The concern in her voice made something in my chest loosen, and I filled her in on Sage’s visit and my mother’s warning about not trusting someone close to me. I didn’t tell her about the phone call yet. I hadn’t fully processed that.
“She might not have meant Eliza,” Amina replied. “Did she say a gender? She could have meant Max. Or maybe you just had a bad dream and Sage isn’t all she’s cracked up to be.” She paused. “And I heard an airport being mentioned? You’re going somewhere with her again?”
“To Switzerland. But it’s work, and it’s during the week.”
Amina rolled her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.” She paused, her brow furrowed. “But are you okay, going to Switzerland? You’ve got a lot of history there. Plus, you haven’t been since your mum asked you to join the company and you told her no. Isn’t that going to stir emotions?”
I was determined to squash that particular factveryfar down. I already had enough emotions brewing without adding more to the pot. “It’s going to be fine. Two days, get the job done, come home.” I was such a good liar when I wanted to be.
She shook her head, but her eyes were kind.
“How is it really? Because you look thoroughly ravaged, but also... relaxed. More so than I’ve seen you in ages.” She glancedover to the kitchen counter. “And you baked scones. You haven’t done that since your mum died, either. These are big steps. Maybe Eliza is good for you.”
How could I know? I could only trust what I felt in the moment.
When I was with her, it felt like flying.
“Our connection is off the charts. We get each other in ways I didn’t know were possible. Like she sees parts of me I didn’t even know existed. I honestly never expected this to happen, and it’s scrambled my brain.”
Amina’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, honey. This is so much more than just a shag. That’s what I said when I met Noelle.”
“It’s not that simple." But even as I said it, I knew she was right. The thought of losing Eliza made me feel physically ill.
“If her intentions are good, it might be that simple.” Amina paused. “Plus, if you’re going to Switzerland overnight, your weekend rule is about to be comprehensively destroyed.”
I groaned and pulled a cushion over my face. Despite everything my mother had tried to warn me about, despite the fear and uncertainty, I had no intention of stopping it. I was already in too deep, and the thought of stepping back felt impossible.
CHAPTER 28
The SwissTok factory was built into the mountainside like a modernist cave, growing out of the rock as if it had always belonged there. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered views across the stunning valley. Rolling green hills dotted with chalets, Lake Geneva gleaming like hammered silver in the distance, and the majestic Alps rising beyond.
Standing there, breathing in the crisp mountain air — pine and wildflowers and pure freshness — I was suddenly 15 again. Slouched in the back seat of that rental car while Mum and Gran marvelled at being back in their beloved European mountains. All I’d wanted was Spain with my friends, beaches and absolutely no alpine scenery. I hadn’t returned since Mum died. It had been too much.
But now, I was here to learn what I needed to carry on her legacy. How she’d have loved this: research trips always made Mum giddy with possibility. Which only made me more determined to make every moment count.
“We’re so excited to have you here, Poppy.” Gabriel shook my hand. “I loved your mum, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, all grown up. Welcome to what we like to call, ‘the home of modern luxury’.”
Gabriel took us inside, then gestured to the production floor below. He was impeccably dressed in a way that screamed Swiss precision: tailored suit, perfectly groomed beard, smooth skin. I would lay bets that Gabriel had a moisturising routine. “We don’t just make watches here. We create lifestyle statements for the digital age.”
“Which is exactly the vibe we’re going for, too,” Eliza told him.
The last trip I’d come on with my gran — I must have been 18 — I’d sulked throughout, whining about the lack of Wi-Fi and how my gran dragged me on hikes up “pointless hills”.
“Each piece combines traditional Swiss craftsmanship with cutting-edge technology,” Gabriel continued, leading us down to the production floor. “3D-printed titanium cases machined to tolerances of one micron, movements that sync with satellites for perfect timekeeping, sapphire crystal displays that can show biometric data.”
The workshop floor was a symphony of old and new. Master crafters worked alongside robotic precision tools, hand-finishing components that had been shaped by computer-controlled lathes. Holographic projections showed tolerance measurements while artisans used techniques passed down through generations.
“This is incredible,” I murmured to Eliza, watching a crafter use laser engraving to create microscopic details on a watch face while a computer mapped every stroke. “It’s like they’ve found the perfect balance between old and new.”
“And look at the packaging,” Eliza whispered, gesturing to the finishing station. “Each box is bespoke 3D-printed bioplastic, but designed to look like traditional Alpine wood. Sustainable luxury. We could do something similar with the Highlands.”
The presentation area was more like an art gallery than a showroom. Each watch was displayed like a sculpture, with interactive screens showing the owner’s journey: from initial design consultation through to final delivery by a white-gloved courier.
“Our customers aren’t buying watches,” Gabriel explained, his eyes lighting up as he got into his stride. “They’re buying into a narrative, into a moment.”
He pulled up a holographic marketing presentation that made my head spin with possibility. “Social media integration, influencer partnerships, limited-edition drops that sell out in minutes. We never put things on promotion because we don’t need to. These are bespoke watches which are now must-have lifestyle accessories for those who value time and something special in their lives. You can’t put a price on that.”
“How do you manage the demand?” Eliza asked.
