Chapter 37
Sky
With a blissful smile on my face, I read Kjell's message. I have to see you, preferably right now , it says, and I could swear that the letters on my phone screen look more beautiful today than usual.
I still need to review contracts, and the HR manager wants to talk to me about new hires. But as soon as I leave this office, I will belong to him alone.
Dinner? I type, while in my imagination, we're already sitting in the wood-fired hot tub on the terrace afterward, passionately kissing and cuddling while gazing at the starry sky.
Three dots dance across the screen. It takes an unusually long time for his message to appear. Okay.
We set a time, and then I reluctantly put my phone aside and return to the balance sheet I had opened earlier. I let my eyes scan the incredibly long list of numbers. Inevitably, I yawn. Mother was probably not entirely wrong; some of an entrepreneur's tasks aren't really fun. Besides, I find it hard to concentrate.
Since my conversation with Lil, one idea has been swirling in my head. It's there no matter what I do, it even haunts me in my dreams.
Chewing on my lower lip, I turn my chair, along with myself, toward the cabinet behind the desk and open the sliding door.
There it is, my design portfolio. Carefully, I run my fingertips over the leather cover. I brought it here this morning, hoping I would find the courage to show it to Kahlo.
The image of Kjell's expression when I tell him that my designs might one day grace the runways of the world flashes through my mind.
Do you believe in me now, how amazing you are? he would ask and gently pull me into his arms.
He knew it from the very beginning. Not for a second did he doubt. Kjell believes in me. So I should too.
"Now is just as good as tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or three days from now," I say to myself because that's the truth.
Well, not entirely.
The deadline for the Oscar dress is approaching in four weeks, and maybe my design from ?land could... "Nonsense," I quickly shake my head; this thought is just too crazy. I'm not a designer. I've only learned the basics at fashion school, and I've always enjoyed doodling. But I could become one—if Kahlo helps me.
Hesitantly, I pull the portfolio out of the cabinet, turn my chair back to the desk, and place it there. I open it and try to see the designs through Kahlo's eyes.
What would he say about the moss-green jumpsuit with the loosely tied ribbons? Would he find the floral summer dress too ordinary? Or would he at least acknowledge my talent to some extent?
Stop the useless doodling , I hear my father's voice inside me. See what you can do for the company instead of daydreaming.
I set the sketch aside, and then Kjell appears in his midnight blue suit before my eyes, and at that moment, I feel that it's not just useless doodling. This design has something special, not only because Kjell is wearing it.
"I can't believe it," a male voice says out of nowhere.
I hastily lift my eyes. "Kahlo."
He stares at my designs, his expression darkening rapidly. "What the hell..."
"It's not what you..." I jump up from my chair.
Kahlo doesn't pay any attention to me; he grabs the portfolio with the designs. "What is this?" He takes the sketches one by one, glances at them briefly, and then lets them fall to the floor. The furrows on his forehead deepen.
"I... well..." I should say these are my designs, but all I manage is a helpless stutter.
He comes to the evening gown I designed on ?land. Breathing heavily, he waves the sheet of paper in the air. The paper rustles dangerously loud. "You conniving, power-hungry little fraud."
Excuse me?
"I knew trusting you was a mistake," he says, his right temple vein throbbing. "You manipulate and sabotage wherever you can."
"No," I say with surprisingly steady voice. "Let me explain."
"How stupid do you think I am?" He slams the design on the desk and lets the rest of the portfolio fall to the floor carelessly. "Do you really think I don't know what's going on here?"
Inevitably, I cross my arms in front of my chest. "What do you think is going on here?"
"You didn't trust me to design the winning dress for the competition, and you secretly hired other designers to provide you with something." His eyelids narrow to slits. "When were you planning to come clean, hm?"
Given his words, I'm so dumbfounded that I can only stare at him. How did he come up with this absurd idea?
"You know what, foolish Sky?" He curls his lips downward contemptuously and points his index finger at me. "Do your crap on your own."
What does that mean? Does he...?
"You'll see how far you get with this ridiculous doodling," he growls in frustration.
Ridiculous doodling . The words pierce my heart like a thousand needles.
"What a disappointment you are," Kahlo fixates me with such disdain that a cold shiver runs down my spine.
Suddenly, I feel so small that he could easily crush me with the index finger he still points at me. Darkness surrounds me. Dark and cold.
Not only because Kahlo has completely misinterpreted this situation but also because he finds my designs laughable. Heaven, I should have realized that Kjell is not capable of evaluating my designs. How could he know what's good? And I, a foolish, lovesick fool, simply believed him that they were worth something. For a moment, I even thought that a designer was hidden within me.
As I continue to slump further, Kahlo looms larger before me. "Gustav is right to be ashamed of you."
"Please, just listen to me," I beg him. But this attempt to salvage the situation also fails.
"No, you listen now!" he shouts loudly. "I quit!" With a flushed face, he turns on the spot and rushes to the door. Once there, he turns to me. His upper body trembles so intensely that his fine hairs quiver. "Goodbye."
I don't understand what's happening here. Who will design the Oscar dress? Who will finish the next collection?
"Please let me explain," I find myself pleading with him. I reach out my hand toward him. " Touch av lyx needs you."
"Why?" His expression turns ice-cold. "The label has you. And besides, you're not alone."
That's true. The staff is behind me. They will support me, and I'm grateful for that. But without him...
Now his lips curl into a malicious grin. "After all, you have your journalist friend, don't you?"
Journalist friend? Whom is he referring to?
"Oh, you don't know?" His eyebrows raise. "What anyone else could figure out with a little goodwill," he adds sarcastically. "Poor little foolish Sky." He shakes his head as if he pities me.
What is this? I don't have...
"Poor. Little. Foolish. Sky," he mutters again, then turns away and disappears from my field of vision a fraction of a second later.
Oh man, he doesn't mean...
An unprecedented panic overwhelms me.
I sprint to the desk. Open the browser.
Type in the search term with trembling fingers: Kjell Mattson .
Enter.