175
The elevator glided down one floor with a soft mechanical sigh, lights reflecting off the polished chrome walls. Danielle stood beside Amanda, practically vibrating with curiosity.
"Amanda, if you take me into some secret billionaire bunker, I swear—"
Amanda snorted. "Relax. No bunkers. Just... something that's important to me."
Danielle raised a brow. "Important like a surprise gift? A secret room? A pet tiger?"
Amanda shook her head, laughing. "You're chaotic."
The elevator chimed.
They stepped into a quiet, private corridor lined with sleek unlabeled doors — every suite private, soundproof, and high-end. It almost felt like stepping backstage at a luxury runway show.
Amanda stopped at a matte-black door near the end of the hall.
Her fingers fluttered over the keypad, her voice dropping to something softer, more vulnerable than Danielle had ever heard from her.
"Okay," she breathed. "Just... don't freak out."
Danielle crossed her arms, smirking. "Now I'm absolutely freaking out."
Amanda entered the code.
Beep.
Click.
She pushed the door open.
Warm light spilled into the hallway — golden, soft, glowing like sunset.
Danielle stepped inside...
...and her jaw dropped open so fast she actually slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Amanda..."
She whispered it.
The space was enormous — a fully renovated industrial-style loft transformed into a high-end design studio, the kind you'd expect from a well-known fashion house in New York or Milan.
The Studio
The main room stretched wide with tall ceilings and warm wooden floors. Natural light spilled through massive windows, illuminating:
Three long racks lined with Amanda's designs
Mannequins draped in luxurious fabrics
A curated inspiration wall of sketches, magazine tears, fabric notes, color swatches
A giant center worktable covered in patterns, scissors, measuring tape, and a half-finished gown
Shelves of labeled storage boxes, each holding notions, buttons, thread, embroidery tools
Polished mood boards for future collections
A chalkboard with scribbled notes like:
"FALL LINE — FOCUS: STRUCTURE + FLOW"
"Ericka Gala Gown — emerald or black??"
Danielle spun in a slow circle, eyes huge.
"Amanda... this is a whole studio. Like—not a hobby. Not a craft room. This is a fashion house."
Amanda lowered her gaze shyly.
"I've been building it piece by piece. Nights, weekends... whenever I could."
Danielle drifted toward the sketch wall, fingers hovering but not touching.
She saw collection notes. Garment ideas. Doodles. Fully rendered pieces. Croquis with Amanda's handwriting along the margins — strong strokes and soft curves, bold ideas mixed with tender ones.
Amanda's world was here.
Her talent. Her heart. Her dreams.
Danielle blinked hard. "You... made all of this? You drew these? Designed these clothes?"
Amanda nodded, cheeks warm. "Yeah."
Danielle spun toward her.
"You're joking. Amanda. Amanda — these look like elite fashion week pieces!"
Amanda laughed breathlessly. "Stop. You're exaggerating."
"I'm NOT!" Danielle insisted. "This one—" she pointed at a stunning dove-gray suit with sharp tailoring — "Ericka would wear this tomorrow. And that one—" she pointed at the emerald evening gown — "that's red carpet material. Amanda, what the hell?!"
Amanda laughed again, flustered and glowing.
"I wanted to show you first. You have amazing style, and you're the most honest person I know."
Danielle turned toward the second room — the fabric room — and gasped.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves held every textile imaginable. Silk rolls shimmered. Velvet and brocade fabrics sat folded neatly. Lace samples hung in cascading patterns. Denim, wool, leather, chiffon — organized like a rainbow, like a painter's palette.
"This is... this is heaven," Danielle whispered.
Amanda smiled softly.
"It's the happiest place I've ever built."
Danielle grabbed a handful of emerald satin, letting it spill through her fingers.
"You've been hiding a fashion empire under our noses."
Amanda leaned against the doorway, watching her take it all in.
"I wanted something of my own," she said quietly. "Something that wasn't tied to anyone else. Something I could grow into."
Danielle turned back to her, eyes shining.
"Ericka's gonna lose her mind when she sees this."
Amanda smirked. "I'm waiting for the right moment."
Danielle pointed a warning finger. "She better not find out I saw it before her. She'll have me thrown off the balcony."
Amanda laughed. "She loves you. She'll be fine."
Danielle walked back toward her, gaze softening.
"This is incredible. I'm proud of you. Like... really proud."
Amanda smiled — not her usual confident smirk, but something gentler.
"Thank you."
Danielle nudged her. "So what did you want my opinion on?"
Amanda motioned toward the emerald gown on the mannequin.
"I'm thinking of finishing this one for Ericka. Something special. Something... bridal without being obvious. Something she can wear the night of—"
She cut herself off.
Danielle's eyebrows rose. "The night of what?"
Amanda froze.
Danielle grinned slowly.
"Ohhhhhh...
Oh, Amanda.
