Victoria woke Tuesday morning with her stomach in knots, a sensation so unfamiliar she initially mistook it for illness. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been nervous about a business meeting. Anxious about outcomes, certainly. Concerned about board reactions, always. But this flutter of genuine nerves, this feeling like she was sixteen again preparing for a first date, this was new and unwelcome.
She went through her morning routine with extra care, choosing a Theory suit in dove gray that struck the balance between authoritative and approachable. Not that she was trying to be approachable. This was a professional meeting to evaluate a potential vendor. The fact that she'd been texting said vendor about dreams and libraries at midnight was irrelevant and would not be repeated.
Marcus appeared at her house at six thirty for their standing appointment, and she submitted to his ministrations with unusual impatience. He kept trying to make conversation about the gala, about who had been there, about Marcus Whitmore's obvious interest, and Victoria found herself giving one word responses until he finally took the hint and worked in silence.
"You seem distracted today," he observed as he finished her hair, sweeping it into the usual chignon with the precision of a surgeon.
"Important meeting," Victoria said, which was true if incomplete.
"The designer? Simone mentioned you were meeting with someone young and brilliant." Marcus met her eyes in the mirror. "She also said he's completely wrong for the project and you're going to hire him anyway because you need to prove something to the board."
"Simone talks too much."
"Simone knows you better than anyone." Marcus stepped back, examining his work with a critical eye. "There. Perfect as always. Though between you and me, you'd look stunning with your hair down sometime. Very Parisian."
Victoria thanked him and paid him and got him out of her house, then immediately pulled out the pins and let her hair fall loose around her shoulders. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Marcus was right, it did look good down, softer somehow, younger. She also looked nothing like the CEO of a billion dollar company.
She put it back up.
At the office, Simone was waiting with coffee and an expression of barely suppressed glee.
"He's in the large conference room," she announced. "Showed up twenty minutes early with his father, which I did not expect but is actually kind of charming. The father is delightful, by the way. Very working class Boston, completely out of place in our lobby, totally unbothered by it."
"His father is here?" Victoria felt her nervousness spike. "Why?"
"Moral support, I think? Or maybe Kieran wanted a second opinion. Either way, Declan Hayes is currently drinking our coffee and charming the receptionist with stories about ironwork." Simone grinned. "You're going to love this family."
"This is a business meeting, not a family introduction."
"Of course. Very professional. Which is why you've checked your reflection three times since you got here and you're wearing perfume, which you never do for vendor meetings."
Victoria refused to dignify that with a response. She gathered her materials, took a breath, and headed to the conference room.
She saw him through the glass walls before she entered. Kieran Hayes was exactly as she'd expected from his website photos and nothing like she'd prepared for. Twenty eight looked younger in person, or maybe it was just the contrast with the men she usually dealt with, all of them over forty and carefully groomed. Kieran's dark hair was slightly too long, curling at his collar. He wore a navy suit that fit well but looked borrowed, and his tie was already loosened despite the early hour. He was leaning over the conference table, pointing at something in his portfolio while his father, a stocky man with iron gray hair and kind eyes, nodded along.
Then Kieran looked up and saw her through the glass, and Victoria forgot how to breathe.
His eyes were impossible to describe, somewhere between blue and gray, and they fixed on her with an intensity that felt physical. He smiled, and it transformed his entire face from handsome to luminous, and Victoria realized with a jolt of panic that she was in serious trouble.
She pushed open the conference room door with more force than necessary.
"Mr. Hayes," she said, extending her hand with crisp professionalism. "Victoria Ashford."
"Kieran, please." His hand was warm and calloused, an artist's hand, and he held hers a beat too long. "And this is my father, Declan Hayes. I hope you don't mind that I brought him. He's my harshest critic and my biggest supporter, usually simultaneously."
Declan stood and shook her hand with a grip that spoke of decades of physical labor. "Ms. Ashford. Thanks for taking the time. My son hasn't shut up about this project for three weeks. If you don't hire him, I'll never hear the end of it."
"Dad." Kieran's voice held affectionate exasperation.
"What? I'm being honest. You said she values honesty." Declan's eyes twinkled. "Plus, I wanted to see the woman who's got you checking your phone every five minutes like a teenager."
Victoria felt heat creep up her neck. So Kieran had been affected by their text exchange too. That was good to know and absolutely couldn't matter.
"Shall we sit?" she suggested, taking control of the meeting before it could veer further into personal territory.
Simone entered then, followed by Robert Chen and two other members of the renovation committee. The room filled with the usual meeting preamble, coffee being poured, laptops being opened, small talk about weather and traffic. Victoria used the time to study Kieran when she thought he wasn't looking, except he was always looking at her with that same unsettling intensity.
