My best pair of heels for business matters were, ironically, the exact ones I've had for the longest time. Black, suede, with a gold chain wrapping around the ankle in a simple matter, they are timeless and unbelievably elegant.

Not to mention, pretty easy to move quickly in.

My alarm woke me up on time, but I spent too long trying to curl my hair and protect it from the continued rain. In the end I decided to try my luck placing it under a hat, with a dress coat over by business dress - heavens, that is brand new and cannot get rain on it under any circumstances whatsoever - and my purse clutched tightly in my hand. Over my shoulder, a black briefcase carries my laptop and paperwork, while my hand not clutching my purse is holding up an umbrella.

By the time I lock the door to my townhouse and am down to the car in the driveway, it's a miracle alone that I haven't tripped. It takes me a bit of maneuvering to get into the car, but I do so unruffled. Elegance doesn't just come from talking well, you know.

It is a twenty minute drive from my downtown home to the uptown fashion district, where my office and employees wait anxiously for my arrival. It is a heavy schedule today - I only know so because I was handed my paper agenda by my assistant as the last and most important thing she gave me - and my office is most likely already up and running.

Traffic was relatively light, but I find myself daydreaming more about the color palette I've chosen for the winter collection than paying too much attention to driving. It is simple, refined and a most definite to rule the top of the charts. I've already had three requests for immediate, off the runway winter gowns for the upcoming Gala at the Louvre. I too am going, and shortly after that flying over to Zermatt, in Switzerland, to see the fashion show of the some of my best friends and their winter releases.

It was raining really heavily by the time I pulled into the underground parking lot of the building. Thank goodness for elevators and the lack of need to go back outside. Leaving the umbrella in the car, I gather my items and step out of the car, one beautiful heeled shoe after another. My right hand passes off my car keys to the valet, tossing him a careful wink, while my left hand presses the button for the elevator.

It opens immediately and I step in, riding by myself up to the top floor of our building. It's a rather small high-rise, the Auteur Building, but it's home. My office shares the top floor with a refreshment room, three greeting rooms, five board rooms, and three private offices, for my personal assistant, my personal project manager, and my personal operations manager. Together, we make a very formidable team.

They're waiting in the small lobby for me by the time I step out of the elevator. Anastasia, my personal operations manager, is lounging on the furthermost sofa, overlooking the view of the city we have on the water. She's dressed for success today too: in a white jumpsuit, leopard heels and a short, bob cut black hair, she is striking even in a room with beautiful decor. She sits patiently, long legs crossed, fingers idly tapping against the sofa arm she leans on. At the sound of the elevator opening, she stands, still not yet looking at me. Her hand reaches down to pick up a stack of paperwork, and she lets a small smile grace her lips before turning to me. The shade of red she's chosen for her lipstick today makes her smile all that more real - and contradicting.

Gloria, my personal project manager, meanwhile, is playing happy feet while she sits in front of the elevator. She's short, significantly so, but she dresses in a vintage style that is so uniquely her that she can pull it off. Today, she's in a long sleeved polka dot dress, which fell past her knees and made her appear small. She's wearing ankle boots, but they do little to help her height much. When I stepped out of the elevator, she was immediately up and over to me, reaching for my purse and briefcase so I could take off my coat.

"Good morning, Ms. Beaumont, how are you? The morning so far has been smooth, and our weekly project reports are coming in now." She says this quietly, but with a certain excitement to her voice, tilting it up towards the ends of her sentences. Gloria does so with nimble fingers as well, taking my bags from me and bringing them towards my office. I smile at her, giving a nod as I hang my coat on the rack by the door. By the time Gloria has cleared the room and I make a move to go to my office, Anastasia has reached me.

"Good morning, Anastasia," I greet, looking up at her. She has a certain smile reseted for business deals and news that not always be welcome. It's warm and inviting at first, but once you've seen it and know what lies behind it, it's easy to piece apart. This morning her fingers are moving at a more stringendo tempo than her usual moderato; the files in her arms seem larger than just the usual weekly report.

