Prologue #2
It hadn’t been meant for her. It hadn’t been meant for anyone yet. It had been a centerpiece for the upcoming NY fashion parade—still unnamed, still untouched by anyone but me.
But when she stepped into it, everything clicked. The way her fingers brushed the sleeves like they were made of stars. It was hers.
I gave it to her that day and handed her a piece of my art that ended up for months after their wedding on the front page of major magazines. The collection lost its crown jewel. I told myself I’d make something new. I was still waiting for inspiration to come.
I should’ve been on vacation. That had been the plan. Travel, recharge, sketch on balconies in Positano or sip overpriced wine in Santorini.
Then, the week before, I got the call.
Nate’s voice, smooth as ever, came over the line. “We’re back in London. Why not coming over? We’ve got something you may find interesting.”
There hadn’t been a pause. No second thoughts. I booked my ticket the moment we hung up.
Now, I was here, tapping my fingers against the armrest, waiting to board. My phone buzzed in my pocket with a message:
Sebastian: Make sure they fed you well. And for god’s sake, don’t wear all black like a vampire. This was London, not Paris.
I rolled my eyes and smiled.
Sebastian lived out of a suitcase; his roots might’ve been in New York, but he was a citizen of the world.
Still, it was thanks to him that I was doing this at all.
If he hadn’t walked into my D.C. boutique and turned my world upside down, I’d still have been stuck in my office, sketching the same collections for the same stores and ignoring the fact that my dreams were bigger than my comfort zone.
London wasn’t just a business move. It was a leap.
I glanced at the boarding line. First class was starting to move.
The plane touched down with a soft thud, but my nerves jolted like I’d just walked into a boardroom half-naked. It wasn’t anxiety, it was something else. Something unspoken. Something tugging at me from the second I agreed to come.
I pulled my carry-on behind me as I stepped through arrivals, scanning the waiting crowd. I didn’t need to look hard.
Nate was there. Of course, he was there.
Impeccably dressed—no surprise—but with the casual edge that always reminded me he was more soldier than suit. Next to him was a wall of a man, arms folded and eyes sharp.
“Morris,” I greeted with a small nod. The bodyguard barely dipped his chin in return.
“Derek.” Nate grinned as he stepped forward, pulling me into a quick hug. “Welcome back to the kingdom,” he joked.
I smirked. “Thought this was London, not Narnia.”
He laughed. “Both have castles. And questionable politics.”
We moved toward the waiting car, a sleek black beast parked with the kind of entitlement only dukes and presidents could pull off without tickets. The moment the door shut behind me, Nate turned slightly, his tone dipping into that rare blend of friend and former soldier.
“So,” he said, “how’s life without Sebastian dragging you out of the studio for steak and whiskey?”
“Lonely,” I admitted. “And quieter. Sienna said I talked to my mannequins now.”
“She’s not wrong,” Nate chuckled. “Is Sienna your…?”
“Sister-in-law,” I nodded, already anticipating the next question.
“Right.” He sighed, dragging out the word like he was piecing together a puzzle he’d already solved. “You know, I had a bet going that you’d be the next one to get hitched.”
I groaned. “Don’t start with that.”
“Oh, come on.” He grinned. “You design wedding dresses for a living and still haven’t caught the love bug? Statistically suspicious.”
“Not only wedding dresses, but I’d seen enough madness in silk and tulle to last me a lifetime,” I muttered. “Besides, I hadn’t met anyone who made my heart flutter. Let alone actually beat.”
“Maybe London would surprise you,” he offered with a shrug, tone casual but eyes sharp.
“Don’t think so,” I echoed.
“O-kay… changing topics before you start quoting sonnets. How’s business?”
“Booming,” I said, sitting back. “Which was both a blessing and a curse. I was running out of reasons not to expand overseas.”
“Well,” Nate smirked, “lucky for you, this side of the pond had excellent tea, questionable weather, and some damn good locations.”
“And your charming company,” I added playfully.
“Exactly.” He grinned. “What more could a man want? We’ll make sure it feels less like a foreign country and more like… extended family.”
I glanced out the window. “Appreciate that.”
As we pulled up the long gravel drive to his manor, my breath caught a little. It felt like coming back home.
Which was ridiculous, really—considering I’d only been here twice.
Once for their wedding, a whirlwind of laughter, elegance, and vows that still echoed in my head.
And the second time… well, the second time was when Nathan came back from Germany after an injury during his last mission.
That entire period had been tense as hell.
A knot of anxiety sat in my chest for weeks.
I might not have shown it much, but the thought of losing a friend had shaken me.
I remembered pacing my studio in D.C., staring at half-done sketches, unable to focus. In the end, I reached out to Isabel. We weren’t close back then, not really, but I needed updates. I needed to know he was okay.
And she… she answered every time. Patient, calm, steady—probably more for me than herself. I couldn’t imagine what a nightmare it must’ve been for her, watching the man she loved fight through pain and recovery, newly married and already facing the kind of trial that tested forever vows.
But they made it through. Stronger, somehow, and it made me question this love thing.
