Isla Accardo falls into the stereotype of the girl that binge-watches Netflix series and eats pizza for every meal. She classifies sleeping as her career and swearing her nature. But Isla was not one to fall into male's traps.
Especially Damien Pier...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
"We need to go shopping for new outfits — actually we have to revamp your whole closet," Erin paces around my bedroom, with a dazed grin.
"We don't need to do any of that."
She pauses and throws me an incredulous, pitiful look, "Isla I had to admit it but your wardrobe is drier than the Sahara. It consists of tracksuits and hoodies."
I fix the collar of my button up, frowning, "Not true, I'm clearly not wearing that," I point out, gesturing to my jeans and shirt, "Besides, what's wrong with having a wardrobe only consisting of that?"
"Everything if you're working for Damien Pierce," she snorts, resting on my bed.
"You know what, I'm going to pretend you didn't utter those words." I scowl, shoving on my heeled boots and snatching my vibrating phone.
I don't appreciate tardiness, Ms Accardo.
My scowl intensifies once I read his message. I had to remind myself that this was all for my parents and nothing else — and maybe me with the large sum of money I'd soon be receiving. I worked in customer service and dealt with annoying customers. It was like they were my preparation for the storm I'd run into.
"I can do this," I repeat to myself, fixing my hair in the mirror. I ignore the dumbfounded face of Erin being reflected in the mirror. I turn to her, "Wish me luck."
"Tell me everything that happens, verbatim," She winks at me, "And tell me what cologne he uses."
I narrow my gaze, "We'll see."
Not wanting to indulge in her antics any further, I leave my apartment and start my car. Sure enough, I reach the grand building in under twenty-five minutes, the valet parking my car. The Pierce building ws more of a multitude of buildings conjoined into one. The main lobby was clear with the golden edged revolving door and security lined around the entrance.
Upon entry, I realised how wealthy Damien Pierce was.
The tiles were marbled white, reflecting perfectly my figure as the bright white lights illuminated the open room. The front desk was built in a crescent shape, four employees are answering ringing phone calls and typing rapidly. There were more people than I thought working and running around here, the corner cafe store decorated with huddles of people and some alone, sipping on ceramic mugs.
I get nudged aside as a large delivery full of clothes and mannequins enters into the building, getting directed by a woman to enter into one of the several elevators.
The woman's eyes frantically meet mine, doing a double take, "You're new here."
I curl my hair behind my ear, focusing on her and not the commotion surrounding us, "Yeah...I'm actually the new assistant?"
