Katrin flew into the elevator and pressed the button with the number one with force. The doors closed, and the cabin slowly crawled down.

"Maybe you should still go down the stairs to cool off?"

Inside, everything boiled with anger, his cheeks burned, he wanted to break something, and preferably on the head of this snob.

“I hate it!” She gathered her hair in a ponytail, secured it with a hairpin, grinned, remembering the expression on his face when she spoke in Russian.

The elevator doors parted, and Fabien, the second guard, appeared before her. The young man stood leaning against the wall opposite the elevator and smiled. The first thing that came to mind: Maxim ordered to detain her.

"What if he was so offended that he wants revenge?" Everything inside was clenched with fear.

- How was the interview? the young guard asked in a casual tone, carefully studying her face.

- Excellent! Catherine stepped out of the elevator. - I'm fired.

It became funny to herself: after all, in order to be fired, you must first get a job.

“You were asked to linger,” Fabien shifted his gaze to the neighboring elevator: there, above the closed door, numbers changed one after another. - It's about work.

- I don't care anymore! - The girl clenched her jaw with force and quickly walked towards the exit. But, apparently, the young man made some kind of sign to his partner, because the thug had already stepped in her way. - I'm in a hurry! Katherine deftly dodged his outstretched hand. “I need to get to a few more places,” she lied without blinking, “where they are waiting for me.”

- I beg you, - the blond moved after him and lightly touched the girl's elbow. - Hold on for just a few minutes. His cold, assessing look suddenly warmed up, his voice dropped almost to a whisper: “At least in order not to regret the hastily made decision later.

Katrin involuntarily stopped, bit her lower lip slightly in doubt, but still nodded in agreement. A soft bell rang, announcing that the elevator had arrived. She heard the door open and someone's heels confidently pounded on the floor.

“Catherine Velber,” they called out to her.

“Yes,” she turned around and froze. In front of her stood Enzo Masnada. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hide the disappointment on her face. Apparently, in the depths of her soul, she still hoped until the last minute that it would be Arnaud Bensalam: for some reason, out of the three directors, it was he who seemed to her the most reasonable. The first impulse was to refuse from the conversation, and from work, and from all this friendly, warm company, but the man seemed to read her thoughts.

“I want you to know that you will only work with me. Enzo handed her a gray sketchbook and solemnly said, “I have a custom order for you.

I immediately remembered that in a week I would have to pay rent for the apartment. She rented a small studio in the city, for which she paid five hundred and seventy euros per ten square meters, and there were no more than two hundred in her wallet. Catherine waged an internal struggle with herself and quietly lost to the arguments of reason.

“You won't even meet Maxim,” Enzo noticed the doubt written on the girl's face and decided to approach from the other side. — This is a completely different floor, where he does not go up during working hours. - He smiled good-naturedly: - And you really will have a chance to express yourself. Still, is a custom order worth something? - He took his elbow and pulled towards the elevator: - And I promise you: you will have plenty of work. They entered the booth and the man beamed. I am a very picky person when it comes to my comfort.

Katherine herself did not notice how she was again on the fifth floor, but this time already in Enzo's office. I woke up when we started discussing the future project: color, materials, general concept. Once again, together they reviewed all her works, had a heated argument due to the merger of incompatible styles, but in the end they nevertheless came to a consensus. And three hours later, Catherine left the building with a contract for the provision of services, which indicated the terms, risks, and payment.

“Oh, that sweet word is work!”

She happily waved to the guards, wished her a good day, and ran down the steps with a smile on her lips. The blond only raised an eyebrow and continued to look at his computer monitor, pretending to be too busy. Fabien got up from the table and wanted to see the girl to the exit, but the senior guard said something to him, and he returned to the table in upset feelings, following the happy girl with a thoughtful look.

Waving her huge bag, she walked along the alley of the city park and quietly purred under her breath a simple motive from some kind of advertising, and it was absolutely unimportant to her that in her performance it looked a little like the original.

“I won’t have to call my parents and ask for money this month.” She smiled at the passing young man with the dog, forcing him to stop and give her a long look.

Catherine bought ice cream, found a free shop and began to watch the passers-by. In the distance, on the lawn, under the watchful eyes of their masters, dogs frolicked. Teenagers chased each other among the trees. And on the bench opposite, a couple of lovers were kissing.

"Yes! Katya licked the melted edge of the cone. “Definitely – life is getting better!”

As luck would have it, the displeased face of the general director of the Compi-Max company surfaced before my eyes. The girl choked and coughed. Cheeks flared up.

“Nothing will spoil such a beautiful day for me!”

The image of Monsieur Bigard now appeared with a cheek twitching in anger.

“I will never see him again. - For some reason it became sad. - This is good?! - My heart sank. She gave herself a mental slap in the face. - Everything! I come home and throw away all the magazines and photos with his image!”

On the way, she went into a baker's shop, which was on the same street. For several months she had been buying bread and sweet pastries from only one place. She liked this family; Mathilde, a large, puffy woman with a good-natured face, stood at the counter from morning till night, while her husband Herve, a thin, tall man, stern-looking, baked.

“Good afternoon,” Katrin greeted politely and leaned against the glass case; her eyes widened from the diversity of the assortment presented. Hervé peeped out of the next room, frowning in displeasure. “And I got a job.

- Congratulations. Matilda moved to the window where the girl was standing and followed her gaze, put on a glove and took out the cake she was looking at.

— No, no, thank you! I didn't want to buy it. It's just that you have them like that, - she wanted to say "beautiful", but it turned out loud: - appetizing.

- At the expense of the institution. - The hostess put the cake in a beautiful box and closed it, affectionately asked: - As usual: a baguette and three croissants?

In anticipation of the delicacy, her mouth filled with saliva, Catherine swallowed noisily and looked at the woman in embarrassment. Mathilde, with a calm look, collected pastries in one package, and Hervé shook his head and retired to the bakery.

“Thank you very much,” Catherine thanked me for the treat as she paid for her purchases.

She came out of the bakery and sniffed. From the paper bag came the breathtaking smell of freshly baked goods. She walked quickly towards her house.

“I’ll make my mother’s tea today and go to the balcony to eat a cake.”

Her rented dovecote apartment, as she herself called it, was under the very roof and had a small balcony on which one chair could hardly fit. In the evenings, she liked to sit on it for a long time and watch the neighboring roofs, but in order to see passers-by below, she had to get up and bend over, because the fence was tightly covered with real ivy, planted in special pots along the railing. By the way, watering every evening all this stormy greenery was one of the conditions for renting an apartment. At first, the hostess was worried about her flowers and came endlessly with checks, but then she calmed down and stopped visiting her.

The elevator stopped at the top floor. Katrin got out and went to the narrow spiral staircase leading to the attic of the building. She climbed the stairs and once again asked herself if she had done the right thing by agreeing to this job. She opened the door and went inside. She took out a box of cakes.

- You are my beauty! - She took a teaspoon, broke off a piece, put it in her mouth and closed her eyes with pleasure. - Away with doubts! I needed this job.

She dragged a stack of magazines and armed herself with a green marker, and while the kettle boiled, she enthusiastically painted Monsieur Bigard's face. In the tenth image, she was finally let go. Now you could go to the balcony and finish your cake.

"Yes, definitely, life is getting better!"