The Billionaire's BBW Secret by Mallorie Griffin Page B

the piece of paper holding the address.  She'd
double-checked the location on Google maps before she left so she knew the
way.  But holding the paper gave her the tiny confidence boost she needed.  She
was going to do this.  Even if she didn't get this job, she would get a
different one.
    Denny didn't much like riding the
subway, as the seats on the trains were far too small, but she didn't have much
of an option.  Keeping a car in New York City was prohibitively expensive after
all.  So she made due, as she always did.  The situation wasn't ideal but it
was a livable one.
    When the train arrived with a loud
squeal and a stench of acrid smoke, the doors opened.  People poured out of
them, and then Denny wedged herself in with the other passengers.  She was
certain some were shooting glares at her.  How dare she take up more space than
what was allotted, she was sure they were thinking.  How dare she be fat?
    She didn't care.  She just wanted
to sit down.  She was a bundle of nerves at the moment and her legs felt like
they were going to kick themselves straight out from under her.
    Luckily, she found a seat in the
back of the train, and squeezed into it before anyone else could.
    Then the train set off.
    Denny tried not to look at anyone. 
It was best not to make eye contact on the sub.  Instead, she pulled out her
phone and loaded up a simple game to pass the time.
    Before long, the operator called
out the station she needed on the tinny speaker, barely audible through the
static and fuzz.
    One switched train and a ten minute
walk later, and Denny found herself in front of the imposing building where her
interview was.  She swallowed, and another cool breeze knocked some more of her
hair askew.
    Then she made for the building.
    Inside, it was spacious, and on the
high end of luxurious.  The floor was a sea of highly polished, slick white
marble, and there were matching marble columns to boot.  Corinthian columns,
she noted idly as her sensible flats plodded along on the floor.  There were
ferns everywhere; it was as if whoever did the interior decorating for this
building wanted to give the impression of a jungle.  It didn't exactly work. 
Denny was still fully aware that she was in the middle of New York.
    She glanced about, feeling woefully
out of place.  More people of all ages ran about in business suits, including
the women.  She felt extremely under-dressed in comparison, but there was no
help for it.  She certainly couldn't go home and change even if she had
something more appropriate to change into.
    Instead she took a deep breath,
steeled herself, and made for what looked like the receptionist desk.
    A very bored, very pretty woman was
sitting there, staring at a computer monitor.  She ignored Denny, even after
she coughed, forcing the other woman to speak.
    “Excuse me?” Denny said just loud
enough for the receptionist to hear.  The woman rolled her eyes and tossed her
perfectly coiffed brunette curls, then not-quite-glared at Denny.  She flushed. 
She couldn't help it.  She knew what the woman was thinking.
    What was this fat slob doing
here?
    “Can you direct me to-” she pulled
out the paper, fumbling with it.  “Office 14014?”
    “Yes, just-” the woman was cut off
as the phone by her rang.  She immediately picked it up.  It was as if she
wanted to avoid conversation with Denny, and the phone conveniently rang just
then.  “Hello, Larson tower,” she said, staring intently at the computer
screen.  “Mmhm.  No, no, not busy at all, sir.  Yes, in fact she just arrived. 
All right.  Yes.”  As she spoke, she waved Denny toward an elevator.  It seemed
more like she was shooing her away than directing her.  Denny shook her head in
disbelief at the way she was being treated, but rather than make a scene she ignored
it and headed for the elevator.
    Or elevators, rather.  There was a
bank of eight impressive looking lifts for this massive building, all shiny
gold