Threads of Desire

CHAPTER 2

Karlee stood outside the glass doors of Kensington Maison at seven-thirty in the morning, holding a white bakery box tied with twine.

The grease from three cinnamon swirls had already seeped slightly into the bottom of the cardboard, a comforting mark of home.

She took a deep breath, adjusted her shoulder bag, and pushed through the heavy doors into the silent lobby.

The security guard looked up from his desk, his expression neutral.

Karlee offered him a bright smile and set the box on the edge of his counter.

“Good morning. Fresh from Dough & Co. The cinnamon ones are best while they’re still warm.”

The guard hesitated, then looked down at the box.

“We aren’t really supposed to take food at the desk.”

“It’s an unofficial job duty,” Karlee whispered with a wink. “I’m starting as a junior assistant today, so consider it a goodwill offering for when I inevitably lose my badge.”

A small smile cracked the guard’s stern expression.

“I’m Jim. Welcome aboard, kid.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

Karlee headed for the elevators, feeling a small surge of confidence.

But when the doors slid open on the ninth floor, that warm feeling disappeared.

The sample room was a maze of garment racks, cutting tables, industrial sewing machines, and half-finished pieces of clothing. Five other assistants were already moving at top speed, carrying bolts of fabric and steam irons like firefighters responding to an emergency call.

A woman with a clipboard and sharp tortoiseshell glasses marched directly toward her.

This was Chloe, the studio manager.

“You’re Karlee,” Chloe said without bothering with a greeting. “Put your coat on that rack, grab a tape measure, and get to table four. We have thirty minutes before the ten-o’clock line review, and two of the chiffon dresses need their hems pinned up by two inches.”

“On it.”

Karlee shrugged off her jacket and hurried toward table four.

She dropped to her knees on the hard floor and went to work.

Her hands moved automatically, pinching the fabric and sliding pins into place with quick precision. She barely had time to think before moving on to the next section.

Beside her, another junior assistant named Marcus was sweating profusely as he struggled to adjust a tailored jacket on a mannequin.

“If I drop another pin, I’m going to lose my mind,” Marcus muttered under his breath.

“Don’t do that. Management hates paperwork.”

Karlee handed him a handful of extra pins from her wrist cushion.

“Hold the shoulder seam flat while you tuck the lapel. It stops the fabric from bubbling.”

Marcus followed her instructions.

The jacket instantly settled into place.

He let out a long breath and looked at her with pure gratitude.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Just paying it forward.”

Karlee finished the final hem with ten seconds to spare.

Before she could stand up and stretch her aching knees, Chloe appeared at the edge of the table again, holding a swatch of pale grey wool.

“The fabric shipment for the main coat concept arrived half an hour ago, but they sent the wrong weight,” Chloe said, her voice tight with panic. “Tobias is reviewing the outer line at two. I need ten yards of twenty-ounce, double-faced cashmere wool in shadow grey from the garment district supplier on Thirty-Eighth Street.”

She glanced at the clock.

“If you aren’t back here by one, we won’t have a prototype ready for the board.”

Karlee grabbed the sample swatch and address card.

“Thirty-Eighth Street. Ten yards. Shadow grey. I’ll be back before one.”

“Take the subway. Traffic is completely deadlocked,” Chloe called after her.

Karlee ran for the elevators, her heart pounding against her ribs.

She navigated the crowded city streets, slipping past tourists and delivery carts until she found the dusty, narrow fabric warehouse tucked between two high-rise buildings.

The shopkeeper, an elderly man named Arthur who looked as though he had worked there since the nineteen-seventies, crossed his arms when Karlee showed him the swatch.

“Kensington Maison always wants everything yesterday,” Arthur grumbled, shaking his head. “I don’t have ten yards of that exact shade in the front storeroom. It’s in the back warehouse.”

Karlee leaned over the counter, giving him her best pleading look.

“Arthur, please. If I don’t get this fabric back to the studio in time, my supervisor is going to turn me into a dress form. I’ll even help you carry the bolt.”

Arthur studied her for a moment.

Then he chuckled softly.

“You’ve got spirit, kid. Come on, then. Grab the ladder.”

Twenty minutes later, Karlee was practically sprinting back up the street, hauling a heavy ten-yard bolt of wool wrapped in plastic over her shoulder.

