Chapter 32 #2
As promised, I sent Miranda pictures of the pieces I loved—everything in the store—and consulted with her on the custom necklace Kaya was requesting for me.
We were both disappointed that I couldn’t meet the elusive designer.
But I promised I’d take one for the team and keep ordering custom designs until I did.
With just enough time to spare, Kaya and I returned to the estate to change.
While the outfit I’d worn to work would have been appropriate, Kaya wanted me to wear something more girlboss to reinforce that I was the one behind the changes at Steele. So I picked a simple pantsuit set accessorized with the earrings and bracelet from Konni.
Kaya used her phone to record a quick fashion critique of my outfit. Probably for Konni. After a quick early dinner and assurances from Mom that she wasn’t feeling excluded, we left again.
“She really is okay,” Kaya said in the car.
“She’s been looking into the Riverfront project since you messaged her.
I can’t tell you enough how impressed we were by the design enhancements you made.
It went from an average, overpriced resort to a destination resort.
Pennly is lucky you got involved, and Abbye’s beyond inspired by the way you’re shining.
She’s healing more than her arm right now because of you.
So, don’t worry. Keep doing your thing and being a role model. ”
The unwavering certainty behind her words allowed me to be fully present for something I’d dreamed of—attending a live fashion show.
Having a front-row seat to take in the designer’s works was better than I’d imagined. And so was the networking with other like-minded fashion enthusiasts and designers afterward.
On the inside, I was giddier than a child let loose in a candy store as I mingled with designers I only dreamed of meeting. From the outside, I only let people see the polite, coolly composed Sophia, well aware of the photographers quietly documenting the event.
It felt like the show had barely ended when Kaya’s phone started to buzz. She excused herself to make a call. When I glanced at the time, I knew who’d messaged her and pardoned myself as well.
“Don’t bother,” I said, catching up to her before she found a quiet place. “We saw what we needed. We can go.”
The polished way she smiled told me we were still being observed, and I matched my expression to hers as she hooked her arm through mine to walk together toward the exit.
We kept our conversation focused on fashion until we were in the car again.
“I’ll call him,” I said when her phone started ringing. “But first, thank you for tonight. It was amazing, and I’ll go with you to any future fashion shows you want.”
“Make sure to tell him you made that promise and gush about how much fun you had. It’s the only way he’ll give you up for this long again,” she said with a wink.
I didn’t just gush to him over the phone all the way home, but also as he carried me upstairs to cuddle me while he listened.
“Have you thought of designing clothes yourself?” he asked when I paused.
“Eventually. When I’m ready.”
He rumbled his approval. “I’m starting to understand that it’s not just about doing things on your own to be independent. You’re methodical in everything you do. Steele was always meant to be a stepping stone to hone your skills and make connections, wasn’t it?”
I grinned at him but didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Konni was quickly becoming the person who knew me better than anyone else. My comfort. My rock—solid pecs, concrete abs, and a hard “support” I used to release every ounce of my tension and pass out in his impressive arms.
Those same arms refused to let me go the next morning until my stomach growled.
Both our Moms were already at the table, quietly looking at something on Kaya’s phone.
“That’s not a good sign,” I said, even though they seemed more focused than angry. “Another article with pictures from last night?”
“Yep, very subtle trashing this time,” Mom said.
“It’s a different outlet,” Kaya said. “They’re covering the fashion show, but were smart enough to mention your name to ride your current notoriety and boost the article's popularity. They critiqued your outfit, complimenting the way you paired the classy pantsuit with understated earrings, giving your custom Zellon bracelet room to take the spotlight as we watched the show.”
I glanced at Konni. “It’s not marked as a Zellon piece.”
“I asked them not to put the usual maker’s mark on it so you could wear it discreetly. Someone either recognized the style or made a lucky guess.”
“Mmm.” I was too busy staring at my bracelet with new appreciation to say anything else.
