Ten Years Later
Fallon Braxton had prior experience as a secretary, and her posh English accent only heightened the impression of competence—exactly the sort of polish Sera Elganza and Ennio Fabrizi demanded. I first came across her résumé on Indeed and tucked her profile away in my Emergency Candidates folder.
When I started at Sera Elganza, it took me six months to realize why Madam Lorenski had been so eager to hire me. It wasn't my design background, unfortunately. She was simply desperate to retire, and the only way she could was by finding a replacement—or by dropping dead at her desk. As I soon discovered, everyone in Los Angeles knew about Mr. Fabrizi's reputation. And not a single soul on the job market wanted to work as his secretary.
Except naïve me, who never bothered to dig up dirt on this narcissistic, arrogant tyrant who demanded everything be done his way. It's a miracle people still buy from his company. The truth is, most of our clientele date back to when his mother ran the company. She's warm, charming, and genuinely beloved. His parents, in fact, are both lovely people. Which only begs the question: what went wrong with him?
Spoiled, detached, and oblivious to other people's feelings—Mr. Fabrizi is a case study in arrogance. I've tried to rationalize it. He's gone on countless blind dates—though arranged by his mother—and yes, surprisingly, with women. Maybe he's in the closet. Maybe that explains his prickliness. Either way, he needs therapy, and I need a permanent outlet for my stress.
Should I blame his parents for spoiling him? Maybe. Maybe not. His brother, Donni Fabrizi, turned out fine—I think. I briefly met him once when he had to swing by Sera Elganza. He owns Style Sphere, the men's tailoring fashion house—the same company where I scrubbed floors a decade ago. Rumor has it Mr.Donni has an opening for a proposal designer. An addition to that, I know a few of the Style Sphere women. Sometimes, both fashion houses cross paths at company dinners. The extroverts bump into each other more often than not—usually during shopping trips or club nights in Hollywood.
My mingling, however, always had a different angle. While my coworkers chased hookups and fun, I networked. And now, I'm done. I'm getting out of Sera Elganza whether Mr. Fabrizi likes it or not. He'll survive. Maybe. Fallon Braxton can take over brushing his teeth and spoon-feeding him when he's sick the way I've been forced to over the past ten years.
Thanks to Madam Lorenski's advice, I've saved enough. The pay cushioned the years of torment, and I finally managed to rent a cozy home in Encino with proper cages for Aunt Milly's pets—mercifully away from my belongings. I even upgraded our cars; nothing flashy, just neat little Mini Coopers. But, yes—life at home feels comfortable now. All that's left is to break the news. After this last event I'm required to attend, I'm gone. If Style Sphere doesn't pan out, that's fine too. I have options. I have a reputation. And this time, I'm choosing freedom.