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8
E L L A
Somewhere in the world, people got the weekends off, but with the
Crowne Jewels driving the city into a fashion frenzy, everyone showed up
to the Papillion offices. Michelle, the receptionist, was juggling a phone
ringing off the hook when she held her hand out for me.
“Bianca,” she mouthed while pointing at me. “Office.”
I waved and bounced up the stairs because… sure, I had time for a
meeting before I got married.
In her top floor office, Bianca stood behind her desk, waiting with her
fingers splayed over the glass. The closet containing my father’s most
beautiful and valuable gowns was half-open, taunting me. I didn’t have the
code.
I started to close the door, but my stepmother stopped me. “Open door
policy, Ella.”
The large space that housed the design department was on the other
side. Most of the team was out, but a few stragglers had come in to catch
up.
“Sit,” Bianca said, opening her hand toward the empty chair like a
hostess at a car show.
I sat and put my hands in my lap, knowing that—by lunch—she
wouldn’t talk to me as if I was a trained puppy. “Yes?”