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event.
    Wiley’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
    “Drew got an invite. I’m his plus one,” I said, answering the question on her face.
    “Oh, Gwen is not going to like that.” Her face turned sour.
    “I’m not going to like what?”
    I cringed and leaned over to look past Wiley to confirm it was her. Sure enough, there Gwen stood in all of her perfectly coiffed and surgically enhanced glory. Gwen sauntered over to her desk across from mine in her skin-tight pencil skirt and plunging V-neck sweater showing off the assets daddy bought for her eighteenth birthday. She stomped across the floor in her silver-tipped Prada heels so hard, I was shocked the thin stiletto didn’t snap.
    I rolled my eyes and turned back to my computer. Wiley pushed off my desk and, with a sympathetic smile, she quickly shuffled back to her office in the basement.
    Before Gwen could unleash her wrath on me, Madeline swept in to the room in her usual cloud of Chanel. “Good morning, ladies,” she sang with a bright smile.
    Madeline was amazing, sharp as a tack and unbelievably talented. She had a classic elegance that commanded respect. I so wanted to be her when I grew up. She glided past us and into her office, shaking out of her cream blazer. Gwen practically sprinted to retrieve it from her before I could even reply to Madeline’s good morning. Kiss ass .
    “Good morning, Ms. Grant,” Gwen and I said simultaneously, glaring at each other when Madeline’s back was turned.
    “Ladies, are we ready to present your proposals for the Ashland?”
    “Of course, Ms. Grant. Ready when you are,” Gwen replied with way too much enthusiasm.
    “Fabulous. We will meet in the conference room at one. Are there any messages?”
    I quickly jumped in, knowing Gwen hadn’t had a chance to check Madeline’s e-mails. “Your dress for the gala is ready to be picked up. Mr. Donovan asked to see samples of the stained glass for the window by the front staircase, so I sent him the sketches and color options.” I looked at my message pad, doing my best to stay professional while inwardly rolling my eyes. “And Senator Stevens is looking forward to seeing you Friday evening.”
    “Daddy is so thoughtful.” Gwen beamed.
    To her credit, Madeline ignored the comment completely. “Thank you, Ms. McCabe,” she said, taking the message slips I offered. Then she dismissed us with a wave of her hand.
    Gwen stomped her way back to her desk. I swear, for someone who paid a lot of money to a personal trainer and more likely a plastic surgeon, you would think she could walk without sounding like a herd of stampeding elephants.
    “So sorry you won’t be joining us Friday, Alex. It really is a shame you will miss the gala, again .” She smirked.
    “Actually, I will be attending this year. I was invited by a friend.” I tried and failed not to sound smug. She stopped typing and gaped at me like my hair had suddenly burst into flames.
    Alex: 1, Bitchface: 0
    “Lucky you.” She sneered at me, pursing her overly plump lips.
    Ping, ping . I picked up my phone.
     
    Drew: What’s for dinner?
     
    Alex: Got me, what’s in your fridge? Duck Sauce and Batteries?
     
    Drew: No, smartass. What are YOU making me for dinner?
     
    I smiled.
     
    Alex: Quesadillas?
     
    Drew: I’ll bring Jose!
     
    I smiled to myself, thinking about the first night we spent with Jose.
    When one o’clock came around, I was stuck on a conference call with a wallpaper wholesaler. Gwen beat me to the conference room and already had her boards and samples set up on the table. She grinned at me like she’d already won. I took a seat as Madeline breezed through the door.
    “Okay, ladies, let’s see what you got.”
    She took her seat at the table, signaling for Gwen to begin. I looked at her presentation boards. She went with what I assumed was a Moroccan theme with a gold leaf wall paper and deep purple drapes pooling on the floor. The whole concept was Arabia meets Moulin Rouge.