“Is it that obvious?” I ask.
“Everyone’s nervous on their first day.” She adjusts her perfectly straight blouse. “Just remember, Mr. Rossi values competence and discretion above all else. As long as you stay organized and don’t overstep, you’ll be fine.”
Don’t overstep.
Got it.
Just be invisible and efficient.
The elevator opens directly onto the 28th floor, and I’m immediately struck by how different it is fromthe sterile corporate lobby downstairs. The hallway has abstract art hanging from the brown-painted walls, while floor-to-ceiling windows offering inviting views of the Hudson River. The air smells faintly of coffee and air freshener.
A glass door with “Rossi Industries” etched into it stands between us and the main office. Cressida swipes her badge and it clicks open.
Behind a sleek reception desk sits possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in real life. She’s got this whole effortless glamour thing going on with perfect bone structure, glossy dark hair, and a body that probably has its own Instagram account. She’s wearing a dress that manages to be both professional and devastatingly flattering.
I immediately feel like a potato in a blazer.
God.
“Piper,” Cressida says. “This is Bree Dawson, Mr. Rossi’s new executive secretary.”
Piper looks up from her computer screen, and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Welcome to Rossi Industries.”
There’s something in her tone. Not quite hostile, but definitely not friendly either. Like she’s assessing me and finding me wanting.
“Thanks,” I say. “Happy to be here.”
Liar, my brain supplies helpfully.
“I’ll give her the tour,” Piper says, standing up and smoothing her dress. “You can get back to Elspeth.”
Cressida nods and disappears down a hallway, leaving me alone with Piper and her perfect everything.
“So,” Piper says, coming around the desk. “Let me showyou around.”
She leads me through the office with the kind of efficient boredom that suggests she’s done this a thousand times and finds it only slightly more interesting than watching her manicured nails dry. We pass an open workspace where people are already at their computers, a break room (or I guess kitchen?) with a coffee maker, vending machine, and a fridge, and several offices with nameplates I don’t recognize.
“Conference room,” she says, gesturing to a glass-walled space with a massive table. “Board room is down the hall. You probably won’t need to go in there unless Mr. Rossi asks you to take notes during meetings.”
She makes “take notes” sound vaguely insulting.
We pass more offices. She rattles off names and titles I’m definitely not going to remember. CFO. General Counsel. VP of Communications. Everyone seems busy and important and completely uninterested in the new secretary.
Finally, we reach a desk positioned just outside a corner office with floor-to-ceiling glass walls.
“This is you,” Piper says, gesturing to the desk like she’s presenting a consolation prize.
It’s nice, actually. Better than nice. There’s a new computer setup, a filing system that looks recently organized, and a small potted plant that someone thought to include.
There’s an office directly behind it. Glass walls.
“Mr. Rossi’s office,” Piper says. She opens the door and steps inside the currently unoccupied office, gesturing for me to follow. “He prefers the glass walls because he likes to see what’s happening on the floor. But watch this.”
She walks to a sleek panel on the wall near his desk and taps it. The glass immediately clouds over,transforming from crystal clear to opaque white in about two seconds.
“Smart glass,” she explains, tapping again to make it transparent once more. “He controls it from in here when he needs privacy for calls or meetings. Pretty cool, right?”
“Nice,” I comment.