Is that what this is?"
Amanda's cheeks flushed. "I plead the fifth."
Danielle squealed — literally squealed — grabbing Amanda by the shoulders.
"You're proposing, aren't you?! Oh my GOD—"
Amanda covered her mouth, laughing. "Stop yelling, the walls are thin!"
Danielle whispered loudly, "YOU'RE PROPOSING!"
Amanda groaned. "I'm so dead."
Danielle jumped up and down, vibrating.
"You need help choosing the outfit? The setup? The pictures?"
Amanda nodded helplessly. "Yes and yes Saturday."
Danielle grabbed her hand.
"Then let's start. Right now."
Amanda and Danielle were knee-deep in fabric options emerald silk versus midnight satin when a sharp, familiar rhythm sounded on the studio door.
Three knocks. Quick. Precise. Full of attitude.
Amanda smiled instantly.
"That's Samantha."
Danielle blinked. "You know who's knocking by... the knock?"
Amanda laughed. "That's her 'open up, I'm here to work' knock."
She crossed the studio and swung the door open.
Samantha walked in like she owned the entire floor — designer jeans, crisp blouse, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. She carried a garment bag over one shoulder and a sleek box in the other.
"Alright," Samantha announced, "let's make this engagement weekend ICONIC."
Danielle's jaw dropped.
"So you really are her partner in crime."
Samantha smirked. "Honey, I've been helping plan this proposal since the SECOND Amanda said, 'I think she's the one.'."
Amanda elbowed her lightly. "Don't expose me like that."
"I absolutely will." Samantha dropped the garment bag onto the table like she was laying out evidence.
Samantha lifted the velvet ring box with a flourish.
"Well we have work to do."
She opened the smaller velvet box the promise ring.
A soft, delicate platinum band with a subtle diamond that caught the light beautifully.
Danielle gasped. "That's stunning. She's going to melt."
Amanda swallowed.
"It's just something simple... something meaningful."
"And then there's this," Samantha said, pulling out the second box.
The moment the lid opened, the studio lights glittered off the emerald-cut diamond — elegant, bold, absolutely breathtaking.
Danielle nearly screamed.
"Oh my GOD. Amanda. AMANDA. That's insane."
Amanda whispered, "It's... exactly her."
Samantha nodded, proud.
"You wanted timeless, powerful, unforgettable — and THAT is what she's getting."
She set the rings safely aside and unzipped the garment bag.
"Now," she said, placing fabrics, color swatches, and design sketches across the table, "we finalize the outfit she'll wear for your proposal Saturday."
Danielle pointed at the lineup. "This is like watching a movie montage happen in real life."
Samantha grinned. "Except I'm the stylist, the director, the event planner, the therapist, AND the bouncer."
Amanda groaned. "She isn't lying."
Samantha spread out the options.
"Ericka's outfit: emerald silk, structured bodice, soft draping. Very CEO meets goddess energy."
Danielle was practically vibrating.
"Yes. Yes. ALL OF THIS."
Amanda rubbed her forehead. "I'm sweating."
"Good," Samantha said cheerfully. "Sweat means you care."
She opened her notebook — color-coded tabs, timelines, mock-ups.
"Okay. Tasks for today:
? finalize Ericka's dress
? finalize your suit
? finalize hair + makeup vision
? go over the schedule
? confirm florist
? sign off on the photographer
? practice the proposal speech"
Amanda threw her head back.
"NO. Not the speech."
"Yes the speech," Danielle and Samantha said in unison.
Samantha tapped her foot.
"You're asking the love of your life to marry you. You're not winging it."
Amanda groaned again. "Fine."
Samantha pulled a sleek velvet pouch from her bag.
"And ALSO — I brought additional jewelry options."
Danielle shook her head.
"You are not a friend. You're a full production team."
"Finally, someone sees the truth," Samantha said proudly.
Just then, a soft knock echoed from the hallway.
Amanda froze.
"Oh no."
Samantha raised a brow. "Expecting someone?"
"I wasn't..." Amanda whispered.
Danielle whispered dramatically, "Plot twist?"
Amanda peeked through the peephole — then relaxed.
"It's just the florist samples I ordered."
Samantha smirked.
"See? You're already becoming a planning queen."
Amanda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
Samantha stepped beside her and nudged her gently.
"You ready for this? Like... really ready?"
Amanda looked at the rings. Then the dress laid out. Then the vision board for Saturday.
And she whispered:
"I've never been more ready for anything in my life."
Samantha grinned.
"Good. Because we're about to give Ericka the proposal she deserves."
Danielle clapped excitedly.
"Let's finish this outfit and make history."
The three of them bent over the tables — fabric swatches spread out, dresses laid flat, rings sparkling under the studio lights — planning the biggest surprise of Ericka's life.
And Amanda felt it in her bones:
Saturday was going to be perfect.