The front door swung open before we even got out, and there she was. Isabel.
Her face lit up when she saw me, and despite the small baby bump the last time I’d seen her, there was no mistaking it now. Five months pregnant—and glowing in the most cliché but absolutely real way.
“Derek!” she beamed, practically waddling toward me with outstretched arms.
I laughed and met her halfway, careful as I hugged her. “Duchess, you were radiant.”
“And you were full of crap,” she said, swatting my arm lightly. “But I’ll take it.”
“You looked like you were hiding beach balls under there.”
“Twins,” she groaned. “Beach balls would’ve been easier.”
“She reminded me of Sienna,” I teased Nate as we all headed inside. “But way less grumpy.”
“I heard that,” Isabel called over her shoulder.
Inside the manor, it was cozy despite the size. Somehow Isabel’s presence softened the edges—turned aristocratic halls into lived-in comfort.
“You guys really did the whole honeymoon tour, huh?” I said, eyeing some framed photos by the entry table.
“Hawaii, Maldives, and a week back in Greendale,” Isabel said, collapsing gently into a nearby chair. “We needed something calm after all the paradise.”
“Calm?” I arched a brow.
“She meant boring,” Nate translated, setting my carry-on down. “We wanted to remind ourselves what the real world looked like. But it didn’t last long. Duty called.”
“What were you doing now?” I asked, curious. Not that he needed to work. The guy was packed with money.
“Private security and training for the army. Nothing really active.” He reached for Isabel’s hand and kissed it. “But before duty took over again,” Nate added, “we had your room ready.”
I shook my head. “No way. I’ll get a hotel—”
“Absolutely not,” Isabel cut in before I could finish. “You weren’t staying anywhere but here. Guest room was already made. Alice even fluffed the pillows.”
I laughed. “In that case… couldn’t argue with Alice.”
“You really couldn’t,” Nate smirked.
As we settled into the rhythm of conversation, tea appeared like magic on a tray beside us, and I felt something shift again.
Because in this strange corner of the world—surrounded by unexpected friends and laughter—I felt something I didn’t even realize I’d been missing.
Home.
The next morning, London was a crisp postcard of elegance and old-world charm.
Mist clung to the rooftops like the city was exhaling a secret, and I was sipping on what might’ve been the strongest cup of coffee I’d ever tasted.
Isabel insisted I try her favorite blend—something floral, bold, and overpriced—and now I was hooked. Figures.
By 10 a.m., I was stepping out of the car with Nate and Isabel by my side, heading toward a row of exclusive commercial spaces tucked into one of London’s most refined shopping districts. The kind of place where the air smelled like money and designer leather, and the doormen wore gloves.
Waiting for us was a sharply dressed man in a beige trench coat and a grin just a little too smooth for his own good.
“Oh,” I smirked as we approached. “The famous Landlon. The one who shamelessly flirted with my married best friend.” I still remembered how spooked Nate was for those fake pictures.
Landlon’s smirk faltered for a split second before recovering. “A man must try his luck where he sees beauty.”
Nate’s eyes narrowed—just enough to send a message without saying a word. Isabel chuckled and looped her arm through his with practiced ease. “Relax. I turned him down politely.”
“She did,” Landlon said with a gracious nod. “Crushed my ego in the most elegant way possible.”
“Trust me, better her than me,” Nate muttered under his breath. Oh, hell. I knew he was still holding a quiet grudge. He didn’t even want Landlon handling this tour, but Isabel insisted—said he was the best in the business and could help push the process along faster.
I shook my head, smirking. “Well, your heartbreak was my gain. Let’s see what you had.”
He led us through a series of boutique spaces, and damn—each one was better than the last. Polished oak floors, high ceilings, natural light that could make a mannequin cry from joy.
I found myself already imagining my collections displayed here—sleek gowns on raised platforms, mirrored walls, and the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air.
“I was in trouble,” I whispered to Isabel as we walked into the third space.
She raised a brow. “That bad?”
“That perfect,” I muttered. “I wanted them all. Hell, I wanted this one for my first international boutique.”
She grinned. “Then let’s make it happen.”
After Landlon gave us some privacy, I turned to her more seriously. “What did I need to open here? I knew British laws weren’t the same as back home.”
Isabel already had her iPad out. “First, you’ll need a business license, then register your company with HMRC, and I’ll put you in touch with our firm’s commercial advisor.
And yes,” she added, catching my stunned look, “before you say it—I was still technically on maternity leave, but I was pregnant, not retired.”
I grinned. “Remind me to send you a lifetime supply of thank-you flowers.”
“You already gave me a dress that made my in-laws and the world speechless. You were good.”
By the time we returned to the manor, I’d already contacted my lawyers to fill out forms. Something in me had shifted.
It was time to go home. To my studio. To the life I’d built with my bare hands.
Because now I needed a new dress—one to replace the piece I’d given Isabel to wrap up the collection for New York and focus on this new opening.
I needed a new assistant—someone who could run things with Sienna and James there while I prepared this expansion.
And for the first time in years, I felt it deep in my chest.
It was time for Wilson Creations to go global.