“Oh, really? Because I thought that B.U.T. one was cute! Ellie in graphic design came up with that,” she said in her too-happy-for-Monday voice. “Get it? Like, B-U-T. Beauty?”

“I understand that,” Diana said with a wan smile, “But the last thing we want is anyone to associate Addict’s latest product with one’s derriere. Right?”

“Oh. Yes. I understand. Good point. I’ll tell him. Right away.”

“Thank you. See if they can come up with anything new before the morning meeting,” she said, depressing the button and sighing as she scooted forward in her leather executive chair. Opening her email, she started to go through the two hundred that Sandy had flagged for her as Urgent.

This was nothing new. She’d been the marketing director for Addict for over twenty years, almost since its inception, so now she ate, slept, and breathed the products. In the beginning when she was new to the company—though she’d been a marketing manager at Elizabeth Arden for ten years prior—Addict was young, hip, and fun; but now it was exclusive, refined, and sold at high-end boutiques. It had aged right along with the women it served. A few years ago, against Diana’s better judgement, they’d tried to take back some market share among teenagers, even hiring a young YouTube star as their spokesperson—and what a disaster that had been.

Now, Diana knew to trust her instincts. And her instincts were clearly saying N.O. to B.U.T. or any of their other less-than-buzzworthy ideas.

After tackling the first few emails, a meeting alert popped up on the corner of her computer screen, telling her it was time for the morning briefing. Leaving her mug on her desk, she grabbed her pen and blank pad and headed next door to the massive board room. On the way, she mentally ran through ideas for the mascara line. Lash Pump? Lethal Lengths? Incredi-Pop? Really, anything would be better than B.U.T.

Her staff was already assembled, chatting. They quieted down when she came in. She wasn’t sure if that was something they did around all the executives, out of respect, or just around her, out of fear. She tried to be relatable and fun—and thought they liked her, but a supervisor never could tell what her employees whispered about around the water cooler. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t there to be their friends. If they didn’t like her, they all did a good job of faking it, smiling and saying “good morning” as she sat at the head of the table.

As she pulled her chair in, she let out a sigh. Same scenery, different week.

“Hello, everyone. And how was your weekend?” she said, just as a formality. She didn’t care to know, and she sensed from their usual terse responses that they understood that.

They all nodded and added their own version of “too short.” Short? Really, they didn’t know the meaning of the word. At least they’d left the office for more than a few hours. Diana hadn’t. She’d stayed overnight Sunday into Monday, working on the new spreads for their Allure ad, and showered in the downstairs gym. She kept an entire closet of clothes in her office just for that purpose. So while her employees may have had lives outside of the Addict headquarters, Diana—well—didn’t. Not anymore, anyway.