Read Somewhere in Between (Madison Square #1) for Free Online

morning, I woke up to the sound of my alarm, the fog horn. Just one more thread in a string of bad ring tone decisions. I showered quickly, then blow dried my hair in an attempt to tame the frizz. I put on just enough makeup to look presentable and dressed quickly in my vintage cigarette pants, a polka dot blouse, and some comfy ballet flats.
    I never go overboard for work. The job requires professional attire, but as an interior designer, I spend most of my days in musty carpet stores and construction sites covered in drywall dust. Usually, by the end of the day, I end up looking like I just went through a desert.
    I ran through today’s projects in my head and mapped out my schedule for the morning on the walk to work. After college, I landed my dream job with Madeline Grant Interiors. I met Madeline when she was a guest lecturer for my Introduction to Sustainable Design class. She told us that interior design required a gift that couldn’t be taught. That day, she became my personal god, and when I found out she was looking for an associate designer to join her firm, I camped outside her office for three days until she finally agreed to review my portfolio. She said if I was half as talented as I was persistent, then I had the job. She flipped through three pages and told me I was hired.
    I could already tell that this week was going to be hell, but I was excited to present my proposal for the Ashburn Hotel to Madeline. She asked me and another designer to do a storyboard for the Ashburn Hotel lobby. We were supposed to present them to her today. The best idea would be pitched to the client.
    She provided us with a color story and samples for the direction she was going in to ensure that the lobby was consistent with the overall look of the hotel, but she gave us a lot of freedom and encouraged us to think outside the box. Basically, may the best woman win, and I fully intended to.
    My competition, if you could even call her that, was Gwen Stevens. My hatred for Gwen ran deep. Just the sound of her name made me cringe. It was painfully obvious to everyone in the office that she got her position because of daddy’s money and connections rather than actual talent. She followed her lack of actual skill with a bitchy attitude and a complete disregard for the people around her. Her Botoxed, overly made-up face seemed to be fixed in a permanent sneer when Madeline wasn’t looking, earning her the nickname Bitchface.
    I got to the office a bit earlier than usual so I could have some extra time to prepare for the presentation. I rounded the corner to my desk, set my bag down, and turned on my laptop.
    “Coffee?”
    I looked up to see Wiley thrusting a large cup toward me. Wiley was a textile designer working for the firm. We were famous for our exclusive prints and textiles, largely thanks to Wiley. She was unique, to say the least, bohemian, and artsy. She wore her dark brown hair in dreadlocks and her fingers were always stained with ink or paint.
    “Thanks.” I smiled and took the cup from her long fingers that were already tinted green. In my hurry to get to the office, I left without making my coffee, a sure sign I was losing my mind. Wiley had just saved my life.
    She rested a hip on the side of my desk, holding on to her own cup. “So, what’s new?”
    I leaned back in my desk chair with my coffee and smiled up at her. “Not much. Just got invited to the Rags & Riches gala on Friday.” I shrugged and waited for her excitement to bubble to the surface.
    “What? Madeline finally invited you? That’s amazing!” she cried, her eyes widening.
    I set my coffee down on my desk. “No, Gwen is still going. The cow has her lips surgically attached to Madeline’s ass.” Madeline was invited every year to the gala, and I prayed for the chance to go as her guest. Unfortunately for me, that honor always went to Gwen, since her father, Senator Lawrence Stevens, was a member of the arts council who sponsored the