Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Vance cut a look at Sunny. He didn’t believe a damn word out of my mouth, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say so. I decided to help him.
“Here’s the truth, Mr. Hollywell. While I worked here, I began a relationship with Damien Stone, unaware he was engaged to Talia. When I became pregnant with his child, he saw his soon-to-be wife’s bank accounts about to disappear out of reach, so he recruited Lyla Dawson to help him discredit me and ensure Talia never believed a single word that came out of my mouth.”
Vance paled for an entirely different reason. I almost chuckled at his hanging mouth. “Lyla and Damien? Pregnant? You’re lying!” he blurted.
“I am not.” My reply was calm. “I’ve got the stretch marks and the nine-month-old to prove it.”
“Doesn’t mean the child is his.” Vance burst out of his seat. “Damien is a friend of mine. He wouldn’t cheat on Talia or abandon a child he fathered.”
Sunny sliced in. “If you’re really a friend of his, you know everything you just said is bullshit. He cheats on Talia every chance he gets. His favorite mistresses get an apartment on the Upper West Side. He’s got three on the go currently. One of them is a Broadway star, Vivica Rostov. She’s not half bad.”
Hollywell slowly lowered in his seat, a thousand emotions battling on his face. Lies didn’t usually have that much detail. “Even if what you’re saying is true,” Vance said to me. “Why would you tell me?”
“Why not?” I said. “Am I supposed to keep Damien’s and Lyla’s secrets? I see how that benefits them, but it does shit-all for me. The point is I did nothing I was accused of, and therefore, you have no conflict with hiring me.”
I plucked the pad off his desk. “But let me help you along. I’ll prove I deserve a spot here, not because Sunny orders it or because you should feel bad for me. Give me a concept, Hollywell. Gown, suit, swimwear—doesn’t matter. Tell me what to design, and if it’s not Caddell-worthy, we’ll walk out now.”
His eyes narrowed, flicking between me and Sunny. He likely didn’t believe the last part. Sunny’s orders were to be followed—test or not. But in this game of chess, I didn’t need my boyfriend’s intimidation on my side. There is one thing I’ve always been excellent at, and it’s creating beautiful clothes that people of all types and styles want to wear.
“All right, Miss Blaine. One sketch. If it’s up to my standards, you will have the job with conditions.”
“What conditions?”
He flapped a hand. “Not worth listing until I’ve seen what you come up with.”
“Careful,” Sunny hissed. “Don’t get too big for yourself, Hollywell.”
Vance lost the superior look fast. “What I meant is, we’ll get into all of that when there is an offer to be made. Now,” he began. “Sketch me a wedding dress with a Queen Anne neckline.” Vance placed a pencil in front of me. “Give me something I’ve never seen before.”
A tall order. The wedding industry makes over sixty billion dollars a year, and there were tons of labels, from high fashion to bargain, cashing in with every classic to unique wedding dress design there was. White was left behind a long time ago and now they were in every color. Long trains gave way to short hems. Poofy gowns hung side by side with tight and fitted.
The challenge to give the creative director of a high fashion line something he’s never seen before is nigh on impossible for the average designer.
Thankfully, I’ve never been average.
My pencil flew across the page, working fast but not fast enough for my whirling mind. I knew exactly what I’d draw before he finished saying “wedding dress.”
The neckline materialized around a slender neck. The waist drew in, then flared out. I didn’t know how serious Sunny was about wanting a new, bold look for the Merchant clan, but I’d been mentally sketching that wardrobe ever since he handed me a credit card and sent me off in the direction of Brocade. I’d always been the perfect person for this job at Caddell House. Now that it required me to find the person who helped the Brotherhood throw Sunny off a bridge, blow up Liam’s car, terrify Elizabeth, and mow down Genny—I’d be the perfect person for that job too.
No matter what it took. No matter how many chess games I had to play. Snobs I had to impress. Demons I had to face. Or enemies I had to tame.
The world was done underestimating me.
I penciled in my last flourish, signed my name on the bottom, and dropped the pad on his desk. Vance studied it—his eyes giving away the thoughts he fought to keep off his face.
“Interesting.”
I smirked. The design before him was a sheer trumpet gown with the requested Queen Anne neckline—that was for Hollywell. The lace butterflies weaving down the gown in an intricate pattern, growing in size and number as they flew down the darkening ombre train—that was all me.