The design floor at StoneTech buzzed with frantic energy. Assistants dashed between desks, fabric samples littered every surface, and printers whined as if protesting the heavy load of presentations being churned out.
Chloe stood at the long glass table, her sketches neatly pinned to a board. She adjusted the edges one last time, though her hands weren't as steady as she wished.
She had spent most of the weekend refining these pieces — she'd even skipped Sunday brunch with Bella, Rachel and Timothy just to make sure things were perfect.
She was determined not to let her rival shake her. But as soon as Damian Cross walked in, she knew the morning wouldn't go easy.
He didn't make an entrance; he simply was an entrance. All sharp lines, immaculate suit, black sketchbook tucked under his arm. His presence shifted the air the way a storm rolls into a clear sky. Conversations dimmed as eyes followed him, though he didn't acknowledge anyone. He didn't have to.
