Owned By The Fashion King

Nablis clutched her sketch folder to her chest, forcing herself to breathe as she stepped through the shimmering glass doors of Apex Fashion Hall—the most prestigious design venue in the entire country. Hundreds of designers filled the lobby, rushing to sign in for the National New Designer Competition. This was it. Her chance. Her only chance. Her mother’s hospital bills flashed in her mind, tightening something deep inside her chest. She hadn’t slept properly in two nights, but she pushed forward anyway. “Just don’t embarrass yourself,” she whispered to herself. And then— She collided with something solid. Her folder slipped from her arms, sketches scattering across the polished floor like fallen feathers. “Oh my God—I’m so sorry!” she burst out, dropping instantly to gather her papers. But the man she bumped into didn’t kneel. He didn’t offer a hand. He didn’t even move. He simply stood there… looking down at her. His shoes were immaculate, worth more than her monthly rent. His suit was a perfect, dark, sculpted masterpiece—clearly tailored only for him. His presence alone made the air colder. When she finally looked up— Her heartbeat stumbled. The man was stunning. Sharp jawline, cold storm-gray eyes, dark hair resting exactly where it was meant to be. Every inch of him screamed wealth, power, and danger. But his expression? Ice. “A little early to be this careless, don’t you think?” he said, voice deep and cutting. Heat rushed to Nablis’s cheeks. “I didn’t— you walked into me.” A few designers nearby gasped. No one talked back to a man like this. Not here. Not anywhere. But Nablis was tired. Stressed. Desperate. And far too frustrated to swallow her pride. He tilted his head slightly, observing her with an almost bored curiosity. “Is that what you think happened?” “Yes,” she snapped, picking up the last sketch. “And you could at least apologize. You ruined my drawings.” His eyebrow lifted barely a centimeter. “If a simple bump can ruin them, perhaps they weren’t very good.” The air froze between them. Nablis’s jaw tightened. “Wow. Thank you for the encouragement, sir.” A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips—as if her anger amused him. But he didn’t say another word. He stepped around her with silent arrogance and walked toward a private elevator guarded by staff. Nablis glared at his back. “Arrogant,” she muttered. But she couldn’t waste time. Not today. She stood, brushed off her jeans, and hurried to the check-in table, repeating to herself: “This is your moment. Don’t ruin it.” She sat among the other contestants, still trying to calm her pounding heart. A girl beside her leaned closer. “Are you okay? You look like you ran into a ghost.” “Not a ghost,” Nablis muttered. “Just a very rude man in a suit.” Before the girl could respond, the lights dimmed and the massive stage screen flickered on. A host stepped forward. “Welcome to the 12th National New Designer Competition! Please greet our main judge—” Nablis looked up casually. And froze. The man she collided with—the cold, arrogant stranger—walked onto the stage. The host continued proudly: “—the CEO of Lenoir International, the Fashion King himself… Felix Lenoir!” The room erupted with applause. Nablis wanted to disappear. Her entire body went stiff as Felix scanned the sea of contestants. His eyes passed over dozens of faces… Then stopped— right on her. His gaze didn’t soften. Didn’t waver. Didn’t forget. She lifted her chin, refusing to look away. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like a silent battle. Then he looked away and began speaking to the audience, calm and powerful. But Nablis felt one thing with absolute certainty: She hadn’t just annoyed the most important man in the competition. She had caught his attention. And maybe… made a very dangerous enemy. Because even as the presentation continued— She could still feel his eyes on her. ---