I flatten out my black pencil skirt that’s held together by safety pins at the side of my hips. My crimson pumps are borrowed from Izzy’s—my bestie’s—fabulous and expensive wardrobe. I couldn’t help but throw a little color into this suit-and-tie world. If I could, I would have chosen a bubblegum-pink dress with rainbow knee-high socks, but in the corporate world, bright colors are banned like wearing white after Labor Day. My clothes come from Goodwill, and when I want to splurge, I shop at Family Dollar. It doesn’t bother me that I live in a shoebox apartment in the dumps of the Lower East Side, and I don’t care about money in the way the greedy world does. I just want enough to be able to get what I need, which isn’t a lot.

Finally, the metal doors ding open, I step out, and chatter overloads my ears. I rush past the receptionist and empty security desk. My heels click against the black-and-white tiles with the letter U carved in the middle of the floor. People are heading out the revolving doors as if the building is on fire.

As I open the thick glass door that’s connected to a café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and ground beans assaults my nostrils hard enough to choke the living crap out of me. Laughter bounces off the eggshell-colored walls, and people in business suits relax at high, brown tables as they focus on their tablets and laptops. The pink chalk on the blackboard that reads “Buy one smoothie and get one free” is the only color that brightens this shop.

This place is as alive as a rock concert.

The line is so long my back is pressed to the door. I stand behind a guy in a gray suit with his phone glued to his ear.

The only good thing about working at the Underwood Banking Headquarters is getting discounts on certain coffee shops, chain restaurants, and their gym.

If I had a choice to be anything but a personal assistant, I would be a pastry chef with my own bakery, slapping smiles on customers’ faces with my sweet treats. But, sadly, student loans from an incomplete degree bury me in a mountain of debt, keeping me from opening my own business.

So I’m stuck waiting for the next chapter to come.

I’ve been working for the wolf in the suit for a whole two months, and it hasn’t been a walk in a park.

I can’t do anything right.

Last week, he dang near bit my head off because I didn’t tell the delivery guy to make sure his steak didn’t touch his mac and cheese, so he tossed the food into the trash and made me reorder his lunch.