Page 28 of City of Wind and Lies

"Sorry you had to witness that, ladies,” Morgan smiles at us politely while she waits for the next elevator. "Let me know if you have any issues and I can be back onsite."

Cami and I share a glance before retreating to our desks. I can't help but snicker at the whole thing. For a fleeting moment, I'm concerned that Allen actually knows something about Bowie and me, but how would he? He's just sour and making spiteful comments, so I let it roll off of me and get back to my job.

Later that afternoon, I receive an email from Bowie, instructing me to be an interim supervisor for the accounting department, because no one in the actual department wants to mess with the reporting and reviewing of data sheets. There’s a link for a training program I can do online at the company’s expense, and if I complete that, I can have the full compensation package associated with the department head title.

I really hope that no one else wants that job, because I don't want to deal with rumors of me blowing my way into a promotion- even if I do have the degrees for it.

Glancing at the clock, it's almost five - close enough. I shut down my computer and grab my purse as I pull open my door.

"See ya tomorrow Cami," I wave as I pass her desk.

"Oh Wren, wait," she calls out, motioning for me to come to her desk. "Here," she says, handing me two matte black business cards with an embossed purple butterfly and the words 'Monarch Club VIP' scrolled across them in silver.

"What's this for?" I ask, fingering the cards and flipping them around.

"Mr. Sorrentino asked that I give them to you. Access for you and a guest to the VIP section at the Monarch Club."

That place was gorgeous, and I've heard it's badass on the weekends. When we worked that catering event, it was obviously closed down for a private function, but it's got a reputation for being hard to get into- and now I have a VIP pass? Hell yeah.

"But, why?" I question.

She shrugs. "Said it was a thank you for the extra hours you'd put in on those reports or whatever."

Am I bitter that he couldn't man up and give them to me himself? A little. Am I excited for a chance to dress up, go out, and drink on his dime? Fuck yeah. And because I’m a masochist, I round Cami's desk toward his door, my heart thrumming in an anxious rhythm as I raise my hand to knock.

"Oh, he left already, girl." Cami closes her laptop, swiveling in her chair. "He's on a business trip. Won't be back in the office until Monday."

Even after his asshole-ish display, I can't help but feel an influx of dejection. There really is something wrong with me.

Sad girls don't wear stilettos.

I repeat mine and Drea's mantra as I buckle the strappy nude heels on my feet and push up from the bed to my full height.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door, I twist around, checking out how great my ass looks in the skin-tight glittery champagne mini dress. I don't know if it’s the deep cowl neck or the halter straps, but I swear my boobs look bigger.

I feel like a fucking baddie and I’m determined to have a good time tonight.

"Coming in," Drea announces as she twists the handle of my bedroom door, pushing inside.

"Daaamn bitch, you look fire!" she catcalls, strutting across the room to stand behind me

"Excuse me, Camila Mendes," I coo, twirling my finger in the air so she'll do a 360. "Have you seen my bestie?"

"You sure it doesn't give too much Barbie vibes?" she asks, toying with a magenta sequin.

"Positive," I say, swiping sheer gloss across my lips and twisting the lid back on the tube.

Turning to face her, I nod in approval. "Trust, you're a knockout babe."

"Okay," she sighs.

Her phone dings and she pulls it from her silver clutch, tapping on the screen. "Rideshare is five minutes out."

I tousle the loose waves of my hair, giving it a final fluff before I grab my clutch from the table, tuck the gloss and my phone inside, and cock an eyebrow at Drea. "I'm ready to get tipsy on the dance floor. Are you?"

She flips her slick straight brown locks over a shoulder. "Let's go!"

Taking our chances with the chill of a September night, we leave our jackets and go to the curb to wait for the rideshare. Luckily, it isn't long before the car pulls up, and we check the tags before sliding into the backseat and buckling in.

---