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185 An Unexpected Connection
185 An Unexpected Connection
He nodded. “I figured if I couldn’t create the art, I could at least help artists thrive?
The restaurant Quentin chose was upscale yet comfortable, with private booths for each table. Steam rose from the hot pots, filling the air with delicious aromas of spices and herbs.
I closed my laptop, making a decision. “Let me treat you to dinner. As thanks for all your help this weekend.”
I tensed slightly. “You can ask. I might not answer.”
“You can get it next time,” he said, then quickly added, “if there is a next time, professionally speaking.”
The question caught me off guard. It wasn’t intrusive in the way I’d expected, but it cut straight to something essential.
As we walked down the hallway, I absently touched the bump on my forehead. It was still tender but less swollen thanks to the ice pack Quentin had insisted on yesterday.
By midafternoon, my head was throbbing again, but I pushed through. My career was the only thing I could truly count on now. Not family, not love–just my own talent and determination.
I sat at my desk, replaying my conversation with Sebastian from yesterday. The genuine concern in his voice still rang in my ears, making me feel guilty for how coldly I’d reacted. He had only been trying to help, and I’d pushed him away like his care was an inconvenience.
“Honestly?” He looked slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been craving hot pot for days. There’s a great place near here.”
“Thank you for the company,” he replied. “It’s nice to find someone who shares so many of my viewpoints on the industry.”
Quentin shook his head. “No girlfriend. No one waiting.” He paused. “And you? Besides that ‘complicated‘ friend from yesterday?”
“My mother was a seamstress,” he explained, his expression softening with memory. “I
186 An Unexpected Connection
grew up watching her create beautiful things from nothing but fabric and thread. I wanted to be part of that world, but my talents lay elsewhere.”
I hesitated. “People talk.”
“A woman after my own heart, he joked, then quickly added, “professionally speaking,
of course.
We spent the morning reviewing my past collections, analyzing what had worked and what hadn’t. Quentin had clearly done his homework, speaking intelligently about designs I’d created years ago.
I gave him a pointed look. “My personal life is just that–personal.”
“So have you,” I pointed out..
“Great minds think alike,” he replied with a smile, dipping a piece of beef into the bubbling broth.
“And you want to prove them wrong,” he finished my thought.
From his bag, he pulled out a small thermos. “Hot water. I noticed yesterday your hands were cold while working. Thought this might help.”
“That’s surprisingly philosophical, I observed.
Quentin’s eyes held mine, his gaze understanding rather than pitying. “That explains your resilience. It’s impressive.”
As we finished our meal, Quentin insisted on handling the bill despite my protests.
My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Quentin stood there, laptop in hand, his expression eager but professional.
“Good morning,” he said. “Ready to continue where we left off yesterday?”
“Sorry,” we said simultaneously, then laughed.
“Second thoughts?” Quentin asked, reading my expression.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he said with mock seriousness. “I’ve cultivated a reputation as a numbers guy.”
I nodded, forcing myself to focus on work. “Absolutely. Let’s use the conference room
again.”
185 An Unexpected Connection
“That’s… very considerate, I said, accepting the thermos. The warmth immediately. seeped into my perpetually cold fingers..
“Of course. He smiled, setting his laptop down on the conference table. “I brought you something, by the way.”
“Curiosity,” he said without hesitation. “I want to see what happens next. In fashion, in busines
in life–I’m driven by wanting to know what’s around the corner.”
“Can I ask you something personal?” he said after a pause.
“Your early work had this beautiful raw edge,” he noted, scrolling through photos on his laptop. “But your more recent collections show incredible refinement without losing that initial spark.”
“How’s the head?” he asked, noticing my gesture.
Our food arrived, and we fell into comfortable conversation about industry trends, designers we admired, and our respective career paths. I was surprised by how many of our opinions aligned–from our admiration for certain avant–garde designers to our distaste for fast fashion’s environmental impact.
“Let’s talk about Milan, Quentin suggested, pulling up a fresh document. “Fashion Week is coming up in three months. What’s your vision?”
“Necessity,” I answered honestly. “When you grow up knowing no one will catch you if you fall, you learn to stand no matter what.”
