‘If you cut any deeper, you’ll lose a finger.’
‘What?’ I looked up.
Fabrizio gently took the precision blade from my gloved hand. ‘You’re distracted. Not a great headspace for working with sharp objects.’
‘Sorry.’ I stripped off the gloves and stood. ‘Think I need so air.’
‘Co to Café Loufoque with . I’m dying for a noisette, and you could use a caffeine hit too.’
‘Sure.’
We stepped out of the workshop. Even with my mind elsewhere, sothing felt off.
‘Where is everyone?’ The open-plan office was quieter than usual, half the desks empty.
‘On leave,’ Fabrizio said. ‘April is always slow. Most people use up their annual holiday now.’
‘Oh.’ I followed him into the lift. ‘I’ve never seen you take a day off.’
‘I’m the boss. Can’t afford those luxuries.’ He smiled. ‘But if you decide to stay, you can have mine. I’ve got months’ worth piled up.’
‘Still trying to poach , huh?’ I smiled back. ‘Thanks, but I’ve got Mira Joie.’
‘We could join forces.’
‘Funny you say that. I’ve made up my mind—I’m signing the joint venture papers.’
‘You are?’ His head snapped round. His eyes lit up. ‘That’s brilliant.’
I nodded. ‘I’d already decided. Just needed to shift so funds around.’
The money Dominic had been transferring to on Ashton’s orders every month was still untouched, sitting in a separate account.
Now that I was preparing for a future without Ashton, I was definitely not about to start using it.
Between my savings and inco from the studio, I had enough to cover half the investnt.
‘This calls for a celebration,’ Fabrizio said, veering off course and dragging down a different street. ‘Proper food. Not just coffee and croissants.’
‘You’re paying.’
‘Of course.’ He found a table, ordered for both of us. ‘I’ll send over the share purchase agreent this afternoon. Get a lawyer to look it over.’
‘Will do.’
He studied . ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think going into business with had depressed you.’
I forced a smile. It felt fake, so I gave up and shrugged. ‘It’s not that. I’m just tired.’
‘I’ve been working you too hard,’ he said, sounding guilty.
‘No, I love the work.’ I couldn’t exactly tell him I had a feeling my engagent was circling the drain. So I said, ‘I’ll probably be spending more ti in Paris. Might even move the studio here.’
‘Yes!’ he said, actually snapping his fingers. I’d never seen him do that. ‘I wanted to bring it up, but figured I’d sound too eager. You’ve no idea how happy that makes .’
I raised my glass. ‘Cheers.’
At least Fabrizio’s offer was real, solid. Sothing I could build on.
Ashton had been back in Skyline for two days. We’d called over the weekend, gone through the motions—‘How was your day?’ ‘Did you eat?’ ‘Sleep well?’ ‘Goodnight.’
But I could feel the performance on both ends.
He seed distracted. Like sothing was sitting heavy on his mind.
A few tis, he opened his mouth to speak. Then changed his mind.
He had that look—hesitant, guilty. Like soone about to say sothing they didn’t want to say.
I didn’t push him.
When he was ready, he’d tell .
But the signs were all there. He’d stopped chasing about the wedding dress. Never asked for my guest list. The honeymoon chat had gone cold.
Fabrizio, ever the gracious host, didn’t pry, but he must’ve sensed sothing.
After a long lunch, we went back to the office.
I signed the share agreent and transferred the money.
Just like that, we were business partners.
I shoved thoughts of Ashton into a ntal drawer and got back to work, sketching out a new collection using plique-à-jour enalling.
Work, work, work.
It was the only thing keeping steady right now.
But once I left the office, I was back to being that hollow, floating version of myself—adrift in a foreign city.
Yvaine knew too well. The silence on the phone barely lasted a second before she pounced.
‘Spill.’
I didn’t want to.
I’d been dreading this. Yvaine had a way of putting into words things I couldn’t bear to admit.
But she wasn’t the type to let it go.
‘Tell over the phone, or I’ll fly to Paris and drag it out of you in person.’
‘I... I don’t think there’s going to be a wedding, after all.’
Silence.
Then: ‘Start from the beginning. No skipping.’
So I told her everything—the woman in the red dress, the almost-kiss, the sudden call that pulled him away, the way they’d flown back to Skyline together.
And the sinking feeling that this woman ant more to Ashton than anyone else ever had. Including .
‘He hasn’t said anything,’ I said. ‘But I can feel it. A breakup’s coming.’
I heard footsteps on her end.
‘You going sowhere?’
‘Just stepping onto the balcony,’ she said. ‘Need so air. Then I can tell you—’
She paused.
Then shouted, loud enough to burst an eardrum: ‘YOU BLOODY IDIOT!’
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