Life sucks when you're a twenty-six-year-old orphan. It sucks harder when you have to stay in a crappy apartment and feed a cat that hates your guts and hisses at you any chance it gets. It sucks even harder when you have to work for a jerk of a bos...
"Morning, Turner," I greet the temp receptionist who now stands in my place behind the front desk in the lobby.
Her name is Jessica Turner and she's a gorgeous dark-skinned woman with short blonde hair and killer legs.
She worked in the twelve-floor before she was temporarily demoted to replace me while I took Tashi's place as Mr. Rye's assistant.
I thought she would resent me but instead, every time I pass her by, she has this big beautiful and gentle smile on her face and I always return it effortlessly.
But this morning, her smile is replaced with an open mouth of clear shock as I wave at her and strut past her desk.
"Morning, Lambert," she finally says back as she watches the elevator doors close me in.
I look different, I know it.
It looks like someone gave me a makeover overnight.
Well, I gave myself a makeover.
I'm no longer, the "frumpy and awkward ponytail girl." Yes, I heard someone call me that once here.
But then, I couldn't fault them, it was expected because it was the way I carried myself.
But now, as much as I don't want to admit it, the way everyone's eyes are on me, I feel like Ms. Eva Paris; with my long red hair hanging low down my back, my hips swaying as I walk like I own the place.
I can almost understand the confidence that Eva Paris exudes. She's a supermodel, she won the gene pool lottery, plus she's a world-famous fashion icon. All of those combined must inflame her ego greatly, and with inflamed ego comes top confidence.
The sweet thing I've discovered is, the clothes you wear not only change the way you feel but also the way you walk and carry yourself and over time, you can actually start to feel the confidence that you portray on the outside starting to catch up with you on the inside.
Today, it feels like I'm breathing a whole new air into my being.
The wind blows differently, as if it tries to please with its direction, the sun shines on me in a way I appreciate for once and even though my feet are killing me in these brand new high heels, I've never walked straighter and my hips have never moved with such an effortless sway to them. And to my pleasant surprise, I haven't fallen once today, it seems, with confidence comes less clumsiness.
Mr. Rye will be in his office pretty much all of today, so in my hand, I have his breakfast. I've gone through and responded to all of his emails first thing this morning after I woke up, and I sent out all the dossier he needs to sign. I'm doing a damn fine job if I do say so myself. Tashi will be proud of me when she calls at the end of the week to check in.
Above all, I want to be prudent for when Tashi comes back from maternity leave, I don't want to disappoint her. I want her to come back, finding that her job is still here and that I didn't ruin everything.
The last thing she will need after the arrival of a first baby is more stress.
And I don't want her to ever feel regret over having given me this opportunity.
The elevator doors open to let us out but it's not my floor. I'm only riding with one guy but he's not leaving the car.
I frown and clear my throat before carefully, I look up at him, only to discover that he's looking right at my generous chest.
I don't have cleavage, as that would be way too bold for me. But Harper did manage to convince me to buy a miraculous bra that basically pushes up my large breasts up and make me look like an aspiring porn star even without me revealing any skin.
I stand there, my heart beating loudly as the elevator door closes and the guy is still in here with me.
What is his deal?
In addition to the high heels, I'm wearing a pair of lace top stockings that cover my legs in a particularly alluring fashion that even I can't deny it. It took me five minutes to clasp the whole thing on me this morning
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before I wore this medium-length pencil skirt.
I used to wear skin-colored, unflattering tights under my clothing because I hated how pale my legs looked, but I decided that I don't want to miss a beat with these sexy-how-to magazine articles, they're my new handbook.
"Sir, is this your floor...?' I ask clearing my throat. The man looks like he's about to be choked by his suit. His red face turns immediately as if just realizing that he's been staring at me for a straight minute.
He smiles awkwardly as he nods. "Thank you," he murmurs before quickly leaving.
"Hold!" A hand slides between the closing doors and Andrew walks in.
"Hey, Drew!"
Sugarcu... Whoah. Um, wow, I—"
"Great morning, don't you think?"
"I don't—, Sugarcubes, you look incredible... I mean, not that you don't look good every other day, I mean...?
Can you believe our girl has finally let her hair down?
Thank you for keeping up with this story.
Another update will be posted soon on Radish. So watch out for it. It will during the next weeks.
In the meantime, tell me how you think Damien will act to the different Miss Lambert?
And do you thinkDrew has a chance at all with Miss Lambert? Do you want him to?
