Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I know exactly what she’s after, but honestly, I need to talk about it too. “Break time?” I suggest, and Chloe’s already heading for the door.
The moment my bedroom door closes behind us, Chloe whirls around. “Spill it! Is he with the mafia or not? Serial killer? What deep dark secrets did you learn last night?”
I sink onto my bed, Hailey perching beside me while Chloe paces excitedly. “I . . .” I twist my hands in my lap. “I didn’t ask.”
“What?” Chloe stops pacing. “You were alone with him all night and you didn’t ask about Julian?”
“I meant to!” I protest. “But last night he was . . . very convincing about other topics.” I feel my cheeks flush at the memory. “And then this morning he’s just . . . This morning he already had coffee waiting—that expensive stuff I love. And breakfast from Le Petit, which I swear I only mentioned once last week. Then he sat there asking about every piece in the collection like he actually cares about the creative process. How am I supposed to bring up potential criminal activities when he’s being so . . .”
“Suspiciously perfect?” Chloe supplies with a grin.
“I’m going with genuinely thoughtful,” Hailey says, but she’s watching me carefully. “Though it might be good to get some answers about the other stuff. Eventually.”
“I mean, there has to be something wrong with him, right?” I glance between them. “Nobody’s this perfect.”
“Tell us everything,” Chloe demands, settling cross-legged on the floor. “Start with the date. Hailey hasn’t heard about the rooftop yet.”
I can’t help smiling at the memory, as I tell them every detail.
“Wait,” Chloe interrupts as we discuss the rooftop date, “he has heating lamps AND fur blankets? That’s not surveillance, that’s romance novel hero territory.”
We’re so caught up in our increasingly inappropriate discussion of Cole’s . . . assets . . . that we don’t hear him enter. It’s only when Chloe asks, “But seriously, what’s he like in—” that I notice him leaning in the doorway, eyebrow raised.
The silence is deafening. Then Cole, perfectly deadpan: “Please, don’t let me interrupt what I’m sure is a fascinating technical discussion about jewelry design.”
I want to die. Chloe, naturally, just grins wider.
“We were just taking a break,” I manage, standing up quickly. “Getting back to work now.” I clear my throat. “Cole, this is Chloe Hallman—I’d like her to handle all the marketing for the collection if possible. And Hailey Parker, who might be joining us as my assistant.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Cole says with that smile that makes my stomach flip. “I’ll have lunch sent up later. Don’t work too hard.”
The moment he’s out of earshot, Chloe fans herself dramatically. “Oh my god,” she mouths. I catch Hailey’s eyes roll, but even she’s smiling. I can’t blame them—in that perfectly tailored suit, with his dark hair slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it, Cole looks like he just stepped out of a magazine. The kind you hide under your mattress.
Back in the studio, the afternoon is intensely productive. With Hailey’s guidance, I refine three pieces that had been giving me trouble. The collection is taking shape—no longer just pretty winter-inspired jewelry but statements of power and protection. Each piece tells a story of transformation.
As they’re packing up for the day, Hailey helps me organize the pieces into a cohesive collection story. “These aren’t just accessories,” she explains, laying them out in sequence. “They’re weapons disguised as beauty. Every woman who wears them will feel invincible. Like an Ice Queen.”
Hailey pauses, then turns to me. “Listen, about the assistant position . . . I’d love to take it. After today, I can see exactly where you’re going with this collection, and I’d be honored to help bring it to life. If you think we’d work well together?”
“Are you kidding?” I grin. “You’ve already helped solve three design problems I’ve been stuck on for days. When can you start?”
Plans are made for Hailey to return tomorrow. Knox arrives to escort them out, and I don’t miss how Hailey lingers a bit, or how he stands just a fraction closer to her than strictly necessary in the elevator.
After they leave, I settle back at my worktable, taking out fresh materials for one final piece. The design has been forming in my mind all day—a choker that reflects these new sensations of yielding and taking control. I work methodically, positioning each crystal with precision, creating clean lines that follow the natural curve of the throat. The metalwork is delicate but sturdy, the crystals arranged to refract light in sharp, controlled patterns. As I work, I think about last night, about the way Cole’s firm touch made me feel both protected and dangerous. This piece needs to do the same thing—to make the wearer feel secure while serving as a subtle reminder of their own power.