Chapter 45
ADRIAN
The private jet’s cabin was dark, most of the lights dimmed for the red-eye back to New York.
Briggs was sprawled in one of the leather seats, still clutching his tablet even in sleep.
Dash had passed out the moment we reached cruising altitude, headphones on, dead to the world.
Mom had retired to the bedroom in the back hours ago.
I would love to sleep, but I knew it was not going to happen.
It was just me and Sebastian. He was still alongside me. I wasn’t sure if he was staying awake to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid or if he was awake because he knew we had a shitshow waiting for us in New York.
We were both enjoying a drink. Well, several drinks.
“You look like shit,” Sebastian observed, pouring himself another glass.
“I feel like shit.” I took a drink, welcoming the burn. “The company’s in crisis. Fashion of Love Week might end up being remembered as Fashion of Love Scandal. And all I can think about is Elizabeth.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Sebastian leaned back, studying me. “You’ve checked your phone about forty times in the last hour. She still not answering?”
“No.” I had called, texted, left voicemails. Nothing. “Can’t blame her. I dragged her into this scheme and now she’s the one getting destroyed online. I can’t believe we’re in the twenty-first century and people are still blaming the women. As if guys don’t fuck women for the same reasons.”
As if I needed to remind myself how bad it was, I pulled out my phone and opened social media.
I immediately regretted it. The memes were vicious—Elizabeth photoshopped with dollar signs for eyes, Elizabeth holding a gold pickaxe, Elizabeth with various unflattering captions about social climbing and scheming.
“Put it away,” Sebastian said.
I sighed and blacked out the screen before putting the phone back on the armrest.
“People are cruel,” Sebastian said quietly. “She doesn’t deserve that. I liked her.”
“She’s not dead,” I muttered.
“But she’s not here,” he said. “You think she’s gone for good?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“This is fucked up,” he said.
I took another drink. “None of this is her fault,” I said. “She was doing me a favor—doing us a favor. Helping save the company’s reputation.” I drained my glass. “And now her name is mud while we get to just be the victims of a scheming woman.”
“That’s not the narrative we’re pushing. It was never the narrative.”
“Doesn’t matter what we push. That’s what people believe.” I poured more whiskey. “I should have protected her better. Should have anticipated this could happen. People suck.”
“I think we all underestimated how curious people are about our lives.”
I snorted. “No shit.”
“We all fucked up,” Sebastian said. “You, me, Briggs, Dash. We thought we could control this. Thought we were smarter than everyone else.” He swirled his drink. “But mostly you fucked up by not telling her how you feel.”
I looked at him sharply. “What?”
“Come on, Adrian. I’ve known you my whole life. I’ve seen you with dozens of women over the years. You’ve never looked at any of them the way you look at Elizabeth.” He leaned forward. “You’re in love with her.”
I started to deny it, but the words died in my throat. What was the point? “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. It’s the only thing that matters.”
“She left. She made it clear she wants distance.” I pulled out the note she’d left, the one I’d been carrying in my pocket like some kind of talisman. “Read it yourself.”
Sebastian scanned the note, then handed it back. “This is a woman protecting herself. Not a woman who doesn’t care.”
“Or it’s a woman who’s done with my bullshit.”
“Did you give her any reason to think this was more than business?”
I thought about Paris. About the way I’d almost told her under that streetlamp. About all the moments I’d held back.
“You really care about her.” Sebastian’s voice held wonder. “Like, actually care. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Yeah, well. Turns out I’m capable of feeling things after all.”
“You think I’ll ever find love?” The question was uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Real love, not just whatever I’ve been doing.”
“Not the way you’re looking for it,” I said honestly. “You’re trying to bury your grief in bodies and bottles, Sebastian. That’s not going to lead you anywhere good.”
He laughed, but there was pain underneath. “Well, I’m not looking to settle down yet. Just cause you’re a sucker doesn’t mean I am.”
“Settle down?” The words came out bitter. “She’s never going to talk to me again, much less give me another chance. What if I met my one soulmate and already lost her?”
“I think you might just be drunk.”
“I’m definitely drunk. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” I stared out the window at darkness and clouds. “I kept waiting for the right moment to tell her. Kept putting it off for one more day, one more conversation. And now she’s gone and she thinks this was all just business for me.”
