Serena’ s POV
I collapsed onto the hotel bed after another exhausting day, imdiately grabbing my phone to check for ssages. A smile spread across my face when I saw Ryan’s request for a video call. Despite the ti difference between London and the States, we’d been trying to connect whenever possible.
"Hey there," I said softly as his face appeared on my screen. Even through the pixelated video, his eyes made my heart skip.
"You look tired," Ryan noticed imdiately, his brows furrowing with concern. "Working late again?"
I nodded, shifting to get more comfortable. "Fashion Week preparations are killing . How’s everything back ho?"
"Missing you," he answered simply, making blush.
"I miss you both so much," I admitted, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.
Ryan’s expression shifted slightly. "I heard Cedric Lancaster is back in London."
I tensed montarily, wondering how he knew. "Yes, we ran into each other yesterday. He brought dinner for my team."
"Just dinner?" Ryan asked, his tone casual but I could detect the undertone of jealousy.
"Ryan Blackwood, are you actually jealous?" I teased, but then softened. "He’s an old friend who’s being helpful while I’m in his city. Nothing more."
Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "I trust you, Serena. I just don’t trust him."
His words ward unexpectedly. The old Ryan would have issued commands or arranged surveillance. This trust was new between us.
"Thank you for that," I said sincerely. "It ans a lot that you’re trusting to handle this."
"So how’s the Fashion Week preparation going?" he changed subjects, clearly making an effort.
My face fell. "Not great, actually. They’ve closed the participant list and I was too late. I’m going to try approaching the committee head directly."
"I could make a call," Ryan offered imdiately. "Blackwood has connections with—"
"No," I cut him off firmly. "I need to do this myself, Ryan. This is my studio, my career. I can’t always rely on the Blackwood na to open doors."
He looked surprised but nodded. "What about your parents? LUXE has influence in European fashion circles."
I shook my head again. "Sa reason. I left that life behind, rember? I want to succeed as Serena Quinn, not as anyone’s daughter or wife."
Ryan’s expression softened with understanding and sothing like pride. "You’re remarkable, you know that? Most people would use every advantage available."
"I’m stubborn," I corrected with a small smile.
"Determined," he countered. "And I believe in you."
Our conversation shifted to lighter topics. Ryan promised he’d try to arrange a quick trip to London if my show made it into Fashion Week. By the ti Ryan appeared on screen holding Vivian in her soft pink onesie, I felt rejuvenated despite my exhaustion.
"Say hi to mommy, sweetheart," Ryan cooed gently, angling six-month-old Vivian toward the cara.
My daughter’s bright eyes widened at the screen, her tiny fist waving in the air as she made soft babbling sounds. When she heard my voice saying "Hi, baby girl," her face broke into the most beautiful gummy smile that made my heart ache with longing.
"She’s been reaching for your photo all day," Ryan said softly, bouncing her gently as she started to fuss. "I think she misses you."
Vivian suddenly let out a little squeal of delight, as if she recognized sothing about my voice, then promptly tried to grab at the phone screen with her chubby fingers.
"Mommy loves you so much, little one," I whispered, wishing I could reach through the screen and hold her tiny warm body against .
She gurgled happily in response before Ryan had to pull her away from the cara as she began to get sleepy and cranky.
After we ended the call, I fell asleep with a smile on my face, determined to overco tomorrow’s challenges.
---
The next morning, I wasted no ti contacting Orion Nelson, head of the Fashion Week organizing committee. My heart pounded as I waited for him to pick up.
"Mr. Nelson? This is Serena Quinn from Dreamland Studio. I was hoping we could et to discuss the upcoming Fashion Week."
"Mrs. Quinn, a eting won’t be necessary," he replied, his British accent crisp and formal.
My heart sank until he continued, "I’ve already added Dreamland Studio to the participants list."
I froze, certain I’d misheard. "I’m sorry, what did you say?"
Orion chuckled lightly. "I said your studio has already been added to the list, Mrs. Quinn. I wasn’t aware you were a friend of Cedric Lancaster’s, otherwise this... misunderstanding wouldn’t have happened."
The pieces clicked into place imdiately. Cedric had intervened despite my refusal.
"I hope you don’t mind," Orion continued, oblivious to my mixed emotions. "The committee is quite looking forward to seeing what Dreamland Studio brings to London."
I recovered quickly, forcing professionalism into my voice. "Thank you, Mr. Nelson. We won’t disappoint you."
After ending the call, I imdiately dialed Cedric’s number.
"Cedric," I said the mont he answered, "about the Fashion Week spot—thank you for helping, even though I told you not to."
"Congratulations, Serena," he replied smoothly, avoiding taking direct credit. "If you really want to thank , perhaps you could join for dinner soti."
I couldn’t help smiling at his familiar persistence. "Fine. When are you free?"
"For dinner with you? Any ti. I know you’re busy setting up your London branch."
His consideration touched , though I felt conflicted about accepting his help after specifically refusing it.
"I can always make ti to thank soone who’s helped ," I replied. "How about this weekend?"
"Perfect," he agreed.
After hanging up, I stared thoughtfully at my phone. I had mixed feelings about Cedric’s intervention, but I couldn’t deny I was relieved to have secured the spot. Now I had re days to prepare sothing spectacular for London Fashion Week.
I imdiately called my team together. We had a mountain of work ahead and no ti to waste.
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