Worthless In Their Eyes, Perfect In His

Chapter 8

I still played his words in my head. ‘You aren't allowed to leave your front desk during work.’

The way he scolded me made me feel uneasy through the rest of the day. His tone was cold, firm and final.

By the time evening came, and the curtains of Vixen Couture closed for the day, I thought the day's stress was over, but it wasn't.

I dropped the office tablet and finally picked my phone which had been silenced and buried in the depths of my bag. I stared at six missed calls, all of them from Sandra. A message followed as well: ‘Please bring your work ID home. Urgent.’

My brows knitted into a frown. Sandra's request made no sense at all. IDs were left at the company's gate with the security and collected in the morning. Why would she need mine?

I tried calling her back, but she didn't answer. My chest tightened as I wondered if it was possible to sneak past the gate without dropping the card.

I shoved my phone and ID into my bag. Whatever Sandra's plans were, I had a feeling it wasn't good.

I smuggled my ID out effortlessly. The security at the gate didn't even bat an eyelid when I walked past. Maybe he thought I didn't work here.

When I got back to Sandra's place, she was pacing around restlessly in heels, dressed like she was about to attend a red carpet. She rushed over, gripping my hands. “Ruby, thank God you arrived. I need you tonight.”

“What's going on?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She inhaled deeply and released her grip on me. “You have your ID right?”

I dipped my hand into my bag and brought out the square card.

“Perfect. You have to dress as one of the managers at Vixen Couture and vouch for me at this meeting. Please, this is my only chance to bag a fashion designing contract.”

I froze, her words sounding funny to my ears. “What?”

“Ruby, listen. The client wants credibility. They want someone high to stand for me. If I walk alone, I look like a nobody, but if I walk with you as the manager of Vixen Couture, it changes everything.”

“This is insane.” I pulled my hands that she held back. “Sandra, I know nothing about faking. I'm not doing this.”

Her lips trembled and she looked at me with pleading eyes. “Please. One dinner just for tonight. If I lose this chance, I lose everything. You have to help me.”

I took a deep breath and stared at her. I owed Sandra a lot. She had always dreamed too big, and this was her only chance to live the dream.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But if this blows up in our face, then it's on you.”

She threw her hands in the air and squealed, then hugged me tightly and pushed me to a chair. “You won't regret this.”

She was already emptying her makeup bag. Ten minutes later, bold makeup framed my face, heavier than I'd ever worn. My hair was styled to add sharpness to my usually soft features. The makeup gave me a boss lady kind of look.

I managed one of my dresses that didn't look bad like the rest.

The restaurant was fairly lit with yellow bulbs which gave it a soft glow. The air was thick with exotic drinks, roasted meat and perfume. Sandra led me to a table where two young women sat elegant and poised, with an older man by their side.

Sandra introduced herself and I played along, struggling to keep my head high, my ID resting in my purse.

Eleanor, one of the women, was the first to throw a question at me. “And you are?”

I forced a smile, hoping that my voice won't shake. “Ruby Philips. One of the managers at Vixen Couture.” I followed the statement by showing them my ID, lucky that it hadn't been written on the card that I was a receptionist.

Eleanor smiled. “Interesting. It means you know Sandra a lot.”

“I do. I've even worked with her. She's extremely good with her designs. She even designed this.” I lied, standing up for them to see the dress which I wore.

The other woman nodded her head. For a moment, everything seemed to be going well. The conversation flowed. The clients hinted at giving Sandra the contract, and Sandra beamed with confidence.

“Just one second,” Eleanor interrupted as she glanced up from her phone. “Excuse me, I need to bring a friend inside.” She stood up and walked towards the door.

I barely glanced up or involved myself in the conversation Sandra had with the other two, until Eleanor returned.

My heart raced as I saw who she returned with.

“This is Malcolm.” Eleanor introduced. So that was his name, Malcolm Smith. My throat dried and I stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with him. What trouble had I gotten myself into? The man who scolded me hours ago now stood in front of me.

My body trembled and I leaned towards Sandra, whispering through clenched teeth, “I'm in trouble. This man is my boss at work.”

Her eyes widened, and as panic consumed me, I lifted my head to see Malcolm's gaze locked with mine.

He was calm and unreadable as Eleanor introduced me and Sandra. Then to my utter surprise, he smiled. “I know Miss Ruby Philips very well.” My heart sank as he continued, “And I can assure you, her friend, Sandra is the best for the job.”

My jaw slackened. What was he doing?

“I'm not,” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I mean, I am a friend of Mr. Malcom.” I stuttered, forcing a light laugh to cover my nervousness.

Why was he lying for me? Why was he helping us?

The meeting wrapped quickly after that. Sandra smiled when the contract was handed to her. She shook everyone's hands, thanking them profusely. Meanwhile, I sat stiff, hardly tasting the wine in front of me.

When it was over, Malcolm walked to me. “You do realize I should penalize you for using the company ID to pose as who you aren't.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

He moved slightly closer, his tone a bit softer now. “But I'd save it for when we meet at work.”

Without waiting for my response, he shifted his attention to Eleanor and the others.

My insides lurched as I wondered what penalty awaited me tomorrow.