“Does the article say anything else?” Konni asked, pulling out my chair for me.
“It speculates whether the clothes and jewelry are a sign that Sophia is riding Kaya’s goodwill,” Mom said. “However, there are a lot of comments pointing to Kaya’s livestream at Zellon yesterday.”
“Live stream? What live stream?” I asked, already using my phone to check.
“Just a little something I started doing because I was tired of people throwing hate on us,” Kaya said. “And it seems to be working. Half the commenters agree with the article, and the other half are accusing the outlet of blatant sensationalism.”
I found the article and the comment with a link to Kaya’s social media account.
She had a substantial number of followers for only having half a dozen posts.
I clicked on the most recent one, which was her critique of my outfit yesterday.
She’d been the one to point out it was a classy pantsuit paired with understated earrings, allowing the Zellon bracelet to shine.
The next video was at Zellon. She was in the main frame with me in the background over her shoulder.
“Look at her.” The camera shifted from Kaya to me, admiring something inside a Zellon display case. “She loves this place. She even owns one of their custom bracelets. But when I asked if I could buy her these,”—she lifted a pair of diamond earrings—“she said that being here together was enough.”
She sighed at the camera. “If I can't buy her anything, how am I supposed to prove to everyone that I don’t hate her? Her polite refusal might be great for her image, but it's terrible for mine. So, I’ll need to spoil someone else today.
“Comment with one good thing that happened to you recently for a chance to win these, and let's celebrate a little positivity instead of negativity.”
The comments were insane, especially Kaya’s announcing the winner. It had an impressive number of likes and an equally remarkable number of congratulations for the winner.
Going back further, I found a video from the night I worked on the Southside proposal.
I was sitting at the table in the background of her livestream, unaware as she talked about how much she loved having Mom and me there—how it eased her loneliness—and how she wished I didn't work so much so we could spend more time together, shopping or going to social outings.
I looked up at Kaya. “You’re brilliant. Your preemptive authenticity and sincerity clarified my reason for living here and why we’re doing things together. You’ll need to keep posting, though, or people will call it a gimmick.”
Her relieved smile didn’t make sense until she said, “I was so worried you’d be mad when you found out I recorded you without telling you.”
Mom snorted. “Not even if you recorded her drunk and slowly stripping as she staggers her way to her bed.”
“Hey,” I said. “I might object to that…if the angle or my expression aren’t flattering. But I’ve been told I’m a sexy drunk stripper.”
Konni’s fork clinked to his plate.
“It was Wrenly,” I said quickly.
“That doesn’t make it better,” he said.
I patted his shoulder. “The past is in the past. I’m not holding all of Lianna’s office pawing against you, am I?”
When he glanced at me, gold flecks were shimmering into existence in his irises. “I wish you would.”
“Eat your breakfast, Konni. We’re already running late.”
Both Moms hid their smiles as I hurried to finish my egg-topped avocado toast and rushed Konni out the door.
Thanks to Kaya, I had an idea that would benefit Steele Corp, me, and potentially Konni’s investigation, which I ran by Konni on the way to the office. After hearing it, he called Garth.
By the time we reached the executive floor, Steele Corp’s PR team had already released a statement about the Riverfront project, a combined marketing push and public opinion nudge for both Steele Corp and me.
They’d named me as the person directly responsible for closing a multimillion-dollar deal for a high-end resort meant to boost Motan’s tourism and create higher-paying job options in an oversaturated, low-paying job market.
Dropping my name while the fashion show was still trending increased the press release’s visibility—something that wouldn’t have been good for the company or me before Kaya’s livestreams. But now, thanks to an increasing number of supporters on the fashion show article, the debate regarding my authenticity carried over to the press release, bringing even more exposure.
While people were still very split about my role at Steele Corp, they weren’t as divided about the resort, especially the high-paying jobs aspect.
I smiled because, somewhere in Motan, a very angry she-dragon was choking on her prophecy of regret.