I looked at Melissa with new eyes, noting the calculating way she surveyed the room even while hanging on Rafael's arm and whispering in his ear, the practiced ease with which she name-dropped and networked. Maybe I'd underestimated Vivienne's friend.
"The man-eater versus the womanizer," I murmured. "This should be interesting."
"My money's on Melissa," Vivienne said with a small smile, the first genuine one I'd seen since returning from my phone call.
"I have to ask," Melissa said, turning back towards us, her curiosity clearly getting the better of her, "What's your design process like for something custom versus your regular collections?"
I glanced at Vivienne, noting how she seemed to shift slightly at the mention of my work. "Collections are about concepts," I explained. "I start with an idea, a historical period, a social movement, an emotion, and build pieces around that theme. Everything is designed to fit standard sizing, to work for the broadest possible market."
"But custom work?" Melissa prompted.
"Custom work is completely different," I said, my tone becoming more professional. "Every measurement, every line, every detail is specific to one person. It's not just about fit, it's about understanding how someone moves, what makes them feel confident, what complements not just their body but their personality."
"That sounds incredibly time-intensive," Melissa observed.
"It is. That's actually why I had to reschedule a photo shoot for tomorrow, for my spring collection. I spent the entire week focused solely on this piece."
Rafael, who had been zoning out with glazed eyes, suddenly perked up. "So you basically study women's bodies for a living? That's genius, man. I should get into fashion."
My jaw tightened at the crude comment, and I saw Vivienne's smile falter slightly. "It's about craftsmanship and artistry," I said coolly. "The same way a sculptor understands form, or a painter understands light."
"Right, right," Rafael said with a knowing smirk. "All very artistic."
"The thing is," I continued, deliberately ignoring Rafael and addressing Melissa, "I don't ever do custom work at all. My business model is built around collections, it's more efficient, more profitable."
"Then why...?" Melissa asked, glancing between Vivienne and me.
I chose my words carefully. "Sometimes you encounter someone whose perspective challenges your usual approach. Vivienne's insights into fashion history and culturalsignificance made me reconsider some assumptions about how clothing functions as communication."
I watched as some of the confidence returned to Vivienne's posture at my professional acknowledgment of her expertise. Vivienne seemed to be engaging more naturally now that we'd moved away from Scarlett's poison and toward a topic where she could shine.
"Besides," I added with a slight smile, staring deep into Vivienne's eyes, "Working with someone who understands the cultural significance of clothing made this piece far more rewarding to create than any collection work I've done."
I watched as Vivienne's smile widened, as the light returned to her eyes. Whatever damage Scarlett had tried to inflict was already healing, replaced by the confidence that came from being truly seen and valued for her mind. And I'd be damned if I'd let anyone make her feel otherwise again.
12
Vivienne
I felt like I could breathe again. Julian's explanation about custom work versus collections had done more than just clarify the significance of my dress—it had reminded me of who I was beyond Scarlett's cruel observations. I was someone who understood fashion history, someone whose insights had actually influenced a renowned designer's work.
As Melissa and Rafael drifted away to network with other guests, Julian placed his hand gently at the small of my back, guiding me toward another section of the gallery.
"Feel better?" he asked quietly.
"Much," I admitted. "Thank you for... for explaining about the dress. I had no idea it was such a different process for you."
"Most people wouldn't," Julian said. "Which is exactly why Scarlett's comments were designed to make you doubt yourself. She has a talent for finding the exact thread to pull until everything comes apart."
We paused in front of a stunning sculpture, but before I could comment on the piece, I heard my name called from across the room.
"Ms. Ellis? Oh my God, is that really you?"
I turned to see a young woman approaching with a bright smile, her dark hair swept into an elegant chignon, wearing a simple but expensive-looking black dress.
"Sadie?" My face lit up with genuine delight. "Sadie Chen! What are you doing here?"
"I work for the gallery now," Sadie said, reaching us with obvious excitement. "I'm the assistant curator. I can't believe you're here! You look absolutely stunning."
