My face burned. The implication was clear—I was unremarkable, certainly not the kind of woman someone like Julian would normally be seen with.
"I mean, good for him for doing some charity work," Scarlett continued, as if she were complimenting Julian on volunteering at a soup kitchen. "Though after that little scene with the performance artist, you might want to be more careful about photo ops. This crowd can be quite… judgmental about inappropriate behavior."
The words hit me like physical blows.Charity work. Inappropriate behavior.As if Julian was doing someone a favor, and I was already embarrassing him.
"Vivienne?" Julian's voice came from behind me, and I turned to see him approaching, his phone call apparently finished. "Do you know Scarlett?"
"We were just—" I started.
"We just met!" Scarlett interrupted smoothly, her entire demeanor shifting as Julian approached. "I was just telling Vivienne how lovely she looks tonight. So refreshing to see you branching out, Julian." She swept forward and air-kissed his cheek. "I simply must dash, I see the Weatherbys over there and they're dying to discuss commissioning something from Haversham’s new collection. Enjoy the evening, you two."
She glided away, leaving me standing there feeling like I'd been dissected and found wanting. The confidence I'd built throughout the evening felt fragile now, cracked by Scarlett's cutting observations and the embarrassing photo incident.
Charity work. Inappropriate behavior. Ordinary.
Julian was looking at me with concern in his eyes, but I couldn't meet them for more than a second. He reached for my hand, the black leather of his gloves cool against my skin. It grounded me more than bare skin might have—intentional, controlled, like everything about him. But it couldn't completely ease my internal dread. Had I really been fooling myself all evening, thinking I belonged here? Was I just Julian's good deed for the month?
Inside, I felt small and out of place in a way I hadn't since walking through those gallery doors. Scarlett's words echoed in my mind, a reminder that no matter how well I could discuss art or history, I would always be an outsider in Julian's world.
11
Julian
The change in Vivienne's demeanor was immediate and devastating. Where moments before she'd been radiant, engaging with art and people with passionate intelligence, now she looked diminished, as if someone had systematically dismantled her confidence piece by piece.
I had only stepped away for a few minutes for a call with Roy about tomorrow's photo shoot, the one I'd had to move when I was working around the clock to finish Vivienne's dress. One brief call about work logistics, and I'd left Vivienne vulnerable to Scarlett's vicious claws.
Damn it.My jaw clenched as I recognized the signs. I'd seen this before, Scarlett's particular brand of psychological warfare that left her targets questioning their worth, their place, their very right to exist in the same space as her. Last year, one of my most promising young designers had quit the industry entirely after a ‘conversation’ with Scarlett at a similar event. The woman had been brilliant, innovative, but Scarlett had found every insecurity and exploited it with surgical precision.
I had only learned about it weeks later, when it was too late to undo the damage.
"Everything alright?" I asked softly, though I already knew the answer.
"Fine," Vivienne managed, but her smile was brittle, forced—a pale imitation of the genuine excitement that had lit up the room earlier. "Just… taking it all in."
I studied her face, noting the careful way she avoided my eyes, the slight tremor in her hands as she clutched her purse. Scarlett had done her work well, planting seeds of doubt that were already taking root.
I was about to ask her directly what had happened when a feminine voice called out behind us.
"Vivienne? Oh my God, is that really you?"
We both turned to see a blonde woman in a shimmering silver dress making her way toward us, her face bright with surprise and excitement.
"Melissa?" Vivienne's voice carried genuine shock. "What are you doing here?"
My eyes narrowed slightly as the name registered. Melissa. The friend who'd abandoned Vivienne at The Orpheum, leaving her vulnerable to those drunk idiots at the bar.
If not for Melissa's flakiness, I might never have met Vivienne at all—though that didn't make me any more inclined to like the woman.
"Rafael brought me," Melissa said, reaching us with a flurry of air kisses and expensive perfume. "This is such a coincidence, I had no idea you'd be here!" Her gaze shifted to me, and her eyes widened with recognition. "And you're… oh my God, you're Julian Thorne."
"Melissa Torres," she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I'm Vivienne's friend from college."
I nodded simply, accepting her handshake while noting how Vivienne seemed caught off guard by her friend's appearance.
"This is so incredible," Melissa continued, her attention shifting back to Vivienne. "I mean, what are the odds? And that dress—" She paused, tilting her head as she studied the emerald silk with obvious confusion. "It's gorgeous, but I don't recognize it. Which collection is it from?"
I felt something cold settle in my stomach as I saw Vivienne's face pale. Whatever Scarlett had said to her, it had clearly involved the dress.
