“We’ll see about that.”
“I assure you, itwon’twork,” I huff, annoyed at his confidence.
Finally, he brings the car to a stop, except—we are right outside another mall.
“A mall? Again?” I ask, knitting my brows.
“This is a more exclusive mall,” he says, pushing his door open.
“Yulian, I really don’t need any more clothes, or accessories, or anything,” I argue, feeling a little disappointed that the surprise was justmoreshopping. With the way he was teasing me and dragging out the suspense, I was expecting something more creative.
“We aren’t here to shop,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him.
“Oh.” My curiously is piqued again.
I follow Yulian into the mall. He’s right. It’s really exclusive. The high-end boutiques have only two or three pieces on display in each window. The stores are more like workshopsand studios, where custom pieces are created instead of bulk-made fashion items. These are extreme luxury places.
My curiosity is bubbling over when he leads me to the door of a boutique that looks like it’s under renovation.
He slips a key into the lock. It clicks, and he pushes it open, flicking the lights on as he does so.
A gorgeous chandelier floods the space with bright, clean light. A wide oak workbench stretches along one wall, scattered with beautiful fabrics and crisp new notebooks. A paneled wooden wall draws warmth into the room.
There is a pair of golden sewing scissors on the wooden workbench, glimmering in the light.
On the far wall, in a perfectly designed space, is an industrial sewing machine and an overlocker. There are several mannequins stored in the corner and a space to hang patterns.
I brush my fingers over the golden scissors. My heart flutters, remembering what I had to put on hold for my brother. What in the world is going on here? Why does this place look like the studio I designed for my dream workshop? It’s not identical. But it’s so me. It’s so…personalized.
“What is this place?” I ask, almost a whisper.
“This is your workshop, Katerina.” Yulian leans with his hip against the workbench, his eyes tightly pinned to me.
“I…I don’t understand….” My voice is so tight my throat hurts.
He cocks his head to the side, his eyes burning into me as he watches my reaction.
“You will be fully responsible for this place. I am almost done with the renovations, so it’ll be ready for you by the endof the week. If there’s anything you want changed or added, or removed, just ask. This isyourplace. You can design the clothes you want to design, free rein over everything. I will help you find clients until word-of-mouth spreads, and you can find your own. This place is yours to do with as you wish.”
I stare at him in shocked disbelief.
“My own fashion design studio?” I blurt out.
“Correct,” he nods.
“This is…how did you know….” At first, the dream is overwhelmingly tempting, something I’ve desired for so long that my only thought isyes. Yes. Yes. Yes. But then reality bites down hard. “I can’t accept this, Yulian. It’s…it’s dangerous,” I sigh, fighting tears as I look around at the most beautiful studio.My studio. Filled with potential and possibility.
“Yes, you can do this. We’ll create an alias for you. Your first clients will only be people I trust fully. No one will know who you are. You’ll be a brand. An icon. And you’ll be safe. Later on, when and if you choose, you can switch over to your own name. The point for now is to follow your dream. The name doesn’t matter. Letting your creative self free is what matters.”
My mouth has dropped open as I stare at him. Tears are glittering in my eyes. I’m completely overwhelmed with happiness. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Why him? Why would he do this for me? How did he know? Does he understand how much this means to me?
“Kat?” he says, after a long moment of silence.
“I guess I was wrong,” I giggle, muffled behind a choke of emotion.
“Wrong about what?”
“You did manage to get into my good graces. You did win me over with this surprise.”