"Thank you all for coming," Victoria began once everyone was settled. "Mr. Hayes, we've reviewed your preliminary proposal and your portfolio. I'll be honest, you're not the traditional choice for a project of this scope. Your experience in luxury retail is limited. You're significantly younger than the other firms we've considered. And your approach is considerably more experimental than what our brand typically embraces."
Kieran nodded, unfazed. "All true. Would you like to hear why you should hire me anyway?"
The confidence should have been off putting. Instead, Victoria found herself leaning forward. "Please."
What followed was the most extraordinary presentation Victoria had seen in her twenty year career. Kieran didn't use PowerPoint. He used his hands and his voice and physical materials, spreading fabric samples and tile mockups across the table, sketching modifications on the fly when someone raised a concern, talking about light and emotion and human experience in a way that made luxury retail sound like a sacred calling.
He'd researched Ashford & Co.'s history obsessively. He knew about Edmund's grandfather opening the first store in 1952, about the company's near bankruptcy in the nineties, about Victoria's own role in the turnaround. But more than that, he understood what the brand meant to people, the aspirational quality of it, the promise that luxury wasn't just about price point but about objects that would outlast trends and become heirlooms.
"Your customers don't just want to buy things," Kieran said, his hands moving as he spoke, creating shapes in the air. "They want to feel connected to something that matters. They want to feel like they're investing in beauty that will last. And right now, most luxury retail makes them feel like they're in a museum. Respectful, quiet, a little bit intimidated. What if instead it made them feel alive?"
He pulled out his renderings, and Victoria's breath caught. They were even more beautiful than the ones Simone had shown her. The flagship store reimagined as a space where natural light poured through skylights and reflected off hand painted tiles that shifted color throughout the day. Display cases that looked like sculpture. Seating areas that invited lingering. It was bold and risky and absolutely stunning.
"The central concept is metamorphosis," Kieran continued. "The space changes throughout the day as the light changes. Morning feels fresh and hopeful. The afternoon is warm and energizing. The evening is intimate and reflective. Customers don't just visit, they experience. They feel something. And that emotional connection is what creates brand loyalty that lasts generations."
Robert Chen, ever the pragmatist, raised his hand. "Beautiful vision. What's the budget?"
Kieran didn't hesitate. "Twelve point five million. I can get it down to eleven if we use domestic tile instead of Italian, but I don't recommend it. The Italian tile is hand painted by artisans in Ravenna who've been doing this for three hundred years. That's the story. That's the heritage. That's what justifies the price point."
"Our initial budget was eight million," Robert pointed out.
"For a boring renovation that would look like every other luxury retailer and do nothing to differentiate the brand." Kieran met Robert's skepticism with calm certainty. "You asked me to create something extraordinary. Extraordinary costs more. But the ROI isn't just in immediate sales. It's in press coverage, social media, word of mouth. It's becoming the destination instead of just another store. How much is that worth?"
Victoria watched the committee members exchange glances. She could see them wanting to dismiss this as youthful arrogance, wanting to play it safe with the established firms. She could also see them intrigued despite themselves.
"Give us a moment," Victoria said, standing. "Mr. Hayes, perhaps you and your father could wait in the lobby? We'll be there in ten minutes."
After Kieran and Declan left, closing the door behind them, the room erupted.
"He's twenty eight years old," Robert said immediately. "Talented, yes. But this is a twelve million dollar project. What happens if he can't deliver?"
"What happens if we hire the safe choice and end up with a store that looks exactly like our competitors'?" Simone countered. "We're losing market share to brands that feel alive, that connect emotionally with younger consumers. This is how we get that back."
"Or this is how we waste twelve million dollars on an experiment," another committee member chimed in.
Victoria let them argue for five minutes, then raised her hand for silence.
"Here's what I know," she said quietly. "Every major decision I've made for this company has been calculated and safe. And those decisions have been successful. We've grown revenue, expanded into new markets, maintained our position. But we haven't been remarkable. We've been solid. Respectable. Predictable."
She looked at each committee member in turn. "Margaret Ashford thinks I'm too risk averse to lead this company into the next generation. The board questions whether I understand contemporary luxury consumers. And honestly? They might be right. I've been so focused on not making mistakes that I've forgotten how to take the kinds of risks that create transformation."
"So this is about proving something to the board?" Robert asked carefully.
"This is about hiring the person who created the most compelling vision for our brand that I've seen in twenty years." Victoria's voice was steady. "Yes, he's young. Yes, it's risky. But look at this work. Really look at it. It's extraordinary. And I didn't build this company by playing it safe. I built it by trusting my instincts about what luxury means."
The room was silent. Victoria could see them processing, weighing professional caution against the seductive pull of Kieran's vision.
"I'm recommending we hire him," Victoria continued. "With protections in place. Milestone based payments. Regular reviews. An exit clause if he's not meeting benchmarks. But we hire him. And we give him the budget he needs to do it right."
"The board will have questions," Robert warned.
"The board always has questions. I'll handle them." Victoria gathered her materials. "Are we agreed?"
