Day 7 at the job: no more sighting of scandals and no more intruding into board meetings petitioning her lot, Gianna mused, twerking her pencil.
If anything she enjoyed her work—enjoyed it too much. Even more so now that she had submitted the final sketch of the raving piece about three hours ago to Daphne.
The appropriate teams will be set as tigers on making it, the woman had assured her, ensuring it was completed before or days after the convention. She couldn't wait to see the piece physically, to touch it.
She smiled, eyes catching the other design which would be the next sensation—the one that would be her entry during the convention.
Needed more work, yes, but her hands felt jiggy, excited at the prospect of that night, and at the prospect of her friend returning to the country this weekend.