“So tell her it wasn’t. Tell her when we land. We can work the rest of it out, but only you can fix things with Elizabeth.”
“She won’t see me. Won’t answer my calls.” I set down my glass, suddenly exhausted. “I fucked this up, Sebastian. Completely and totally fucked it up.”
“Then unfuck it.” He said it simply, like it was obvious. “You’re Adrian Blackwell. You can handle anything. So handle this.”
“Some things can’t be fixed with money or power or corporate strategy.”
“No. But they can be fixed with honesty and grand gestures and actually telling someone you love them.” Sebastian stood up, steadying himself against the seat. “I’m going to sleep. You should too. Tomorrow’s going to be intense.”
He disappeared toward the sleeping area, leaving me alone with the whiskey.
I reclined the chair and tried to sleep, but my thoughts were all over the place.
For the first time in a long time, I felt completely ill equipped to handle the situation.
I faced a lot of shit on the daily, but I always had a plan.
I had options and I could always figure out the right one.
But with my current situation, I was at a loss.
Two hours later, I had slept maybe ten minutes, but I had sobered up enough to think straight. The plane began its descent into New York as dawn broke over the city. Friday morning. The finale was tomorrow night. One more show, one more chance to honor my father’s memory.
And somewhere in that city below, Elizabeth was hiding, hurting, believing I’d never cared about her at all. I had twenty-four hours to fix this. To salvage her reputation and make her understand that what we had was real.
No pressure.
We landed just after seven a.m. I felt like death. I was hungover, exhausted, and emotionally wrung out. But there was no time to rest or wallow.
“Go home, shower, sleep,” Briggs instructed as we disembarked. “We’re meeting at three to finalize tomorrow’s show.”
“I have some things to handle first. I’ll be there at three. I promise.” I was already heading for my car. “I just need to take care of something.”
I drove straight to the Blackwell Couture offices, Manhattan morning traffic crawling, giving me too much time to think. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was too late. Was the damage irreparable? Would Elizabeth ever forgive me?
The building was mostly empty this early, just security and a few workaholics. I took the elevator to the workshop level, betting Annika would already be there. She practically lived in that space when she was working on something important. She had flown back about twelve hours before we left.
I was right. Found her at her usual station, surrounded by fabric and coffee cups, working on what looked like final adjustments for tomorrow’s finale pieces.
“Adrian.” She looked up, took in my rumpled clothes and haggard face. “You look terrible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Have you even been home?”
I shook my head. “No. Have you seen the news? The Clara interview?”
“Everyone’s seen it.” Her expression hardened. “That woman is poison. And poor Elizabeth doesn’t deserve what’s being said about her.”
“That’s why I’m here.” I ran a hand through my hair. It wasn’t like it could get any messier. “I need to fix this. I have to salvage her reputation and make people see the truth. I want to prove she’s talented and genuine and none of this was her scheme.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I came to you.” I met her eyes. “You’re smart, you understand this industry, and you know Elizabeth. Help me figure out how to make this right.”
Annika sighed and looked disappointed. Or maybe sad.
I knew the two of them had gotten close.
Annika didn’t like a lot of people. That was a testament to how right Elizabeth fit into my life.
She fit into all of our lives. That didn’t happen often.
My brothers and I had plenty of dates, but we never immersed those women fully into our world. Elizabeth fit. She worked.
And I needed her back.
“Why?” Annika asked. “Why are you trying to make it right? Tomorrow was going to be the last day. Why not just let it end?”
“What?”
“Why does it matter so much? If this was just a business arrangement, just a PR stunt that went wrong, why do you care about fixing her reputation?”
“Because I dragged her into this mess, and I can’t stand watching her get destroyed for something that wasn’t her fault. Because she deserves better than memes and mockery and being called a gold-digger.”
Annika offered a satisfied smile. I had a feeling I had just been tested. And apparently, I passed. “You came to the right place. I have an idea.”
“Tell me.”
I left the workshop with something I hadn’t felt since Milan—hope. With Annika’s help, I might actually be able to salvage things. We were going to unfuck her life. I would make damn sure the world knew Elizabeth was a talented designer and so much more than the bullshit lies people were spreading.
I prayed Elizabeth would give me one more chance.
Even if I didn’t deserve it.