Madison

I end up staying a little bit later than my normal end time to finish getting the five outfits ready for Bryce. Between doing that, helping Glenn finalize a few outfits, and then rearrange some tables, I didn’t get a chance to fully focus on what he needs.

The moment I finish putting his outfits in a package, the elevator dings, and I ignore it. I add a little thank-you note to the package and set it aside before going to the computer and updating his file.

“Ms. Smith.”

A bitchy voice makes me stop typing and look up. Waiting behind the counter, in front of me, is the lovely Tiffany. Well, I have to do what they say—kill her with kindness.

“Good evening. Are you here for Bryce’s things?”

“Of course,” she answers and glares at me. “I hear that I’ll be handling this account, and whatever he needs, I’ll be the one who’ll let you know.” Tiffany opens her purse and takes out a card. Placing it on the counter, she slides it to me. “You can reach me via cell phone or email. Anything that deals with Mr. Hunter will become a priority. There will be no need to contact him.”

Since Bryce insisted I call him Bryce, then I will. I won’t refer to him as Mr. Hunter even though I should, especially since I want to remain professional, but something about pissing her off is making me giddy. “I’m glad he’s going with what I’m asking.”

“What you’re asking?” she repeats incredulously. “You don’t want to work with him?”

I shake my head. “It’s not that. I think that …” I pause and quickly think about what I’m about to say. Even though I don’t support his egotistical personality or the way he came on to me, I have to remember he’s a major client, and if we lose Bryce Hunter, then I’ll be out of a job for sure. “I think that since Bryce is constantly traveling or held up in meetings, it’ll be better if someone else handles what he needs.”

“I see.”

I don’t want to continue this conversation with her. I take the package in my hands, walk around the counter, and hand it to her.

“Whatever he doesn’t like or if he needs more, just let me know. I’ll be here tomorrow but will be off Friday, and I won’t be back until Tuesday.”

Tiffany doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, she continues her glower, and it’s taking everything in me not to roll my eyes and huff away.

“Okay, then. Have a great night,” I say with a fake smile, ready for this encounter to be over.

“You can drop the innocent act.”

“Pardon me?”

Tiffany sets the package down and crosses her arms over her chest. “Whatever game you think you’re playing won’t work. You’re not in his league nor will you ever be. He needs someone with standards and class, not someone who works as an assistant, making a low wage. Women like you only want one thing—money. Or maybe you want him for his connections. It doesn’t matter what your end game is; Bryce Hunter is off limits. Am I making myself clear?”

I raise my hands in surrender and keep my stance. “Whoa. You’re so far off base. If I wanted connections, then I’d have my father give those contacts to me, or he’d make it happen. My job as a personal fashion consultant pays well, and I get to focus on gaining the experience here. Don’t judge me based on what you think you know. As I said, have a great night and don’t hesitate to contact me if something comes up.”

The nerve of this uptight bitch. I don’t give her a second thought. Bitches like her get nasty when they feel threatened. I have no idea what her relationship is with Bryce, and I realize I don’t care. Being with Bryce means drama, and drama isn’t what I need in my life. Everything is right where I need it to be. I have a plan, and in order for that plan to become a reality, I need to stay focused. Who cares if Bryce wants me? Seriously, who cares.

* * *

I fly through Wednesday’s meetings.

The three-hour conference nearly killed me. The CEO wants more from our store since we’re the shining star—his words. He suggested more advertising on our part and approved an outrageous marketing budget. With new designs coming in, there was no reason we couldn’t get those outfits into our client’s hands. It wasn’t hard to persuade them, but it was exhausting work. I touched base with my top clients, then went down my list of referrals. Being a fashion consultant is similar to a saleswoman. I had to touch base and try to convince them they needed the outfits and went above and beyond for them. Our clients are the elites. They have money and want to look good, and it is our job to give that to them.

After the conference, I had to meet with a group from a consulting company. It lasted longer than I anticipated, but it was promising and positive. I put together their profiles and knew what I wanted to suggest.

Tiffany sends me an email, requesting I meet her at a nearby bistro. I hop in a cab and check my emails to make sure nothing is pressing. I take the time to relax and close my eyes. The hours I’m putting in are killing me. I know when I get my paycheck, it’ll be worth it, and I can show my dad I’m making the right decision with my career choices.

When the cab parks, I pay the fee and leave him a tip. After shutting the door, I walk into the bistro, telling the hostess I have a meeting with Tiffany Katz. She guides me through, and I see her. As soon as she sees me, the bitch claws are out. She’s glaring at me, crossing her arms over her chest, and has no emotion on her face. Well, if bitch is an emotion, then she wears it well.

Before I can sit down, she’s asking me about the newest Armani line. I take out the outfit examples and show her.

“None of these are going to work. Is there anything else?”

I give her a perplexed look. “These are the most popular designs. It’s up and coming.”

“Yes.” She sneers. “I know. Mr. Hunter needs new, and something no one will have. Isn’t there something under wraps with Armani’s designs?”

