Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
The number wasn’t saved, but I recognised it.
I slipped out of bed slowly, careful to keep my weight ofthe floorboard in case it creaked.
J padded across the carpet into the bathroom before swiping answer”.
A man’s voice, low and polished: “Miss Vance. Hope l’not interrupting.”
I paused, trying to place it.
Then it clicked “Mr Marchetti?”Fabrizio Marchetti, CEO of Valmont & Cie.
I’d met him once at an exhibition in Sunset City, where he’d asked for my number.
At the time, I hadn’t taken his offer seriously.
Besides, I wasn’t about to move to France.
He let out a smooth, apologetic laugh. I know it’s a holiday on your end. Thought today might give me a better shot at catching you.”I’ve got time,” I said.
I’ve been waiting for your call since we met. You never got in touch, so I assumed I’d been forgotten. Still, I want to ask again. Would you be open to working together?”
“Um, about that, thank you for -“
“Don’t say no just yet,” he cut in, voice silk-slick.
“I’m offering thirty per cent. Full creative partnership. You wouldn’t be working under me, but with me. It’s not just a job, and there’s no need to relocate. I’d love for you to visit the Paris office, just to get a feel for it. If frequent travel’s off the table, we’ll coordinate remotely. You stay in Skyline, we work by email, calls, whatever suits you.”Damn it, I was tempted.
This could actually work.
Valmont & Cie wasn’t just some fancy Parisian label.
They were THE name.
A joint release with them would be everywhere-showrooms, magazine covers, airport displays, the works.
If it took off, I’d stop being that girl with a few decent commissions and start being a name people actually said out loud.
I hadn’t even answered when Fabrizio sighed into the phone.
“I didn’t mean to talk shop on your day off, but we’ve got an autumn launch on the calendar and none of the concepts my teams submitted are usable We’re running out of time and I still don’t have a clear direction. Miss Vance, let me send over the roughs. Just take a look Alright,” I said.
“Send them.”
He’d just offered to show me their internal designs That was trust The second we hung up, files began landing in my inbox Itapped the first one open, barely skimmed the header A voice behind me, low and hoarse, broke in “You luding in the bathroom to flirt with someone?
I turned.
Sebastian was still half-buried in the sheets, lying exactly where I’d left him.
He sat up and dragged a hand through his hair.
“Sounded like a man. Who was it?”I walked back over.
“I didn’t want to wake you. It was Fabrizio Marchetti, CEO of Valmont & Cie. Work call.”
“Fabrizio Marchetti? That fossil? What the hell’s he calling you for at seven in the morning? Block him.”
“He’s not that old, and it’s not seven in the morning.” I gave him a flat look.
“You think every man on the planet’s got a hard-on for me?”
“You’re my wife. Seems like a logical assumption.”I reached the edge of the bed.
His arm shot out from under the duvet and yanked me forward.
I lost balance and landed right on top of him, the quilt bunched up between us.
“I’m married to the best woman alive. You expect me not to be paranoid?”I smacked his chest.
“You’re completely unhinged.”
“What did he want?”
“Wants to launch his autumn collection with me. Sounds serious. The profit split’s actually decent.”
“He’s trying to talk you into moving to France.”
“He’s not. Even if I go, I’m not relocating. You think it’s a bad idea?”
“Did you already say yes?”
“Not yet. But I want to.” I lifted my head and looked down at him.
“Problem?”He fell into a thoughtful silence.
Then said, “If you want to go, go. It’s your work. I don’t have a say. You’re ridiculously talented. You deserve a bigger platform.”He said all the right things, but they landed stiff and flat like he was reciting lines from a script he didn’t believe in.
He pulled me in tighter.
His breath warmed the back of my neck.
“One thing, though. If you go to France, I’m coming with you.”1
The Attention 2
I frowned.
“Who brings their husband to work?”
“Don’t think of me as your husband. Think of me as your assistant.”I considered it.
“Fine.”He kicked the covers up and dragged them over both of us.
“Come back to bed, it’s still early.”I tucked myself against his chest, curled into the space under his chin.
I hadn’t even shut my eyes when I felt his hand sliding down my back.
The nap never happened.
It was as if Sebastian had just discovered that stamina was a competitive sport and I was the trophy.
Soon, I was sore everywhere, and my spine had melted into the mattress.
Then he started again.
I elawed at his chest, eyes blurred.
“I can’t. Sebastian, please-“
“Okay,” he muttered, but his pace didn’t slow. At all.
By the time he stopped, I couldn’t tell if I was breathing or hallucinating.
Everything buzzed.
My brain lagged behind my body like it needed a reboot.
I was barely conscious when I felt him take my hand.
I blinked blearily and watched him slip my ring off.
In his other hand was another ring, one I hadn’t seen before.
My head cleared just enough to choke out: “What are you doing?”
“The first one was custom, but it was rushed.” He held the new ring higher.
“This one’s from the same designer, but done with more time and thought. I wanted it right.”The band was platinum, narrow, clean-lined.
A row of tiny diamonds circled it, sharp and bright.
The centre stone was round, larger, set low.
Light scattered across the duvet in narrow streaks, blinking off the wall.
My eyes stung, from the light and from the tears.
My throat tightened.
“Why?”He was half-kneeling in front of the bed.
“Because I want to ask you properly this time. Will you marry My fingers clenched the duvet.
“So this is… a proposal?” me?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re already married.”
“That wasn’t real. You had your reasons. So did I. But none of it was clean. I want to fix it. You never got a real proposal. Or a wedding. You deserve both. So…” He looked into my eyes.
“Will you?”He stayed there, holding the ring up like a reverent offering.
My vision blurred.
I reached up and brushed my fingertips against the edge of the band.
Then my hand jerked back and I shoved it under the covers.
His brow pulled tight.
“What’s wrong?”I rubbed the spot where the ring had touched.
“We need to talk.”It sounded ominous, even to my own ears.