Cecily gasps with joy. “You deceitful little trollop, congrats!”
“I’m not gonna go, though.” I click the call onto speakerphone, undo my robe, and step into the dress.
“Why?” She goes to a whisper. “Was he ugly?”
I laugh thatthatis the only reason she assumes I wouldn’t go, my mind briefly slipping to his crossed arms under the fitted white shirt and his bright hazel eyes. “Definitely not ugly.”
“So you think he’s hot?”
I sigh defeatedly down the phone. “He has those kind of ooey-gooey eyes and nice floppy hair, but a guy is the last thing I need to be focusing on right now.”
I can practically feel her rolling her eyes over the phone. “Jess, you’re meant to be an assistant right now. Why not live a little?”
“Because my focus is on getting Spencer through this; he seemed stressed about it on the plane. I don’t want to just abandon him to go and flirt with some guy I’m never going to see again after this trip.” My fingers fiddle at the zip for a few seconds before pulling it shut.
“And where is my new boss, Spencer? He hasn’t posted anything on his Instagram story today. I was getting worried about him.”
I sigh, clicking the speaker off. “He’s on a complete social media ban while we’re here, and he’s hopefully behaving himself in his suite.” I never wanted to plaster my name all over Wyst. Who knows what investors had heard about the Malcolm incident or not. It always felt safer to fly under the radar. So we made Spencer new profiles and populated them with some Wyst content just to make sure anyone googling would be pointed in the right direction, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to give him free rein of them. “I’m going to pick him up in a second for the welcome drinks thing. Everything okay there?”
“Yeah, Pacha brought his daughter in today, and we taught him how to braid hair.” I can practically hear the smile on her face. “We also got an email from Dr. Bernie’s agent asking for a meeting about the collaboration. I’ve told them you are away on averyimportant business trip with Wyst investors and you will be back in a few days.”
“Okay, well... I guess that’s not the worst lie we’ve told this week.”
“So true—listen I’ve got to go. Instructor Talia has arrived, and you get publicly shamed if you’re late to your bike.”
“All right, thanks for the update,” I say.
Cecily sighs. “Just... make sure you don’t spend the entire trip stressing, okay? You deserve a break. You’ve made it this far, nobody there knows who you are, and you should let your hair down for once.”
My shoulders sag. “Maybe I’ll have a drink at the hotel bar after the first round of the competition tomorrow.”
“You go steady, girl! Okay got to go, kisses!”
The line clicks as Cecily hangs up, leaving me standing in front of the long skinny wardrobe mirror. My hair up in a French twist and makeup perfect for a day in court. I’m dressed like a CEO. I need to look like a casual but smart assistant, like Coffee Guy. He looked smart in a fitted shirt and trousers but not stuffy.
I pull my dark brown hair out of the claw clip, letting it dance over my shoulders and curve into curls at the ends. Finally, I swipe on some extra eyeliner and red lipstick for good measure, taking a picture in the mirror and sending it to Cecily with the caption “Hair? Down” before heading out the door.
Spencer’s suite has simple meringue-cream walls with white moldings, antique dark wood furniture, and the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.
Two beautiful sparkling chandeliers hang from the fresco ceilings, painted with cloudy skies. The small balcony hosts a twisted cast iron seating area with puffy cream pillows, overlooking Rome. Tops of the basilica, metal crosses, and two gods on chariots adorn the purple, orange, and pink dusk skyline. For the first time since arriving, I realize I’m actually in Italy. It’s like I’ve been on stress-induced autopilot since this morning... maybe since first receiving the invitation to come here.
My arms prickle with goose bumps from the cold evening air, listening to the sound of cars passing by below, doors opening and closing, and men in suits greeting one another as they step into the lobby. This feels like the start of something. Whether it’s good or bad, I haven’t decided yet.
Chapter 7
Business Account (WYST) BALANCE: £9,485.44
Personal Account BALANCE: -£1,986.62
Recent transactions:
Rome tourist tax: £17.12
From 9 a.m. the next morning, the hotel lobby is littered with men in suits. People have come from all over the world to take part in this competition. Some look like businessmen, gripping briefcases or delegating to a nodding gaggle of minions, while others seem more like journalists, gathering camera equipment or jotting things down on a notepad and sporadically looking back up to the person sermonizing about the benefits of AI integration. My chest tightens as I squeeze through the immovable crowd; this competition is going to be packed. As I emerge from the cloud of heavy cologne, I straighten my posture and adopt the “power walk” I saw on YouTube, hoping to give the air of someone who belongs here.
I stride past the front desk until I hear an “Excuse me, miss?”
My head turns back to see the same woman from yesterday waving at me from behind the concierge desk. “Could you come here, please?” she asks.
