Chapter Two
The whispers had barely died down by the time Kayden Winthrop disappeared into the elevator with his guards.
The glass doors slid shut behind him with a hiss, and the fashion floor slowly returned to life—though every designer wore the same dazed expression.
Esmeray stayed frozen at her desk, heart still fluttering from the unexpected encounter. She inhaled slowly, pressing a palm to her chest.
Breathe. He's gone. This doesn't concern you.
She was just an assistant. A new one at that. She had no business occupying any space in Kayden Winthrop's orbit—accidental or not.
Before she could gather her scattered thoughts, a voice snapped behind her.
"Miss Collins?"
Esmeray turned. A woman in her forties stood by the end of the desk, a measuring tape draped around her neck and a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes behind her glasses. Her bun was tight, her brows tighter.
"Y-yes," Esmeray said, straightening quickly.
"I'm Gwen Hollis," she said flatly. "Your supervisor."
Gwen didn't smile, didn't offer a handshake. She didn't believe in such luxuries.
"Winthrop Couture," she began, "is not a playground, nor is it a place where you come to 'find yourself.' We expect excellence, precision, and loyalty. If you give less than that, you won't last a day here."
Esmeray nodded quickly. "Understood."
"You may find the environment… demanding," Gwen continued. "And we expect you to be self-sufficient. Your portfolio shows potential, but potential is not useful without discipline."
"I'm ready to work hard," Esmeray said, swallowing her nerves. "I promise."
Gwen studied her for a moment—an intimidating, silent assessment."You survived Kayden's entrance without fainting. That's a good start," she said dryly.
Esmeray blinked. Was… was that humor?
Before she could decide, Gwen waved her along toward a row of drafting tables.
"You'll start by shadowing Mira, one of our senior designers. Learn our system, our fabrics, our workflow. No independent tasks until I approve."
Esmeray nodded obediently as they walked past racks of shimmering textiles.
"And Miss Collins," Gwen added without looking back, "do not get involved in any Winthrop family matters. That includes the son."
Esmeray stiffened. "Oh…no, no. I wouldn't. I didn't plan to…"
"Good. Keep it that way."
Gwen gestured toward a young woman with short curly hair bending over a sketchpad.
"Mira, this is your shadow for next week. Don't break her spirit too quickly."
Mira looked up, grinned, and extended a hand. "I'll try not to. Hi, I'm Mira."
Esmeray shook her hand, grateful for a friendly face.
"Welcome to the circus," Mira said. "We juggle needles instead of fire. Mostly."
Esmeray laughed—her first laugh of the day.
Maybe she could survive this place after all.
☆☆☆☆
♡LUNCH BREAK♡
Esmeray stepped outside the building and into the fresh afternoon air, her little blue purse and phone in her hand.
Her phone buzzed.
Rebecca Collins---her elder sister.
Esmeray sighed but answered.
"Hello?"
"Tell me one good reason," Rebecca's voice thundered immediately, "why your location says Winthrop Couture."
Esmeray groaned inwardly. "Rebecca, don't yell. I'm on my break."
"Break? BREAK? Esmeray, how could you take a job there? Why didn't you tell me?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Because I knew you'd react like this."
"Of course I'm reacting!" Rebecca snapped. "That company belongs to them. The Winthrops. Do you realize what that means?"
"That it's a good job?" Esmeray offered weakly.
"That it's dangerous," Rebecca corrected. "And irresponsible. And—Esmeray, Vincent would lose his mind if he found out."
Esmeray winced. "Which is why I'm asking you not to tell him. Not yet. Please." Silence stretched for a moment.
"Esme," Rebecca said more gently, "you know how Vincent feels about Kayden's family. How deep that rivalry runs. If he finds out you're working under their mother, he'll pull you out of there by your ear."
Esmeray leaned against a lamppost, staring up at the sky. "I need this job, Rebecca. I've tried everywhere else. Winthrop Couture was the only place that gave me a chance."
"You could've waited. You could've found something safer."
"But I didn't," Esmeray said quietly. "And I don't want to quit."
Rebecca sighed heavily. "Fine. I won't tell Vincent. For now."
Esmeray exhaled in relief.