"Ms. Beaumont." She pauses a moment, collecting herself, before speaking as we walk towards Gloria, who held my office door open. "I'm afraid I have to start this week off with some rather bad news. Some pretty major problems occurred Friday and over the weekend, and they need to be dealt with immediately."

Never really one to beat about the bush, Anastasia has always been blunt and quick to the point. It makes her an efficient employee, and certainly makes her the perfect candidate for firing people. Not many people dare to cross Anastasia the wrong way - me most certainly of all.

Gloria too is frowning now, but she ducks out of the room to get her own files for review. I pick my briefcase up, taking my work laptop off its charger and turn back to Anastasia. "Well then," I say, taking a deep breath, "it's best for us to deal with the situations in Board Room A. After all, that has our highest success rates yet."

She merely lifts an amused eyebrow at the joke, following me out. Gloria meets us back in the room as we settle in, and the stack of paper we have to go through gets increasingly larger.

"Last Friday, around 8 in the morning," began Anastasia, steepled fingers and narrow lips, "the models showed up for the first walk through rehearsal and size fitting. Madrick said something to one of them, she said some words back, and the next thing we know, there's a lawyer in my office telling me she's suing the business."

The sun has finally crested the top of the other buildings and filtered into the room, shining across the polished conference table. It was beautiful; my fingers idly traced the lines in the wood as Anastasia spoke.

"Well, this isn't the first time such a thing has happened." I sighed, tracing a knot in the wood, "Is Madrick becoming a liability? This is the fourth case he's caused us in his employment. Gloria, I know he's a fantastic project manager, but I really can't risk another court case here."

"Madrick has to be let go," cut in Anastasia, reaching for a folder and pulling out a magazine. It was the latest issue of one of the fashion tabloids that liked to follow our company. "The lawsuit has gone public. The model went straight to the tabloids. She's making thousands every day we let this sit."

I frowned, taking the magazine. The front cover was a picture of the model - beautiful, naturally - with a man in a suit next to her. She was posed outside of this office, and the large headline read "Auteur Sued Again!" with the subtitle as "What could this mean for the company? Are they about to hit ruin?"

Gloria spoke up. "Madrick left Friday after the incident. He didn't file a weekly report, and his assistant project managers have been in a panic because he left three projects undone without further instruction. I have to meet with them in a half hour and go over how to proceed this week."

I dropped the tabloid on the table, getting up to make a coffee. The caffeine should help the headache I could already begin to feel forming. What a mess. The public getting involved could mess everything up. It was so much easier to keep events like these under wraps, instead of having to deal with public opinion and potentially bring ruin about on my company. No doubt I would be getting phone calls from them later in the day, when they actually saw the tabloids as well.

"Fantastic." I let the water boil for the coffee, turning around to look at two of the members of my team. "Okay. Anastasia, I presume you've already called Mr. Chlebek. Set up a meeting with him at his earliest convenience - stress the importance. We need to work on damage control, contain and smooth over what has occurred. Call a company meeting before end of work hours. Schedule a press conference for this Friday, so we can have this whole mess sorted out. And I want Madrick fired now. I'll even call him myself."

Anastasia was on the phone before I finished, leaving the room to grab her laptop, presumably. Gloria was pale, shuffling her files back and forth. Our weekly morning meeting was supposed to show the productivity we had the week before, not necessarily to solve problems.

"I have three meetings today," I opened my agenda, sitting down in front of my laptop. "Will you two be alright with beginning to get things sorted out? I can't reschedule."

Gloria nodded, smoothing out a piece of hair. "Of course. Would you be available to meet again when you're done?"

"Yes. I have lunch plans with a couple friends, but I can meet after that. Let's say 3:30." With her confirmation, and Anastasia's when she returned, I left the two to damage control. My next stop was to meet with the show coordinator for the winter fashion show.