“Exactly.” I smiled, appreciating his quick understanding. “I’m thinking of a collection that’s both a departure and a return to my roots.”
“I should probably ask,” I said as we walked toward the elevator, “do you have someone waiting for you at home? A girlfriend who might wonder why you’re having dinner with your boss on a Sunday night?”
I leaned forward, ignoring my discomfort. “I want to make a statement. After everything with Alistair, people are watching to see if I’ll fail.”
I smiled despite myself. “Of course.”
“Hot pot sounds perfect,” I agreed, standing up.
185 An Unexpected Connection
We ordered a mix of meats, seafood, and vegetables. As we waited for our food, conversation flowed naturally to fashion, our shared passion.
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. Previous job had me working eighteen–hour days. regularly”
“We should probably call it a day,” Quentin said, glancing at his watch. “You’ve been working straight through since morning.”
“Thank you for dinner,” I said as we waited for our respective cars.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve studied my portfolio thoroughly.”
“I hope you like spicy food,” he said as we settled into our booth.
As dinner progressed, I found myself relaxing in a way I rarely did around new people. There was something refreshingly straightforward about Quentin. No hidden agendas, no manipulation–just honest conversation and mutual respect.
We both laughed, and I realized with a start that I was genuinely enjoying myself. Not just tolerating an obligation or networking, but actually having a good time.
“The jury’s still out, I countered, enjoying our easy banter.
“No,” I decided firmly. “Let’s go. I’m not going to stop living my life because of potential gossip.”
“What got you interested in the business side of fashion?” I asked, genuinely curious. His easy acceptance made me reconsider. I’d spent too many years worrying about appearances, about what others might think. I was done living that way.
“What about you?” I deflected, uncomfortable with the focus on my motivations. “So you found another way in,” I observed.
“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I needed to understand your vision if I’m going to help build this company.”
The gesture caught me off guard. It was such a small thing, yet thoughtful in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. People rarely paid attention to details about me.
An awkward moment passed as we both reached for the same folder, our fingers brushing briefly.
185 An Unexpected Connection
“Are you calling us fools, Ms. Shaw? he teased.
“We can cancel,” he offered immediately. “I completely understand.”
“Professionally speaking,” I echoed, smiling.
“No plans,” he said, gathering his notes. “What did you have in mind?”
Walking out of the restaurant, I was struck by how different this evening had been from what I’d expected. What had started as a simple gesture of appreciation for at hardworking employee had become something else–not romantic, but a connection I hadn’t anticipated.
The statement was innocent enough, but something in his tone–a note of pleased surprise–made me wonder if this unexpected connection might be exactly what my fledgling company needed… or if it might complicate matters in ways I couldn’t yet
foresee.
“Your choice. What sounds good?”
We spent the next two hours outlining concepts, sketching rough ideas, and creating a production timeline. Quentin’s organizational skills complemented my creative process perfectly. When I’d jump ahead with a burst of inspiration, he’d pull me back, making sure we addressed the practical aspects.
“Just being practical,” he replied easily. “Cold hands make for slow typing.”
## Hazel’s POV
His eyes widened slightly. “You don’t have to do that.”
His dedication impressed me. Most people saw the glamorous side of fashion–the runway shows, the magazine spreads. Few understood the business behind it, the countless hours of work that went into each design.
“Better,” I admitted. “Thanks for your help yesterday.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded with a good–natured smile. “So, just dinner between colleagues then.”
“Though fools seldom differ,” I finished the saying.
“Love it,” I replied, studying the menu. “The spicier the better.”
185 An Unexpected Connection
“It’s uncanny,” I remarked after yet another point of agreement. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”
By six o’clock, we had a solid plan for Milan and had reviewed most of my previous work. My stomach growled audibly, reminding me I’d skipped lunch.
He nodded, accepting the boundary. “What drives you? Beyond talent, beyond ambition–what keeps you going when things get tough?”
As the elevator doors closed, I suddenly realized how this might look–a weekend dinner alone with my attractive new manager. The fashion industry thrived on gossip. If someone saw us…
“I want to,” I insisted. “Unless you have other plans?”
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