Page 11 of Access

ANONYMOUS: Hey, you know Gina?

MADISON: The hard-charging Ms. Gina Sawyer? Mr. Drake’s VP of Human Capital?

ANONYMOUS: So, you know her. Great.

Madison seized the opportunity to get a clue as to the identify of her mystery pen pal.

MADISON: Yes. How do you know her?

ANONYMOUS: Gina and I go waaay back. We’ve worked together for years.

Well that wasn’t much of a clue.

ANONYMOUS: Anyway, I left something for you with her. She leaves at five today, so you’ll have to get it before she goes. Gotta run.

And with that, Mr. Anonymous again signed off. Her line of sight shifted from the Skype window to the time. As it neared five o’clock, she Skyped Gina’s assistant, requesting access to the Executive floor. Within moments, she received a confirmation her card was good to go.

The elevator doors opened as Madison arrived at the Executive Suite. Seeing Madison through the glass wall Gina stood, ready to greet her; a marked difference from their last encounter. Her assistant was gone, but Gina waved her in. “Good evening, Ms. Taylor.” Madison was usually the one on the service side of industry, so being addressed so formally by a superior threw her off.

“Please, call me Madison,” she said as she handed her a box of cookies.

“Thanks, Madison, how much do I owe you?” Gina asked, pulling up her purse.

“Not a thing. Seriously you’re saving me from myself. I’m already a sleeve deep in these scrumptious goodies. And let’s just say there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“Thanks, I’m starving. And there’s something waiting for you through those doors.” Gina didn’t skip a beat, tearing into the box of cookies as her phone buzzed. She glanced at the text. “Shit, my wife’s threatening to head to the restaurant without me. You can use the room to your heart’s content. Pretty much everyone’s gone.”

Pretty much? “So, who’s left?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Gina grabbed a card from her desk, handing it to Madison with one hand, while dialing her wife with her other. “Baby, I swear I’m on my way. No, I didn’t eat ...” she fibbed while choking down a cookie. And with that, Gina raced away.

Madison’s chance to ask about the identity of her mystery admirer vanished. Well, maybe this is the big reveal. She pulled the note out of the envelope, her intrigue building.

I’m batting 2-0 on you opening boxes,

so I guess I’ll go big or go home.

Try these on for size.

She headed through the door leading to some sort of washroom. But washroom definitely meant different things to different people.

Apparently, places that sold slushies and roller food had an entirely different genre of restroom—the polar opposite, in fact, of the fifty-second-floor executive lavatory. The space was a palace in and of itself. An Italian leather chaise rested in the center of a room with twenty-foot ceilings, while mahogany walls were intermittently graced by floor to ceiling mirrors. Looking around, she realized the actual toilets and sinks were down a small corridor, with private stalls enclosed by stately arched wooden doors. Gilded fixtures were tastefully abundant. On the chaise were two boxes: one the size of a shoebox, and the other much larger.

Something about these boxes sparked feelings from her childhood at Christmastime, and she bounced to the largest first. The lid flew off quickly in her hands, and she separated the delicate layers of silver tissue. Inside she found a stunning, black lace dress, elegant and tempting. Pulling up the exquisite gown, she accidentally flipped the shoebox onto the floor. She retrieved it, hoping whatever was in it didn’t break.

Placing it on the chaise, she carefully opened it, as if the contents might jump out if she moved too quickly. The box was intricately rigged so as the top opened back, shoes lifted out with a little light illuminating them from the lid. The heels were secured with a small tension groove.

They’re beautiful. “Oh.” She clasped her mouth, then continued eyeing it like a curator. When she pulled them fully out of the box, her eyes popped; she was astonished in the most pleasant way. These were an exact replica of her shoes that broke when she’d interviewed with Gina. And they clearly weren’t her shoes in some miraculously repaired state. Despite her failed attempt at gorilla gluing them back together, she’d had to throw them away. And hers had been at least seven years old. These were a brand-new pair, devoid of a recognizable brand.

Enchanted with a child-like whimsy, she slipped them on. They fit perfectly. Judging by the soles, this pair had never touched the ground, yet fit like she’d worn them for years. I guess that makes me Cinderella. And as much as they worked with her suit, her Fairy Godfather had a gown ready to go, one that she was dying to try on. Here goes nothing.

She shed her corporate ensemble and pulled it on. The dainty lace melted onto her skin and hugged every curve, making a bra impossible to pull off. She promptly slipped it off, watching the design fall into place. Though not usually one to linger over her reflection, she couldn’t help admire what’d been put together. Her smile grew as her gaze worked its way up from the precious shoes to the beautiful gown. But the good vibes stopped abruptly at her face. Oh my God, what’s that? She squinted to look closer. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” Nothing says enchanté like thin mint in the teeth.

She didn’t have time to do anything at the moment, as a knock at the door spun her attention.

9

Battling a mild panic attack, Madison’s heart raced as her anxiety kicked into full swing. She touched the door handle but her hand stalled turning it. The slight rattle of her fingertips on the lever was enough to give her away. Alex could tell Madison was on the other side of the door, and she was hesitating. He softly called out in his naturally deep tone, “Madison?”

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