The following morning, the apartment was a battlefield of cosmetics and frantic energy.
If it were up to Melissa, she would have been buried under her duvet until noon, but Ariana was a force of nature.
By the time the transformation was complete, Melissa stared at her reflection with a sense of profound alienation.
She was drowning in a modest, oversized dress, her face framed by thick, non-prescription glasses that made her feel like a caricature of a librarian.
"You look beautiful," Sunny encouraged, adjusting Melissa's collar.
"Oh, please. I look like a freak of nature," Melissa grumbled, poking at the heavy frames sliding down her nose.
"Is everyone set?" Ariana asked, her voice brimming with a terrifying level of optimism.
"Kill me now," Melissa muttered.
"Let's move," Sunny commanded. "We're going to be late."
They piled into a cab, the atmosphere inside shifting into a strategy meeting.
"Don't forget, Ariana," Sunny noted, "your role is casual, carefree, blending into the background."
"Got it," Ariana chirped.
"And Melissa," Sunny turned her attention to the 'librarian,' "you need to be the cute, shy, intimidated young lady. Vulnerable. Harmless."
"I hate everything about that sentence," Melissa snapped.
The cab pulled up to the glass-and-steel monolith of a massive corporate headquarters.
Melissa climbed out, feeling the weight of the disguise.
"Break a leg!" Ariana called out.
"But not literally," Sunny added.
"Sure thing," Melissa waved back, taking a breath and stepping into the lion's den.
Inside, the lobby smelled of expensive perfume and cold professionalism.
Melissa approached the reception desk with a practiced, timid gait.
"Uh, good morning," she said, her voice soft and hesitant.
The receptionist didn't even look up, her fingers flying across a keyboard.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her tone dripping with unearned arrogance.
"Well, I'm here because I applied for the job and I was accepted," Melissa explained politely.
The receptionist finally glanced at her, her eyes raking over Melissa's frumpy attire with a sneer.
"I wasn't informed about that, love. You can return when you actually have an appointment."
Melissa felt the 'vulnerable' mask crack. She leaned forward, her hands slamming onto the desk with a crack that echoed through the lobby.
The receptionist gasped, jumping back.
"Look, bitch," Melissa's voice had dropped an octave, turning cold and menacing.
"I don't have time for the games you're playing. I am here for my interview. If you don't let me see your boss right now, I will put this pen so deep into your throat you'll lose your fucking voice permanently. Do you understand me?"
The receptionist's face went bone-white. Her hand trembled as she pointed toward the elevators.
"H... He's upstairs. Floor 28."
"Thank you," Melissa said, her voice instantly returning to a sweet, melodic chirp. She turned on her heel, leaving the woman shivering in her wake.
"Vulnerable and weak my ass," Melissa whispered to herself as the elevator doors hissed shut.
She reached the 28th floor and knocked calmly on the mahogany doors of the executive suite. Silence.
She knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.
Pushing the door open, her heart dropped. A man was sprawled on the floor, his face twisted in a mask of agony as he struggled to pull air into his lungs.
Melissa didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees beside him, her eyes darting across the room until she spotted an unused auto-injector lying just inches from his hand.
"Am I supposed to give this to you?" she asked urgently.
The man gave a frantic, weak nod.
Melissa grabbed the syringe, jammed it into his thigh, and held it until the mechanism clicked.
She then pulled his head into her lap, resting it against her chest.
"It's okay," she murmured, stroking his hair with a calm, steady rhythm.
"Everything is going to be fine. Just take deep breaths. Follow my lead. In... and out."
The man clung to her dress like a drowning sailor to a raft. Melissa sighed to herself.
This isn't what I expected on day one. Finding the boss dying on the carpet.
Minutes passed, the medication doing its work until the man's breathing leveled out and he drifted into an exhausted sleep against her.
Melissa looked down at him, then at the distant couch.
"How the fuck am I supposed to carry a grown man over there?" she whispered to the empty room.
The door swung open again. A man—Roberto—burst in, looking frazzled.
"Antonio! Why aren't you answering the damn phone, you dick—" He stopped dead, staring at the scene on the floor.
"What happened?"
"I don't know," Melissa said, looking up from her position on the floor.
"I came for an interview and found him gasping for air."
Roberto groaned, rubbing his temples.
"That's why I've been telling this asshole to get a secretary. What if this happens when no one is around? Wait... you're here for the interview? The one I emailed?"
"Yes, sir," Melissa answered.
"You're hired," Roberto said instantly. "Now help me get him to the couch."
Together, they heaved the unconscious Antonio onto the cushions. Melissa straightened her glasses.
"I didn't get your name, sir."
"I'm Roberto. I run the car firm downstairs. This fool is your boss, Antonio," Roberto explained.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Melissa."
"It's a good thing you showed up," Roberto said, looking at his friend.
"He's a mess. Allergic to everything—shrimp, roses, coffee, even strawberries."
"Roses and strawberries?" Melissa asked, incredulous.
"How does he even survive in the real world?"
"He manages. Or he doesn't, clearly," Roberto sighed.
"Anyway, I have to go. I wanted to punch his fucking face for ignoring my calls, but I can't hit an 'innocent baby' while he's down." He handed Melissa a business card.
"Call me if you need anything."
After Roberto left, Melissa sat on the floor beside the couch, watching Antonio. He was undeniably handsome when he wasn't dying.
Suddenly, his hand shot out, gripping hers in his sleep. His grip was surprisingly powerful.
Resigned, Melissa leaned her head against the cushions and eventually drifted off herself.
When Antonio finally stirred, he found a stranger holding his hand.
He sat up, memories of the "gift" of roses and the subsequent suffocation flooding back.
He remembered a woman—calm, professional, smelling of something sweet and soothing—saving his life.
She was still there, asleep by his feet.
He didn't wake her. He moved quietly, heading downstairs for a scheduled meeting, his mind reeling from the strange peace he felt in her presence.
Melissa, however, had been faking. As soon as the door clicked shut, she opened her eyes and let out a massive sigh of relief.
The awkwardness avoided—for now.
Her phone began to buzz. It was Audrey.
"Hey, Melissa, are you free?"
"I'm at work, Audrey. What's up?"
"Derrick booked our honeymoon flight early," Audrey rushed out.
"We leave in an hour. I tried the others, but they aren't picking up. I'm so glad you did."
"Wait, I thought that was this weekend!" Melissa hissed, glancing at the office door.
"Nothing I can do," Audrey pleaded. "Can you come pick her up? Now?"
"I'm at a new job, Audrey! I can't just leave!"
"Fine," Audrey snapped.
"Should I just drop her off at an orphanage then?"
Melissa squeezed her eyes shut.
"How troublesome... send me the location. Fuck, I'm coming."
She looked around the empty, opulent office.
She hadn't even had her first cup of coffee and she was already a life-saver, a secretary, and now, a temporary guardian.
Ariana is going to pay for this, she thought, grabbing her bag and slipping out toward the elevator.