Her heels were digging into her ankles, her hair was escaping its neat clip, and sweat had gathered along her forehead.

But she made it back to the ninth floor at precisely twelve-forty-five.

She dropped the heavy bolt onto the central cutting table with a muffled thump.

Chloe stared at her in shock.

Then she released a long sigh of relief.

“You actually got it.”

She immediately grabbed a pair of shears.

“Good. Get cleaned up. You’re bringing the finished drape up to the executive review room on fourteen.”

Karlee nodded and hurried toward the restroom.

She washed her hands, wiped the smudge of dust from her cheek, and pinned her hair back into place.

Then she took three deep breaths in front of the mirror, trying to smooth down her thrifted suit jacket.

She looked tired.

But she also looked like someone who belonged here.

Karlee grabbed the garment rack and headed upstairs.

On the fourteenth floor, the atmosphere was almost unnervingly quiet compared to the chaos below.

She carried the draped wool coat form down the hallway, her boots nearly silent against the thick carpet.

Then she pushed open the glass door to the main design studio.

Victoria Vance stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, speaking with three senior designers.

At the head of the long wooden conference table sat Tobias Kensington.

He looked even more imposing up close.

His dark hair was brushed neatly back, and his black suit was cut with sharp, uncompromising lines. He was reviewing a series of printed sketches, his dark eyes moving across the pages with relentless scrutiny.

Karlee wheeled the garment rack into the center of the room and stood quietly off to the side, exactly as Chloe had instructed.

“The drape is too heavy at the collar,” Tobias said, his deep voice carrying easily across the silent room.

He didn't look up from the papers.

“It drags the neck forward. The structure fails at the shoulder point.”

One of the senior designers cleared his throat nervously.

“We added a stiff shoulder pad underneath to support the weight of the wool, Mr. Kensington.”

“It looks unnatural.”

Tobias finally set down his pen and looked at the mannequin Karlee had brought in.

“The drape should follow the line of the neck, not fight it.”

The room fell into a tense silence.

The senior designers looked down at their notebooks, nobody daring to offer another alternative.

Karlee studied the shoulder construction on the mannequin.

She knew that exact problem.

She had fixed it dozens of times on heavy winter coats brought into her parents’ shop for alterations.

Without fully thinking through the consequences, she took two steps toward the rack.

“If you drop the inner canvas stay by half an inch and slant the collar seam inward, the fabric will rest on the collarbone instead of pulling from the neck.”

Every head in the room turned toward her.

Victoria raised an eyebrow.

One of the senior designers looked offended.

Tobias slowly turned his gaze toward Karlee.

His expression remained completely blank.

His dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach tighten.

“What is your name?” he asked quietly.

“Karlee Hatheway.”

She kept her chin up despite the sudden urge to retreat.

“Junior studio assistant.”

Tobias stood from the table and walked toward the mannequin.

He reached out and touched the collar, running his fingers along the wool seam where Karlee had pointed.

He tilted his head slightly, examining the tension in the fabric.

“Show me.”

He stepped back and held out a pair of small tailor’s snips.

Karlee took them.

For a second, the room seemed impossibly quiet.

She stepped up to the coat and carefully clipped three internal stitches along the lining.

Then she re-pinned the collar flap half an inch lower and smoothed the heavy wool down with the palm of her hand.

The fabric immediately settled flat against the mannequin’s chest.

The awkward gap at the neck disappeared completely.

Victoria let out a small, approving hum.

The senior designers exchanged surprised looks.

Tobias studied the adjusted shoulder for a long moment.

Then his gaze returned to Karlee.

The coldness in his expression hadn't disappeared, but something else had taken its place.

Attention.

“The drape works,” Tobias said neutrally.

He turned back toward his chair and picked up his pen.

“Ensure the production team updates the master pattern before five today.”

Karlee took a small step backward.

“Yes, sir.”

She wheeled the rack out of the room as quietly as possible and closed the heavy glass door behind her.

Once she was alone in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and released a long, shaky breath.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

It was only her first day.

And somehow, she had already managed to get Tobias Kensington’s attention.

Karlee looked at her reflection in the glass wall.

She had seventy-nine days left on her probation.

There was still so much she had to prove.

But for the first time since walking into Kensington Maison, she wasn't wondering whether she belonged.

She knew she did.