Christina’s POV
I flashed a grin at Hudson through the screen. "Maybe I’ll stick around until the new collection launches. You know, six months or so."
Hudson sat up straight, his jaw tensing. "You said one week. Now you’re talking about half a year?"
"Exactly," I nodded, watching his expression darken.
He started jabbing at his phone aggressively.
"What are you doing?" I asked, half-laughing.
"Texting the pilot. Getting the jet ready."
"Relax," I said. "I was joking. No need to send out the pack’s resources. I’ll be back before you know it."
He paused, clearly unconvinced, his Alpha instincts kicking in.
"I an it," I insisted. "I’ll be ho soon. The team here works incredibly fast, especially Fabrizio. We had a eting this afternoon and got done what would’ve taken a week at Nyx."
He still looked annoyed, but at least he set the phone down.
I counted that as a victory.
"How’s the pack doing?" I asked, trying to stifle a yawn.
Then ca the leadership talk. Words like "territorial expansion," "alliance negotiations," "resource distribution," and "pack hierarchy restructuring."
Akira stirred drowsily in my mind. "He’s really going all Alpha on us tonight."
My eyes glazed over before he even finished his second sentence.
A minute in, I was sinking down the headboard, struggling to stay awake.
Hudson’s voice suddenly deepened. "Tilt the phone down."
I obeyed without thinking, eyes half-closed. "Why?"
He didn’t answer.
I forced my eyes open, followed his gaze... and realized my nightshirt had slipped open at the collar.
"Pervert," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I yanked the phone back up. "Is this how the mighty Alpha of The Sabreridge pack behaves?"
He growled in protest, making shiver.
"I’m going to bed now. Night, Hudson."
***
"We’re hosting a small industry roundtable today," Fabrizio announced the next morning as I entered his office. "Interested in attending?"
"I can co?" I perked up imdiately.
I’d heard whispers about it.
Invitation-only, organized by the French jewelry guild, and packed with senior designers from all the major houses.
"Of course," Fabrizio said with that perfect smile of his.
By now, I’d built up so immunity to that smile.
My pulse no longer stuttered every ti he flashed it my way.
Not that I found him attractive.
It was just... well, if Jason Momoa smiled at you like that, you’d lt a little too, mated or not.
"He’s attractive," Akira comnted. "But Hudson would tear him apart if he knew what you were thinking."
"Good thing he can’t read my mind from across the ocean," I replied ntally.
Fabrizio led to an elegant convention hall where the event was taking place.
He explained that officially, it was a friendly networking session.
In reality, it was a complete bloodbath.
No designer made eye contact unless they were issuing a challenge.
Valmont & Cie traditionally hosted these gatherings.
Today was no different.
"I don’t normally attend these events," Fabrizio said as we approached the entrance. "But I thought you might want to see how Parisian designers operate."
"I appreciate that. Thanks for including ."
Inside, around a dozen designers were already seated in small clusters.
Just before we reached the door, a man’s voice drifted out.
"Valmont’s autumn-winter line is going to bomb."
Fabrizio froze.
Through the glass panel, I could clearly see the speaker.
He was blond, narrow-shouldered, and wearing a scarf indoors like it made him special.
Another voice joined in. "They’ve been going downhill for years. Last year’s collection was a catastrophe, and this one looks even worse."
A third snorted. "I heard Fabrizio’s destroying the company. Half the team has already left."
"Can’t wait to watch it fall apart."
I glanced at Fabrizio.
He didn’t pretend not to hear.
Yet his expression remained calm.
That level of self-restraint was sothing I genuinely admired about him.
"The main guy talking is Jean-Baptiste," he said, nodding toward the scarf-wearer. "Forr senior designer with us. Quit last year. It was ssy."
"How ssy?"
"He took several team mbers and established his own brand. He’s been living off Valmont’s reputation ever since. He actually stole a major client from us last month."
I imdiately thought of Nyx Collective and Violet Lin.
Not identical situations, but similar enough to resonate.
Fabrizio suddenly looked tired.
"Valmont looks stable from the outside, but we’re struggling. High staff turnover, shrinking profit margins, investors constantly demanding results. To be honest, I wasn’t confident about the autumn-winter launch. That’s why I contacted you."
Well. That explained a lot.
He must have noticed sothing in my expression because he quickly added, "I’m not trying to make you feel obligated. Just giving you context. Anyway, ignore them. All talk, no substance. Let’s go inside."
"Alright."
We entered the room.
Jean-Baptiste spotted Fabrizio imdiately.
He leaned over and whispered sothing to the man beside him.
The other designer looked at , leaned in, and muttered in French, "That’s her? The new girl from Highrise City? She looks barely twenty. Besides a pretty face, what could she possibly offer?"
"Probably doesn’t understand a word of French. No idea why she’s even here."
They didn’t bother lowering their voices.
I walked directly up to Jean-Baptiste and stopped so close he couldn’t ignore .
"My French is terrible," I admitted, "but I understand enough. So thanks for calling young and pretty. As for everything else... this job isn’t about age or appearance. It’s about talent and creativity. And you haven’t seen my work yet."
His mouth twitched.
His arrogance vanished.
He sat up straighter.
"You are—" he began.
I turned and walked away.
I took a seat beside Fabrizio just as the host stepped onto the stage.
The room imdiately fell silent.
Each brand was expected to present its current concept and preview its latest pieces.
But no one was foolish enough to reveal their best designs.
Most presentations were just outdated slides, recycled mock-ups, and vague design terminology.
Still, I took detailed notes.
It was my first industry roundtable, and there was much to learn.
Finally, soone from Valmont stood up.
He wasn’t a designer, more of a polished corporate spokesperson.
Everyone expected the usual recycled pitch.
Then he clicked past the title slide.
"Autumn/Winter – Lead Designer: Christina Vance" appeared on the screen.
I nearly choked. "Wait. I thought we were doing a collaboration. A team effort."
"We are," Fabrizio said calmly. "But you’ve seen what my team produced before you arrived. We’d need to rebuild everything from scratch. Might as well go all in on your vision. It’s faster and better. Plus, you deserve the recognition."
"This is huge," Akira whispered in my mind. "But risky. If this fails..."
"Then we both go down in flas," I finished for her.
Man, Fabrizio had just handed huge responsibility.
And taken a massive gamble himself.
It was like asking an intern at Apple to design the next iPhone.
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