“Hold on. Let me check.” I take out my cell phone and thumb through my emails to see if Glenn mentioned anything upcoming. As I’m scrolling through, a text from Bryce comes in. Discreetly, I check it and keep my expression neutral.

Bryce: I know I’m supposed to keep this professional. Tiffany’s handling the account. I can’t stop thinking about you, Madison. Please don’t dismiss this.

Madison: Bryce, please. Don’t keep doing this. We’re different from one another. It’ll never work between us.

Bryce: Why? Tell me now.

Madison: There’s too much on the line.

The three bubbles pop up, and then disappears. I go back to my emails and see an incoming call. I press decline and put my phone down. Screen down. I don’t want Tiffany to discover Bryce is contacting me. Personally, I don’t care if she knows or not, but I don’t want to be involved in the ensuing drama.

“There’s nothing I can see. Once I’m back at the store, I can check with Glenn and let you know.”

“You do that,” she says, pointedly.

There’s silence between us. I want to know what the hell’s up her fucking ass and why she thinks it’s okay to treat me this way.

I place my hands on the table and lean in. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s your problem with me?”

She leans in as well. “Ever since you caught Bryce’s attention, all he does is wonder about you. You’ve got him twisted, and I have no idea why. You’re ordinary, and he’s not supposed to be with ordinary.”

“What the hell?” I hiss. “Who are you to say who he should be with?”

“I don’t like you. We know that. Woman to woman, sometimes a man uses a woman as a pawn in a game. You never know if you are one or not. In this case, you are. You are a pawn in this game he plays. He manipulates situations. He’s a powerful man with means to everything he wants. Everything he needs. Why would he lower himself to someone like you?”

Someone needs to slap this bitch. I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my wine. While holding my glass, I smirk at her. “You’re trying to scare me, but it won’t work. What you don’t realize is I have no interest in Bryce. None. Your warning and getting between my client and me is futile.”

She smirks and uncrosses her arms so she can place her forearms on the table to lean forward even further. “Once the truth comes out, don’t come crying to me. I won’t have any sympathy for you,” she warns, and I take it with a grain of salt. The woman is simply jealous and for no reason.

Once I’m home and in a baggy shirt and ratty shorts, I pull out my laptop and organize the information I need in an Excel file. People think this job is nothing and shouldn’t be taken seriously. I’m working for one of the top department stores in the nation. The name comes with prestige. Our clients are wealthy. I may be their bitch, but I get to meet powerful people and make connections. This job is all about making a good impression and doing a damn good job—which I’m doing.

My phone rings, and I answer it without looking.

“Madison! Darling, how are you?”

I smile, hearing my aunt’s joyful voice. “Hi, Aunt Lynette. What’s up?”

“Just calling to see how you’re doing. Are you doing well? Eating? Sleeping? I worry about you, darling. You know I miss you. Why don’t you come out to California? We’ll go to wine country, enjoy life, and relax. You work too hard. I worry about you.”

“Why?” I laugh and curl up on the couch. “I promise I’m okay. As much as I’d love to visit you, right now isn’t a good time. Soon, though.”

“Well, I had lunch with Bethany and Hilda when they were here. They said they saw you working and were terribly confused. Whatever happened to that boyfriend of yours?”

“We broke up. Actually, he dumped me. I'd rather not talk about it, please.”

“Oh my darling. Forget him anyways. You're way too beautiful and smart to deal with idiots like that. Anyways, why are you working so hard? You have an inheritance, and you have an opportunity to help run your father’s company. Why are you going down this path?”

“I have no interest in working with him. I want to make something of myself without his connections and help. You know how he can be. I went to school and earned a degree and I plan on using it by doing what I want.”

I hear the disapproving sigh. “Can you please be realistic, Madison? A woman of your status should be seeking a prominent position and being a part of your father’s company will do that for you. Then you’ll meet a successful man and be a stay-at-home wife, which will then lead to being a stay-at-home mother.”

Not going to lie, I cringe at the idea. I’m twenty-two years old. I don’t have a boyfriend anymore or any interest in dating. Marriage and the future are so far from my mind. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re my only niece. Of course, I’m going to worry about the well-being of my baby girl. Just know I’m here for you, okay? Your mother would be so proud of you. You’re so much like her. She loved working and didn’t like the idea of being a stay-at-home mom, but she was there for you for everything, wasn’t she?”

Thinking about my mom hurts. There’s a hole in my heart, and I know it’ll never fill.

“I know you are.” I smile and sit up on the couch. We discuss her day and what she’s been doing. The call ends with a promise of getting together when she comes to town in a few weeks.

Before I can put my phone down, I notice three text messages.

From Bryce.

Bryce: I’ve never had someone decline my phone call.

Bryce: The more you deny this … deny me … the more I’m going to desire you.

Bryce: One date. Let me start over and show you I want more than sex with you. Then if you truly despise me, I’ll leave you alone and truly allow you to solely work with Tiffany. I won’t bother you again.

This man will never stop, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t give in. There will be no date or anything of that nature.

“Ugh!” I turn off my phone and go into Kaylee’s room to watch a movie until I fall asleep.