~Elena
"Yes! Of course, yes," I stammered, agreeing to move unspecified, potentially lethal vases, still reeling from the sheer, intimidating perfection of the woman in front of me.
She barely glanced at my disaster of an outfit before cutting me off, probably deciding I was really from the logistics company. "I've been waiting for you. Come with me."
She led me through a door into the main part of the company. The ground floor was grand, sure, but this? This was next level. People everywhere, moving fast, talking quietly but efficiently, focused like they were curing diseases or managing billion dollar deals.
And somehow, they all greeted Her. Every single one. Nods. Smiles. Respect.
Meanwhile I felt completely invisible, like I didn't even register.
God, I envied them. I envied her. I even envied the damn building.
I felt a tight squeeze in my chest. If I'd just been on time, I could've been one of them. This could've been my world too.
"You'll move them with utmost care," she said suddenly, snapping me out of it. "They're quite heavy, so one at a time. And if you break anything, you'll pay. And I doubt people like you can afford them."
Wow. Okay.
"She sure is rude for someone who looks that good," I thought, but I didn't say it. She stopped walking so suddenly that I almost bumped into her again.
"Stop being so clumsy," she snapped, then opened the door in front of us.
It wasn't an office. It was a storeroom lined wall to wall with massive glass vases that looked like they belonged in a palace.
"Move them to Mr. Gray's office. And don't even think about stealing," she warned, turning to leave.
"Move them?" I echoed, the reality of my predicament finally hitting me. I was supposed to fix my look, not transport priceless relics.
I thought about confessing, but then the image of the receptionist, Patty, popped into my head. If I blew my cover now, Patty would take the fall for letting the "intruder" in. I couldn't do that to her. I'd just move one vase, slip out, and leave, and the Ice Queen would never know the difference. One vase, Elena. Quick in and out.
"Isn't that what you're here for?" she narrowed her eyes, waiting.
"Yes," I rushed to confirm. "I was just wondering where Mr. Gray's office is." A technical truth, at least.
"Oh, the standalone," she said, her voice chilling with reverence. "Just take the elevator to the top floor."
The highest floor? The whole floor to himself? The sheer arrogance of it was baffling. "Mr. Gray hates people loitering around his personal space," she added, as if reading my mind.
She left, and I was alone with my lie and a room full of breakable fortunes. I selected the smallest, least-threatening vase, a heavy, cold monstrosity, and wrapped my arms around it. It was impossibly huge, blocking my entire field of vision.
I held the vase like my life depended on it.
I mean, it kind of did. If I dropped it, not only would i get arrested, but I'd also probably end up drowning in debt for the rest of my life. I couldn't even imagine how I'd explain it "Oh yeah, I didn't make it to the interview, and also I broke one of your expensive vases because I'm a disaster."
I got into the elevator.
"Thank God," I muttered, relieved that it was empty. I could barely see where I was going with the damn vase in my arms, let alone share the space with other people.
I swear, the elevator ride felt like it lasted an eternity. Maybe it was just the weight of the vase, or maybe it was the anxiety weighing me down. Either way, when the doors finally dinged open, I practically stumbled out.
I stepped into another corridor, and this one?
It was even more prettier than the first. Like, I didn't think things could get shinier, but here we were. The art on these walls wasn't just expensive, it was obscene. I didn't even want to breathe near it. It felt wrong.
"This is heaven," I muttered. Then, almost absentmindedly, I thought, I should take pictures for Lily. Maybe on my way out, after I drop this vase off.
I glanced around, taking it all in. Noticing a staircase, Whoever designed this place knew what they were doing. It's so lovely.
"Wow," I murmured, suddenly stopping in my tracks. My eyes had landed on a painting, big, vibrant, and utterly unexpected.
It was massive, leaning against the wall just outside an office door. It was the painting of a house, but it looked like it had been drawn by a child. There was a little kid, a stick figure man holding the hand of another stick figure, a woman, maybe? The family portrait vibe was so innocent, so pure, that I almost cried. It was like a drawing you'd expect a child to make for their parents, the kind of thing my mom would've thrown in the trash but never framed.
I stood there, wondering for a second. Mr. Gray has a kid? The world's most eligible, ridiculously private bachelor? No blog, no magazine, no bit of research I'd done had ever mentioned a child. Of course tho, what did I except? No blog or news ever had any photo of him.
I was so consumed by the shocking intimacy of the painting that I didn't notice the door open. I backed up a single step, lost in my thoughts, and slammed straight into something solid.
Before I could steady myself, the vase slipped from my hand, hit the floor, and shattered like my heart into a million pieces.