Page 200 of The Rebel Billionaire

“Half an hour is not going to derail you,” he says. “Take a break. You deserve it.”

I stand. “If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely.”

I move to forward the desk phone to my mobile.

“Don’t bother, I can answer the phone while you’re gone.”

What?

He smiles. “Go.”

“We’re going,” Elise chuckles. “Come on, take it as a win.”

I grab my bag as I step around my desk.

“I’ll see you in half an hour,” I say as Alex heads towards his office.

He turns. “Don’t panic if it’s longer. I know how these discussions can go, remember.”

He re-enters his office, closing the door behind him.

I stand and stare.

“Come on,” Elise says, tapping my arm.

We make our way downstairs and into her office.

She wasn’t kidding when she said samples had arrived. They’re spread out all over her desk.

“Take a seat,” she says, throwing aside the stack of glossy fashion magazines that was on the chair.

I drop down, clutching my hands together in my lap. She clearly hasn’t outed me yet, but is this a warning that she’s about to do so?

“That was some impressive work I saw last night,” Elise says, staring across her desk at me.

“Er… thank you.”

“Debra has no idea you work here?” she asks.

“Not before last night. Does she now?”

“No,” she says. “I guessed from the look of horror on your face when I walked in, it was a secret you wanted to maintain.”

“Thank you.”

“You never mentioned you were interested in fashion design. Although maybe I should have guessed. You had a natural flair in Italy.”

“Italy sparked my interest. Working here, being surrounded by fashion all day, every day…”

“I get it, I really do. My first weekend job was working in a department store, selling mass-market fashion. I was hooked after a couple of weeks, helping women find the perfect outfit. They moved me to their stylist service within a couple of months. Until that point, I’d been rudderless, about to finish high school with no idea what I wanted to do with my life.”

“I feel at home with clothes and fabrics,” I admit.

“Chrissie said she’s never seen a PA with such great taste. She’s usually forced to coordinate outfits for the secretarial pool.”

“I had Callie,” I say.