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Laia is completely screwed—she knows that much. And even though she's not entirely sure she wants to hear the answer, she decides to go for it.

"Okay. Why were you late?"

"I misjudged when I needed to leave, add morning traffic into the mix, and the fact that I took the wrong exit."

Laia glances at her sideways as they reach the bottom of the stairs. She doesn't know whether to believe her, but she also doesn't know Claudia well enough to tell when she's lying.

"Why didn't you just say that to your aunt? She would have understood."

Claudia pushes open the factory door when they reach it and holds it for Laia, who goes still at the sight of the brief, dry smile Claudia aims at her.

"Because she wouldn't have believed me. It's too vague. You coming in or what?"

"Yes, of course." Laia takes two steps and can't help it—her shoulder grazes Claudia's chest as she passes. She stops on the other side, not turning around, focusing on breathing slowly enough to keep her brain from going oxygen-deprived.

The last thing she needs is for this woman to be attractive and kind. Why couldn't Elvira's niece be the person Laia had imagined—some random woman, sharp-tongued and arrogant, someone Laia would have despised on sight, which would have made everything so much simpler?

"I believe you," she says as they walk on.

"Really?" Claudia glances at her sideways.

Laia gets under her skin a little, and she also feels a flicker of sympathy for her. She seems too naive—and she is absolutely the worst possible person for this job.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you don't know me, Laia. Take some free advice: don't trust anyone until you know what they're actually like."

"You don't trust me?" she asks, and the genuine confusion on her face stops Claudia cold.

"Don't call it distrust. Just caution."

Their first stop is the fabric room, and Laia gives a brief rundown on the different types of material—not knowing that Claudia knows them better than she does. But Claudia doesn't interrupt. Instead she asks questions, showing a level of interest that Laia can't quite make sense of. Toni and Ana are there, and Laia introduces them because it seems like the right thing to do. She's caught off guard by the easy, genuine warmth Claudia shows when she greets them. She definitely isn't the woman Laia was expecting. Laia had braced herself for sarcasm, for the complaints of a rich girl being punished, for all kinds of drama—but Claudia doesn't seem to be any of those things. The only thing that gives away her inexperience with this kind of environment is that she showed up to a factory in heels.

They're heading toward the pattern room when Remei appears in the hallway and Claudia stops dead. She pulls up so fast that Laia almost walks into her, and when she looks at her, the most beautiful woman she's ever seen is staring at Remei with her eyes fixed and her mouth half open in surprise.

"Oh my goodness," Remei exclaims, pressing a hand to her mouth for a moment. "Claudia?"

Claudia lets out a laugh with her exhale and moves toward her for a hug. Remei holds her close, laughing softly and saying things too quiet for anyone else to hear, and when they pull apart, Laia is struck by the sight of Claudia's eyes glistening.

"Look at you," Remei says, moved enough that tears run down her own cheeks. "A grown woman. You're absolutely beautiful."

"I thought you wouldn't—" Claudia stops and swallows. "I didn't know you still worked here," she says when her voice finally comes back, low and unsteady.

"And where else would I be?" Remei laughs, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her fingers. "I'll retire here, sweetheart—that's the plan, at least. Come here, let me get a good look at you."

Remei places her hands on Claudia's shoulders and Claudia goes very still, except for one hand that comes up to wipe her eyes.

"I still have your drawings, you know."

Claudia laughs—a strange, short sound that doesn't quite make it all the way out because she doesn't have enough air left for it.

"I'd forgotten about those," she lies. She remembers them perfectly.

"Well, I haven't." Remei lets go of her shoulders. "What are you doing here? Is it true you're coming to learn?"

"Yes, something like that," Claudia says, glancing at Laia for a beat. "I'll be moving around a bit."

"Well, I can't wait for you to reach the pattern room. I promise I won't put you on sweeping duty." Remei points to the door on her right—an office with a glass upper half, a rectangular table in the center hung with pattern pieces on hangers, filing cabinets, and a smaller desk with two computers.