Serena’s POV
My phone vibrated with an incoming call, and Ivy’s na flashed across the screen. I couldn’t help but smile as I answered.
"Mrs. Quinn," Ivy’s voice ca through, sounding more confident than I’d ever heard her. "Matthews finally agreed to the collaboration. You were right—I just needed to stand my ground!"
A warm sense of satisfaction washed over . "I knew you could do it, Ivy. Sotis people just need a little push to find their voice."
We quickly arranged to et within the hour. Fashion Week was practically breathing down our necks, and there wasn’t a mont to waste. This collaboration needed to be perfect—both our reputations were on the line.
When we t at Kruse’s design studio, we skipped the pleasantries and dove straight into work mode. I’d already reviewed Zara Percy’s sketches briefly, but seeing her finished pieces hanging on the mannequins sparked an imdiate flood of ideas in my mind.
"These silhouettes," I murmured, running my fingers along the delicate fabric of one evening gown. "They have such potential for our celestial elents."
Every Dreamland Studio collection revolves around a distinct the, each telling its own story. What struck most was how seamlessly Zara’s creations aligned with Dreamland’s aesthetic—as if our design languages were speaking the sa dialect.
"What if we incorporated these crystal embellishnts along the neckline?" I suggested, pointing to one of her simpler designs. "They’d catch the light beautifully on the runway."
Ivy’s eyes lit up. "Yes! And if we added that signature tallic thread you use in the Dreamland collections through the bodice—"
"It would create continuity between both brands," I finished her thought, feeling that rare spark of creative synchronicity.
We fell into an effortless rhythm, bouncing ideas off each other, sketching modifications, and occasionally bursting into laughter when we’d both reach for the sa fabric swatch simultaneously.
"Great minds," I’d say with a wink.
"Or desperate designers with a deadline," she’d quip back.
Hours lted away. The afternoon sun sank below London’s skyline, and before I knew it, darkness had fallen outside the studio windows. Our impromptu workshop had produced sothing remarkable—a cohesive collection that honored both our artistic visions while creating sothing entirely new.
"Mrs. Quinn," Ivy said, noticing stifle a yawn, "you should take a break. I can handle the finishing touches."
I hesitated, glancing at our shared workspace covered in sketches, fabric swatches, and half-empty coffee cups. Pride swelled in my chest at what we’d accomplished in re hours.
"Are you sure?" I asked, though my body was practically begging for rest. The creative adrenaline that had sustained was wearing thin.
"Absolutely. You’ve done more than enough. Our team can work with yours to finalize everything."
As I gathered my things to leave, I noticed Ivy’s dinner—delivered by her assistant hours ago—sitting mostly untouched on the table. She’d been so engrossed in our work she’d barely taken a bite. That level of dedication was exactly what Dreamland Studio needed.
"Mrs. Quinn, your phone is ringing," Ivy called out just as I reached the door.
I fished my phone from my purse and felt a flutter in my chest when I saw Ryan’s na on the screen. No matter how many tis we spoke, that feeling never quite disappeared.
"Thanks, Ivy. I’ll see you tomorrow for the final run-through," I called back, stepping into the hallway with a lightness in my step despite my exhaustion.
"Good evening, Mr. Blackwood," I answered playfully. "Checking up on again?"
His warm chuckle traveled through the line, wrapping around like a familiar blanket. "Just wanted to hear your voice. Fashion Week eve—you must be knee-deep in chaos right now."
"You have no idea," I sighed, making my way to the waiting car. "But we’ve made incredible progress. I think I’ve found a design prodigy in Ivy Percy. She has this innate understanding of balance and form that can’t be taught."
"Should I be worried you’ll replace all your designers with new talent?" Ryan teased, but I could hear the genuine interest beneath his words.
"Just expanding our family," I replied, settling into the backseat of the car. "Speaking of which, I can’t wait to co ho after all this. London is beautiful, but..."
"But it’s not where your heart is?" Ryan finished softly.
"Sothing like that," I admitted, feeling a blush warm my cheeks. Even after everything we’d been through, he still had that effect on . "Once Fashion Week wraps and things stabilize here, I’ll be on the first flight back to New York."
"I’ll be counting the days, Serena," he said, his voice dropping to that intimate tone reserved just for . "The house feels empty without you bustling around with fabric samples and coffee mugs in every room."
I laughed, picturing the creative chaos I often created. "You miss my ss? That’s how I know it’s true love."
"I miss everything about you," he replied simply. "Even finding your sketches mixed in with my business reports."
"That was one ti!" I protested, but couldn’t keep the smile from my voice.
"Three tis, actually. But who’s counting?" His gentle teasing made feel closer to him, despite the ocean between us.
"Get so rest tonight," Ryan continued. "Tomorrow’s your mont to shine. I wish I could be there to see it."
" too," I whispered, feeling the day’s exhaustion finally settling into my bones. "I’ll call you after the show."
"I’ll be waiting. I love you, Serena."
"Love you too," I murmured, ending the call as my eyes grew heavy.
We chatted for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. When a yawn escaped , I realized how truly exhausted I was. After saying goodnight, I ended the call and leaned back against the seat, allowing myself to finally relax. Tomorrow would be a defining mont for both Dreamland Studio and Ivy Percy—and I was ready.
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