meeting with him, I’ll be in a power meeting directly across the hall from there. If my latte arrives before it begins, be a doll and bring it to me.”

“And where exactly in the building is your future office?” Isabella asked. Amanda had not offered to give her a tour. Nor had she gone out of her way to introduce Isabella to anyone.

“Southeast corner of the building.”

Isabella resisted an urge to ask Amanda which direction they were facing. She’d use the compass on her phone. Which meant she needed to retrieve it from Amanda who had borrowed it to make a call to a rival. This so his secretary wouldn’t know it was a call coming from Naked Runway or Amanda. “Just to clarify, I’m not to interrupt the power meeting, but I am to interrupt the one you have with the guy squatting in your future office?” No way did she want to get anything wrong this morning.

“That’s what I said,” Amanda responded as if talking to an infant. “The first is with a nobody who thinks he’s a somebody. The second may be graced by the new owner. If that happens, it will no doubt be to announce the next editor-in-chief. I do not want to appear high maintenance.” Amanda grabbed a sticky note and a pen off Isabella’s desk and scribbled something. Then, instead of giving the note to Isabella, she tossed the pen toward her.

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