The Greek Tycoon's Lover
Elizabeth Lennox - The Greek Tycoon's Lover
The Greek Tycoon's Lover
Their words hurt.
Helen Miller tried to block their words and ignore the pain slashing at her self-esteem but the women were relentless with their cutting remarks. The vicious women standing by the filing cabinets didn’t know someone was hidden behind a large stack of filing cabinets, so they felt free to speak openly. And the worst part; their words were true. Oh, so painfully true.
Helen swiped angrily at a tear that slipped down her cheek. With a grimace, she acknowledged that now she had at least one good reason why she didn’t wear makeup anymore. She almost laughed out loud at the idea of finding a silver lining in this horrible situation. She didn’t though. Overwhelming the humor was the absolute humiliation she was feeling as the women continued to slash her appearance and personality to shreds, unknowing that their victim was shrinking back into the steel filing cabinets, in a place where the overhead fluorescent lighting was slightly more dim.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t tune out their words. The first woman huffed in a haughty manner and Helen could picture the woman’s image in her mind, having heard her voice and witnessed her smug expression in so many meetings. Brown hair that had a perfect sheen to the immaculate cut, sophisticated slacks and a slightly trendy shirt. Her name was Jessica and she worked in the accounting department. The woman was a flirt, but also had the fashion sense of a French designer. “Good grief,” Jessica said with a snotty voice, “she’s been here for six months and in all that time, she’s just let herself slide. At least when she first started, she would at least try to look pretty and professional. Now she just looks dull and lifeless.”
“I agree. Did you see the suit she is wearing today? Ugh! It’s horrible,” another woman said. “How frumpy! The woman looks so pale in that terrible color of brown. She should never wear that color.”
Helen knew that woman’s voice as well, had taken notes in several meetings when the evil woman preened in front of the group as if she was in her element to be in front of so many men. Her name was Barbara from marketing and had a reputation for being a horrible gossip as well as a flirt. At least in this case, the woman wasn’t the best dresser. Barbara wasn’t boring in her fashion attempts but many times, her efforts at coming across with a trendy style completely missed the mark.
Helen looked down at her brown, tweed suit that had seemed so professional looking earlier in the morning when she’d pulled it out of her closet. But now, looking down at it in the harsh light of the filing room with the unflattering lights defining the nubby texture too closely, she accepted that it quite possibly was frumpy, just as Barbara had described.
Unfortunately, they weren’t finished. A third woman laughed shrilly before saying, “And her shoes! Why can’t she find something more feminine? The ones she’s wearing are no better than flats and do nothing for her legs. I mean,” the woman laughed bitterly, “if you’re going to be around Dimitri Theopolis, at least have a little pride in what you look like. The man is a super stud. He must roll his eyes each morning when she comes in looking like woodwork.”
Barbara snorted her agreement. “A grandma wouldn’t be seen wearing those awful things,” her malicious voice said. “You’re right, the woman has relatively nice legs, why won’t she show them off? I know I’d be raising my hemlines if I were around that man!”
The three women chatted away, tearing up Helen a little longer, then finally moved on to the next person who didn’t meet their standards. Eventually, their voices faded away as they walked out of the filing room but their malicious comments rang heavily in the air long after they were gone. Helen stayed where she was, letting the tears fall down her cheeks. She couldn’t keep the pain from clenching at her stomach as her shoulders sagged in humiliated misery.
Their words were true. She’d slowly become frumpy in an effort to increase her efficiency for her boss in the hopes of becoming more valuable to him. In the process, she’d lost herself, her femininity and all her pride in her appearance.
Helen grimaced as she pulled a tissue out of her pocket to sop up the wetness on her cheeks. In reality,