One by one, they nodded. Even Robert, though his expression suggested he thought she was making a mistake.
"I'll draft the contract," he said. "With very specific deliverables."
"Do that." Victoria stood, smoothing her skirt. "I'll inform Mr. Hayes."
She found Kieran and Declan in the lobby, the father telling some animated story about a construction project that had the young receptionist laughing. They both stood when Victoria approached.
"Mr. Hayes," she said formally, aware of the receptionist listening. "Thank you for your patience. Could we speak in my office?"
Kieran's face was carefully neutral, but she could see tension in his shoulders. He thought she was going to say no.
They walked to her office in silence, Declan tactfully remaining in the lobby. Victoria closed the door and turned to find Kieran standing at her windows, looking out over the harbor with his hands in his pockets.
"Great view," he said, not turning around.
"Kieran."
He turned then, and his expression was vulnerable in a way that made her chest tight. "You're going to say no. It's okay. I knew it was a long shot. The project's too big, I'm too young, you need someone with more experience. I get it."
"I'm going to say yes."
He blinked. "What?"
"I'm hiring you. Twelve point five million dollar budget, eighteen month timeline, with milestone based payments and regular progress reviews. Robert is drafting the contract now." Victoria allowed herself a small smile. "Congratulations, Mr. Hayes. You just landed the most important project of your career."
The transformation on his face was remarkable. Joy, relief, excitement, all flickering across his features faster than she could track. Then he was crossing the distance between them, and before Victoria could process what was happening, he'd pulled her into a hug.
It was completely inappropriate. Absolutely unprofessional. She should step back immediately and establish proper boundaries.
Instead, she found herself hugging him back, her face pressed against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, paint and coffee and something underneath that was just him. He was warm and solid and real in a way that made her previous life feel like a performance.
"Thank you," he said into her hair, his voice rough with emotion. "Thank you for taking a chance on me. I swear I won't let you down."
Victoria pulled back, trying to reassemble her professional composure. "You'd better not. My reputation is on the line."
"I know." His hands were still on her arms, and he seemed to realize it at the same moment she did, dropping them quickly and stepping back. "Sorry. That was inappropriate."
"It was." She smoothed her jacket, not quite meeting his eyes. "Let's maintain professional boundaries going forward."
"Right. Professional. Absolutely." But his smile suggested he found the idea as impossible as she did.
They discussed logistics for another ten minutes, start dates and team compositions and communication protocols. Kieran would begin immediately, assembling his crew, ordering materials, coordinating with contractors. Victoria would be his primary point of contact, which was both necessary and dangerous.
"One more thing," Kieran said as they walked back toward the lobby. "That question I asked. About what you'd design if you could design anything. Did you mean it? A library?"
Victoria hesitated. They were back to personal territory, the thing she'd promised herself she wouldn't allow. But looking at his open, interested face, she found herself answering honestly.
"Yes. A library. All glass and natural light. A place where people could get lost in books and find themselves."
"That's beautiful." Kieran's voice was soft. "You should design it. For real. Not just as a thought experiment."
"I'm the CEO of a billion dollar company. I don't have time for personal projects."
"You could make time. If you wanted to." He held her gaze. "Life's too short to keep all your dreams theoretical."
Before Victoria could respond, they'd reached the lobby where Declan was waiting. The older man took one look at his son's face and grinned.
"You got it."
"I got it." Kieran's smile was incandescent.
Declan shook Victoria's hand with genuine warmth. "You won't regret this, Ms. Ashford. My son's the most talented person I know, and I'm not just saying that because I'm his father. He sees things other people miss. He'll make you something extraordinary."
"I'm counting on it," Victoria said.
She watched them leave, father and son walking out with their arms around each other's shoulders, already talking excitedly about the project. Through the glass doors, she could see them pause on the sidewalk, Declan saying something that made Kieran throw his head back and laugh with pure joy.
When was the last time Victoria had felt joy like that? Uncomplicated and unguarded, just pure happiness about something good happening?
She couldn't remember.
Back in her office, Victoria sat at her desk and tried to focus on her afternoon meetings. But her mind kept drifting to Kieran's presentation, to his passion about creating spaces that made people feel alive, to the way he'd looked at her like she was the most interesting person in the room.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number that she somehow knew was him before she even looked.
"Thank you for believing in me. I promise I'll create something that makes you proud. Also, start sketching that library. Life's too short for theoretical dreams. KH"
Victoria stared at the message for a long time. She should respond professionally, establish boundaries, and make it clear that their relationship would be strictly business.
Instead, she found herself opening her desk drawer and pulling out her old sketchbook. And for the first time in twenty years, she started designing something just for herself.
Not because it served a business purpose. Not because it would impress the board or increase shareholder value. Just because it might bring her joy.
It was a small rebellion. But it felt like the beginning of something larger.