"But Esme…"
"Hmm?"
"You stay away from Kayden Winthrop. Absolutely, completely, permanently. I mean it. If I even sense you're getting close to him, I will come there myself and drag you home."
Esmeray almost choked. "Rebecca! No one is getting close to anyone! He barely looked at me!"
Which wasn't technically a lie. He looked at her… but she wasn't going to die because of a look. And Rebecca definitely didn't need that detail.
Rebecca sighed again. "Just… do your job. Don't start trouble. Don't get noticed. And for the love of everything good, don't cross paths with Kayden Winthrop."
"I won't," Esmeray said quickly. "Promise."
"Good. And Esme?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens—don't let that place change who you are."
Esmeray's chest softened. "I won't."
They ended the call.
Esmeray inhaled, steadied herself, and headed toward the café across the street.
Her phone rang again as she stepped inside, this time with a contact name that made her smile.
Francesca Wells---her bestie.
She answered at once. "Hey, Frankie."
"Girl!" Francesca's excited voice blasted through the phone. "How's your first day? Did anyone yell? Did you cut your finger? Did you see any celebrities? Did you—"
"Frankie, breathe."
"I did breathe. Twice. So, tell me everything!"
Esmeray laughed and carried her food tray to a corner table.
"It's… intense," she admitted. "Very strict. Very fancy. Very scary."
"Scary?" Francesca gasped. "Did they threaten your life? Did someone slap you with a measuring tape? Did—"
"Frankie." Esmeray tried not to laugh harder. "No one slapped me."
"Yet," Francesca corrected. "So? Tell me about your supervisor."
"She's strict, extremely smart, and probably allergic to smiling."
"So she's Gwen Hollis."
Esmeray blinked. "You know her?"
"Everyone knows her. She once made a designer redo an entire bridal collection because she said the fabric 'looked like a depressed cloud.' She's a legend."
"She's terrifying."
"A terrifying legend," Francesca corrected helpfully.
Esmeray snorted.
She didn't mention Kayden. She didn't mention his intense gaze or the way he walked toward her like he knew her, like he needed to confirm something.
She didn't want Francesca to overreact. Or panic. Or run to Vincent.
"So…" Francesca drawled dramatically. "Any cute coworkers? Cute bosses? Cute passing strangers?"
"Frankie—"
"What? I'm trying to help your love life."
Esmeray rolled her eyes and took a sip of water. "I'm here to work, not look for cute strangers."
"So no one interesting happened today?"
Esmeray pursed her lips. "Not… relationally."
"Ooh," Francesca sang. "Sounds like something definitely happened."
"Nothing happened!"
"You're lying."
"I'm not!"
Francesca squealed. "I can hear your blush."
Esmeray buried her face in her hands. "You're impossible."
Francesca laughed heartily. "Alright, alright. I'll let you survive your first day before interrogating you again. But Esme?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm proud of you. Really."Esmeray's smile softened.
"Thank you, Frankie."
They talked a few more minutes, mostly jokes and light teasing, before Esmeray ended the call and headed back to work.
☆☆☆☆
(Across town, in a luxury PR office)
Gina Andrews sat on the edge of the conference table, her long legs crossed elegantly, her glossy hair cascading down her shoulders like she lived in a perfume commercial.
Her manager paced behind her.
"You can't keep focusing on Kayden, Gina. Obsession doesn't look good professionally."
"It's not an obsession," Gina said coolly. "It's alignment."
"Alignment?"
"Yes." She smiled, perfectly rehearsed.
"Kayden and I are meant to be the industry's power duo. The fans already see us that way. You've seen the edits, the fan art, the hashtags."
"That doesn't make it real."
"Not yet," she corrected.
Her manager sighed. "Gina, he doesn't—"
"He will." Her tone hardened. "Kayden is stubborn. He likes challenges. And I'm the only challenge big enough for him."
She slid off the table, heels clicking sharply.
"He just needs time," she said softly. "And I intend to give him exactly that… until he realizes I'm the only woman who fits beside him."She paused, eyes glowing with determination—the kind that could choke forests.
"And when he finally sees it," she whispered, "no one will be able to take him away from me."