The city was loud. Smoggy. Slightly cruel.
But she was smiling.
Eliana clutched her folder like it was a lifeline, heels tapping briskly across the marble floor of one of the tallest towers in the fashion district. Her reflection flickered against the glass doors—flushed cheeks, glossy lips, hopeful eyes. She looked ready. She felt ready. Or at least she was trying very hard to pretend she was.
The truth was… her heart was still a little sore.
Three years with a man who said all the right things until the day he didn't. Until the day he packed his bags, took her favorite records, and left nothing but a note. No goodbye. Just "You'll be better off."
Coward.
Eliana inhaled deeply, letting the cool air inside the lobby rush through her like a cleansing wave. She had cried enough. Screamed enough. She have been eyeing this job before she applied to another company. And now with her ex, a co-worker, broke up with her—she is ready for a new adventure.
And here she was. Standing in the towering lobby of Luca D'Amour, a fashion label whispered like a prayer in high society circles. Elegant. Bold. Obsessively luxurious.
And—possibly—her future workplace.
She could barely believe she had landed an interview.
"I can do this," she whispered, mostly to herself, straightening her posture as the receptionist waved her toward the elevator.
Thirty-second floor. Executive offices.
A nervous flutter danced in her stomach. Luca D'Amour himself was doing the interviews, which was rare. Insanely rare. He was practically a myth. A fashion deity. Known for designing gowns that made women cry in the dressing room because they didn't know they could feel that beautiful.
And he was going to interview her.
Eliana stepped into the elevator. Mirrors on all sides. She looked at herself again. Soft pink blouse tucked into a cream pencil skirt. A pearl clip holding back her waves. She hadn't tried to be fashionable—just clean, light, fresh. Like a breath of spring air.
Like she wanted to feel inside.
Ding.
She stepped out.
The office smelled like expensive leather and freshly ground coffee. Everything was sleek—minimalistic, perfectly placed. White walls, gold accents. Not a single thing was out of place.
Except maybe her.
"Eliana Alvarez?" a voice called out.
She turned.
And saw him.
Luca D'Amour.
Everything about him was exactly as she'd imagined—tall, effortlessly chic, tailored to death. His black turtleneck clung like a lover. Hair slicked back with intention. Skin smooth, eyes sharp, and lips painted with the faintest pink gloss. He held a tablet in one hand, a glass of something sparkling in the other.
"Eliana," he repeated with a smile that was both wicked and charming. "You're five minutes early. I like that."
She stepped forward, heart thudding. "I didn't want to risk being late."
He gestured for her to follow. "Confidence. Punctuality. And you smell like vanilla and expensive books. My kind of girl."
She blinked. "Thank you?"
He laughed. "Don't thank me yet. Come, darling, let's sit and see if you're as competent as you are pretty." He sashayed to a door.
Eliana followed him into a private room—more art gallery than office. A single chaise lounge, a golden desk, racks of sketches pinned to the walls. He sat down elegantly and gestured the seat in front. "Sit, my dear."
She sat carefully across from him. Crossed her legs. Offered her resume with steady hands even though her fingers felt like live wires.
He skimmed through it in seconds. "Hmm. Office secretary at Morgan & Keene. Administrative assistant for two years before that. And… oh, darling… you organized a charity fashion event?"
"Yes," she said quickly, eyes lighting up. "It was just a local event, but we had over twenty models, three photographers, and the proceeds went to—"
He waved a hand. "You had twenty models? That's a nightmare. I've managed three and wanted to rip my own hair out."
She laughed, soft and genuine. "They were all volunteers. We bribed them with free brunch."
Luca's eyes sparkled. "You're clever."
Eliana shrugged. "I try."
"No, darling. You are." His tone shifted—still warm, but now measured. Intent. "You're competent. Articulate. Pretty, of course. That face… that voice. Sweet heaven, Eliana, has anyone ever told you sound like a summer breeze?"
Her cheeks flushed. "Um. No. Not really."
"Well, now they have," he said, rising to his feet, pacing slowly. "I've seen twenty girls this week. None of them made me smile. Not until now."
Eliana blinked. "Are you… are you offering me the job?"
"Oh, I never decide this quickly," he said, spinning back to face her dramatically. "But I want you. As my executive assistant and more importantly you are my 23rd applicant. I can't do this anymore! You'll shadow me, keep me on schedule, remind me to breathe, occasionally talk me out of dramatic breakups with silk suppliers. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Yes." The answer came out in a breath feeling like this is a dream.
"You start Monday."
Eliana's heart soared. Her lips parted.
He was already at the door. "Wait, come, let me show you where the magic happens. You need to know where the panic coffee is brewed and where I scream into throw pillows."
She laughed as she stood up, warmth rushing through her.
Luca turned, squinting at her outfit.
"That color suits you, by the way. Like strawberry milk on a summer afternoon."
Eliana grinned.
She got her dream job.