Chapter 66
HARPER
Bless Keith. It’s a relief to have him waiting when I exit the private practice.
“Everything all right?” he asks, holding the door open for me.
“Yes, apparently this isn’t unusual when you’ve had a nasty gastrointestinal bug. He’s running some blood tests as a precautionary measure. I’ll get the results back in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“That’s good.”
I slide into the back seat and wait while I’m driven to the office.
When I arrive, Lucia greets me as usual.
I make my way up to my desk and open my desk drawer, placing my handbag at the bottom. I check Alex’s calendar in case he’s added a new appointment. He should be free, but his door is closed.
I head to the kitchen to make us both a coffee, but change mine to a peppermint tea when the smell intensifies my nausea.
I knock on Alex’s door.
“Come in.” His voice comes from inside, and I smile.
Despite all the time we spend together, the deep resonance of his voice sets off a fluttering in my belly and an ache in my chest.
I push open the door, balancing the tray holding our drinks.
“Only me,” I say, stepping through.
I draw up short.
Alex is standing next to his conference table.
Pieces of paper are spread across the surface. On them are my designs.
Shit!
“I can explain,” I say, moving into the room and placing the tray down on his desk.
A heavy feeling squeezes my chest.
“Please do,” he says, his tone not one I recognise.
“I should have told you,” I say. “I wanted to… I just didn’t know how.”
“Tell me now,” he says.
“I’ve been attending night school.”
He inclines his head slightly, a smile twisting his lips.
“Night school?”
“Yes, I enrolled in the new year.”
“When is night school?”
“It was every Tuesday and Thursday evening, but I stopped when we got serious.”
“I see,” he says, although his tone is off. “Why would you stop night school because you were dating me? It’s not like we regularly see each other during the week?”
He sounds reasonable, but something in his demeanour tells me this is a side of Alex I’ve not experienced before.
The sound of my heartbeat thunders in my ears.
“I didn’t tell you about night school because I didn’t want you to think that I was only with you for a leg up.”
“A leg up?”
“Why are you being obtuse?”
“I’m just trying to ensure I understand what’s happened here,” he says. “Why the woman I’m sleeping with has two of St Clair’s latest fashion sketches in her drawer? Sketches that have recently been stolen from our design studio and sold on to one of our competitors.”
I freeze.
What? My designs have been sold to a competitor?
“That’s not possible,” I say.
“Believe me, it’s very possible. I received confirmation from Teresa this morning. These are the latest designs to have been taken.”
I shake my head frantically, my stomach turning over.
“I don’t understand. There must be some mistake. Have you spoken to Elise? She can vouch for me.”
“Elise? You’re going to drag her into this?”
“She knows about night school. She was our visiting specialist.”
“Are you trying to tell me my creative director has been lying to me for months about what my PA has been up to?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then how was it?”
“I asked her not to say anything.”
“And she agreed?”
I rub my forehead between my thumb and forefinger.
Think, Brooke!
“I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression that I was only interested in you for my career,” I say.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back.
“I… It… Look. I can only imagine how it sounds.”
“Can you?” His lips twist.
“These are my designs,” I say.
He lets out a dry laugh. “Your designs. A twenty-four-year-old with no previous fashion experience, and you expect me to believe you designed and produced these?” he says, pointing to the sketches and detailed flats that Elise had me produce.
“You may be great in bed, Brooke, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t take me for an idiot.”
I sigh.
“I’m not. I know it might seem far-fetched.”
“Far-fetched?” He shakes his head, letting out a harrumph.
“Do you know, I anticipated a more convincing excuse. You expect me to believe a couple of months of night classes would have you producing designs like these, with this level of technical detail?” His eyes never waver from mine, his expression hardening.
“How na?ve and stupid do you think I am? Even raw talent needs to be trained and honed.”
A trickle of sweat runs down my back, and black dots appear in my vision.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve studied design,” I say, meeting his gaze.
He pinches the bridge of his nose hard.
“Not the first time?”
I sigh. “I completed the first year of an undergraduate fashion design course in the UK, before I came to New York.”
He grabs a piece of paper from the desk and waves it at me.
My made-up CV.
“So, you’re saying this is fabricated? Because I’ve read it multiple times this morning, and I don’t remember seeing a full- or part-time fashion degree course listed, or a gap in the timeline where it could have been omitted.”
Oh crap!
“It… I… Please believe me when I say it isn’t what it seems.”
“Want to know something else? I realised today that your CV is perfect. Too perfect.” His gaze never wavers. “No timeline issues, no missing months. Everything lines up perfectly. Does my mother know who you really are?”
I stare at him, watching his expression change as every half-truth and lie falls into place.
“Alex, I…”
“Get out,” he snaps. “I need to think.”
“Alex, please… I can explain.”
Although I’m not sure how.
I can tell him the truth and break my agreement with The Seamstress and his mother. But he’s not listening.
I drop my chin to my chest.
“When Elise gets back, please speak to her.”
I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I turn and leave.
He doesn’t stop me, nor does he call after me. I move to my desk and grab my bag, blinking rapidly.
I will not cry. This will all be sorted out. Elise will tell him the truth when she returns.
I stare at his closed door before making my way to the elevator.