“You are too modest. Remember how Richard Rose tried to poach you?” He sniffs at the memory. “You are already a success, Kate; you just need the proper platform to showcase it.”
My heart squeezes at his confidence, but as much as I’m soaking up his kind words, he needs to know he’s taking a bigchance on me. Collaboration is one thing, but going out on your own is another. “That’s very kind of you to say, but I’m a nobody, Corbus. I mean, outside of the context of Sweet Eternity, no one has heard of Kate Valentine.”
I know I’m talented, and I have the ability to take my designs to another level, but can I really succeed as the face of a label? My inexperience aside, I’m unbonded, and that’s a pretty big hurdle to overcome in a world of entitled alphas and judgmental omegas.
“I understand,” Corbus goes on, “but I was born with an established name, and I can honestly tell you that the reward is sweeter when you earn it.” His voice drops an octave, an intimate purr in my ear. “I believe you are more than deserving, and I would like to be a part of your success, if you will let me.”
How can I say no to that?“Okay. I will try, Corbus, especially since you’ve gone to all this effort.”
“Anything you need, Kate, just ask Maria. She will steer you in the right direction.”
I nod at the stylish beta hovering over near the reception desk. “I will. And thank you so much for this chance. It’s beyond my wildest dreams.”
“I am so glad, Kate. We will talk again tonight, yes?”
I flush at the hint of gravel in his voice, remembering last night’s check-in. I try not to squirm on the pretty velvet chair, but I really hope we get more of that long-distance eye contact he’s so good at.
“I look forward to it.”
I’m not sure I should be using that flirty tone with my – employer? landlord? patron? - but Maria only looks relieved as I return her phone. She shows me how to use the computer, including my calendar, which already has a meeting with Bram and Corbus scheduled on a weekly basis. She points out some useful resources about the company and then navigates to awebsite called Valentine Designs. I gape at the beautiful image of what I assume is my street entrance, complete with a brass plaque bearing the salon’s name. “Wow. This looks amazing, Maria.”
She gives me a kind smile. “I took the liberty of getting this set up for you, but we can change it as you develop your branding. I’ve popped a meeting with Claus, our Head of Marketing, into your calendar for tomorrow.”
“Thanks again. I honestly didn’t expect any of this.”
“I can tell. Which is refreshing, by the way.” She drops me a wink. “I’ve worked with a lot of talented people, and modesty is often a foreign concept.”
I hum my agreement, since a lot of Sweet Eternity’s high-profile clients are successful people who expect the store to meet their every whim, no matter how frivolous or inconvenient. There’s a reason the term ‘bondzilla’ is part of the industry’s vernacular, after all.
Maria leaves me to explore the salon, and I spend a blissful half hour taking pictures on my phone and jotting ideas in my notebook. The front area is so perfect, it would break my designer heart to change a thing, and other than a few tweaks, the private fitting room is ready for clients. The work area at the back also has a small break room and ensuite, the marble fixtures gleaming under the lights. As for the large, empty space out the back, I can’t see how I’ll ever use it. That doesn’t stop me from dreaming of the day when my designs are so popular, I need the extra room to expand.
I’m sending a largely incoherent message to Dash and Lachlan (with a lot of exploding head emojis) when a soft chime rings through the salon, and I realize it’s the front door.
“Valentine Designs,” Dash purrs when I work out how to unlock it. He taps the brass plaque next to the door and gives methe kind of smile I feel all the way to my toes. “I love this for you, sweetheart.”
“You haven’t even seen the inside!” I widen my eyes at him, exploding head style, but he just sweeps over the threshold and pulls me in for a kiss. I sink into his embrace in full view of Fifth Avenue, breathing in his perfect scent. “It’s so beyond crazy,” I tell him when I break away, even dizzier than before. “I never thought I’d have something like this.”
“Never?” He cocks a brow at me as he tucks my hand in the crook of his arm and starts exploring. “You know how talented you are. This was always in your future, Kate.”
I shrug, but now the shock is wearing off, I realize I don’t feel quite so overwhelmed. In fact, the salon is rekindling an image I had of myself in my early college years, when I wanted to set the world alight with my designs. It’s impossible not to feel a shiver of excitement as I look around the salon. “I’m going to try really hard to make you all proud of me.”
“Already am,” he says, tilting my face up for a longer, lingering kiss. He’s dressed in what he calls his streetwear, consisting of soft cotton pants and a long-sleeved denim shirt, the cuffs rolled back over his wrists. His dark hair is pulled back in a messy topknot, but given the confident way he holds himself, he could be wearing his Valentino tuxedo – or wearing nothing at all.
“Well, hold the accolades until I show you the finished product.”
I wag my brows at him, and Dash almost launches himself across the room at the garment bag. “Is this it? Is it ready?”
“Just needs a final check.” I sweep my hand towards the rose velvet drapes. “Would you be so kind as to enter my private fitting room, Mr. Devereux?”
His dark eyes flare with heat, and he struts through the curtain with all the swagger of a principal danseur. I follow,taking in my pink cheeks in the wraparound mirrors as I hang the bag from one of the built-in racks. It’s another beautiful space, shaped like a hexagon, with wooden alcoves to display shoes and accessories. Dash has already mounted the small dais in the middle of the gray silk carpet, and a couple of fantasies trickle through my head as I soak in his beautiful face from every angle.
As he shucks off his shirt, I slowly unzip the bag, letting the anticipation build. Dash gives me a slow, teasing smile, but I can hear his breath catch as I finally unveil my creation.
“Holy haute couture, sweetheart,” he gasps, eyes wide and adoring. “It’s a masterpiece.”
I give a giddy laugh, because a gushing Dash pushes every one of my buttons. “Try it on first.”
He sheds his compression tank with lightning speed, and I help him into the jacket, then step back to let him admire himself in the mirrors.
