The twins scatter like roaches when the lights come on. I accept the call and paste on my most professional smile.
"Greer. Good afternoon."
"Dalla." Greer's face fills the screen, perfectly composed as always. "I expected your check-in this morning."
"I apologize. I got caught up in the work."
"Mm." Her tone suggests she doesn't quite believe me. "Show me where you are."
For the next twenty minutes, I walk her through the collection.
The finished pieces, the works in progress, the technical challenges I'm still solving.
Greer is exacting as always—questioning every choice, pushing for better—but by the end, there's a hint of approval in her expression.
"The coat is strong," she says. "The gown needs refinement on the back seaming. But you're close, Dalla. Closer than I expected given the... circumstances."
"I've been focused."
"Have you?" Her eyebrow arches. "Doran mentioned your protection detail has become quite... attentive."
I keep my expression neutral through sheer force of will. "RJ takes his job seriously."
"So I've heard." A pause. "I trust he's treating you well?"
There's weight behind the question.
A reminder that RJ answers to the Mackenzies, that Greer could have him reassigned with a single phone call.
"Very well," I say carefully. "I feel safe with him."
"Good." She nods once. "Final files by Friday, Dalla. Don't disappoint me."
"I won't."
The call ends, and I slump back against the cushions, suddenly exhausted.
Greer has a way of wringing every ounce of energy out of you, even through a screen.
"That looked fun."
I start at my father's voice.
He's standing by the bar, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
I have no idea how long he's been there.
"Dad. Hey."
"Greer giving you trouble?"
"Greer is Greer." I set my iPad aside. "She pushes because she knows I can handle it."
"Mm." He crosses to the seating area and lowers himself into the chair across from me. For a long moment, he just looks at me—his daughter, his little girl, all grown up and tangled in things he can't protect her from.
"How are you really doing, baby girl?"
"I'm okay. Better than okay, actually."
