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I scrambled for an answer. Something to get me out of the situation I very suddenly found myself in. “I think I’d rather enjoy some sleep.”
“Hah, won’t we all. But sleep is for the weekend.”
“I don’t have anything to wear, and that’s a lot of extra hours.”
Parties just weren’t my thing. I didn’t like being social, and I especially didn’t like being social with coworkers after hours. And I really, really didn’t like hanging out with coworkers after hours when there was alcohol involved. Whoever decided that work parties and getting drunk were compatible was an utter idiot.
“I’ve already added the overtime, plus an after-hour bonus to your check. And you said you’re already at the party location, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll have one of my PAs bring you an outfit from wardrobe.”
“Oh, I couldn’t-” I was fully aware that wardrobe was full of either custom or designer pieces that cost an entire week’s check or more.
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, if you’re going to be working at the party, it makes sense to wear something that represents us well. I’ll see you soon, Ms. Viello.”
And then he hung up.
I stared at my phone, sputtering at the blank screen. Did he really thing he could just order me to-
Well, actually, he definitely could. He was my boss and a super mega CEO who was used to getting his way. I was sure that I could just refuse and go home, but then I wouldn’t be a team player. And not being a team player was code for ‘soon to be fired’.
Rolling my eyes to myself, I headed to the bathroom and did my best to make myself look a bit better while I waited. I didn’t have a lot in my purse, but a brush, some perfume and a little bit of water splashed on my face could do wonders.
I tried to plan out my interaction for the rest of the party, how I would act and how fake my smile would have to be. It was exhausting, and I just didn’t have the energy for it, but I had to.
No wonder so many other assistants had quit before me. This went beyond competency, beyond smarts and being able to do my job. This was an endless slog uphill with a bunch of unfair requests.
I was just thinking bitterly to myself how unfair it all was when someone new stepped in with a package. Their eyes scanned between their phone and the room until they settled on me.
“Ms. Viello?” he asked, stepping forward.
I nodded, standing up to take the package. I knew it was my new outfit, but I waited until he was gone to open it.
And thank goodness I did, because once I saw what was inside, I felt my eyes go wide and my face burn vermillion. There was no way he was expecting me to wear that, was he?
I couldn’t believe it. As terrible and uncomfortable as I had assumed the night would be, it had suddenly gotten a whole lot worse.
Fitz
My driver pulled up to the party just bordering on fashionably late. Truth be told, it had been hard to contain myself and not show up early. I wanted to see Ms. Viello in the outfit that I had picked out for her. To see her how she reacted to the sudden responsibility that I had thrown onto her.
It wasn’t hard to guess that she wasn’t exactly a party person. Despite her eye for detail in planning them, I was sure that she viewed them as wastes of time. Would she be livid when I met her? Or uncertain, clinging to my shadow all night for a bit of extra security? I could only hope.
I headed past the security we posted at the outside entrance then headed up the stairwell to the appropriate landing. I felt more excited, more alive than I had in ages, anticipation bubbling in my middle.
Was it really just a silly little assistant causing all this hubbub inside me? It didn’t seem probable, but when I spotted her just inside the entrance, clearly waiting for my arrival, it wasn’t like I could deny it.
She was wearing the dress that I had picked out for her, a hugging, emerald dress that was just casual enough for the party but just upscale enough for everyone around her to know that it wasn’t cheap. She was an absolute meal in it, her cleavage nearly spilling over the top and her wide, luscious hips taking the fabric to its absolute maximum.
Her legs were clad in the same plain, sensible stockings that she usually wore with her skirts in the office, but her feet were decked in black, velveteen wedges that I hadn’t seen her wear before. Had those just been in her purse, or had she had one of the many other assistants go fetch them for her?
