Redirecting her attention to me, she purses her lips at me, shifting from the sweet to stern in an instant. “You know, most would be envious of the position you find yourself in. Mr. Moretti doesn’t bring just anyone to these events.”
She lowers her brow as her eyes scan the room. “Between you and me, he has never brought a guest with him to any event. It’s an honor,” she whispers.
“I’m sure it would be perceived as an honor to some, but I am not here to play dress up. I’m here to write, which is what I was brought here for.”
“If you were brought here to write, then I’m sure you will be able to, in addition to whatever privileges Mr. Moretti deems you worthy of.” The condescension in her tone makes my blood boil. I ignore her ridiculous comment as I instead begin filling out the paperwork that she handed me from before. I shake my head at the fact that this man thinks that his presence alone is an honor. It only highlights the delusional privilege he has anointed himself with. Even worse is the fact he has his staff believing such bullshit.
As I finish filling out the paperwork, I feel my phone vibrating in my purse. Trying not to be rude, I shift my gaze to the inside of my purse where my phone lays flat. I move my shoulder, so the lock screen of the phone shakes awake. A message from Titi Lana pops up.
I miss her. I can’t wait to vent to her about the happenings of today.
“Hey, Sienna, text me later to let me know about your first day! I’ll be …”
The message cuts off just as I hear a bell chime.
Looking up, I notice a woman enter the dressing room. She walks past Natasha, outstretching her hand to me. “Hi, I’m Elaine,” she introduces herself with a crooked smile. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Sienna.” She looks like she could be Natasha’s daughter, or at least, some form of relative. There is a similarity in their facial features, despite there being at least a twenty-year age difference between the two women, if I had to guess.
Elaine steps back and squints as she takes me in. Expecting her to take my measurements, like Natasha said she would, I stand there awkwardly waiting.
“I think it’s going to fit you like a glove.” She beams as she disappears into the rows of garments past her sewing station.
Natasha is busy squinting on her phone and doesn’t catch my confusion at Elaine’s comment. I continue staring at Natasha, waiting for her to look up at me, to give me any more instruction, but she doesn’t.
“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking this as my opportunity to regain her attention.
Lifting her nose from her phone, she yells back to Elaine. At first, it sounds like Spanish, though there are distinct differences from words I have heard Mama or Titi Lana speak. If I had to guess, it’s in Italian, and if I were to venture another guess, judging from the infliction in her voice, it isn’t good.
Returning her attention to me, she answers, “Nothing, I hope.”
Well, that’s reassuring.
Elaine reemerges from the back with a garment bag in hand just as the familiar chime of the elevator goes off once more. Simultaneous panic strikes both of their faces as two men emerge.
The first man I see is wearing a crisp white lab coat. However, that is the only thing I could describe as crisp on him. His facial hair, much like the hair that adorns his head, is disheveled. He also looks notably startled to see us standing in his view as he guides the second man out of the elevator.
The other man’s face is visibly swollen, even beneath the extensive wrapping that looks like surgical tape fastened around his face. The slow way he drags his feet as the man in the lab coat guides him makes the man appear as if he is drugged.
“Christian, I didn’t know you made it down from your tower during the day hours,” Natasha sneers.
“Natasha, always a pleasure.” He nods, though his words come off more sarcastic than genuine. “I was just helping my friend get familiar with the place. Figured I’d give him a brief tour and get some new clothes. I’m surprised that anyone is on the floor at this time.”
I look to the bandaged man, who is swaying as he tries to stand. The man looks like he is in desperate need of a new wardrobe and most certainly a shower. I can’t help but notice the dark crimson stains on what once used to be a white shirt beneath the black leather jacket he is wearing.
“Not as surprised as I am,” Natasha scoffs. “Maybe if you read your emails, you would know that the fitting room is occupied today. Plus, this level is usually reserved for current employees during traditional business hours.”
Directing the bandaged man to a chair right outside the elevator door, Christian helps him sit before he responds. “Cut the bullshit, Natasha. I am a current employee, and I’m helping a newbie, just like you are.” He directs his angry gaze to me now.
Apprehensively, I make my way toward him with an outstretched hand, hoping if I introduce myself, it will cut the tension building between Natasha and him. “Hi, I’m Sienna.”
“Yes, Ms. Ricci, right? It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says as he takes my hand in a strong hold, bringing it to his lips for an awkward kiss.
I immediately release my hand from his and step back. His attempts at charm come off sleazy compared to Carmine’s.
“Yes, it is. Nice to meet you.” I don’t bother disguising the disgust or hesitancy in my voice. Kind of ironic that, according to Natasha, this man can’t pay attention to an email, but he already knows who I am.
“Well, if that will be all, we have work to do,” Natasha interrupts.
