Threads of Desire

CHAPTER 4

Karlee arrived at Kensington Maison the next morning with a mild case of caffeine jitters and two whole hours of sleep under her belt. The giant brown paper pattern for the midnight tuxedo jacket was rolled up neatly on her drafting table, topped with a bright yellow sticky note reading: Ready for Cutting.

​She set her tote bag down, pulled two spare pencils out of her messy hair bun, and smoothed her printed skirt. After last night's late conversation with Tobias, she expected the floor to feel a little different today. Instead, the studio was as loud and chaotic as ever.

​Julian strode past her desk at eight-fifteen, holding an iced latte and looking like he had slept a full ten hours. He glanced at the completed pattern on her table, blinked in mild surprise, and then immediately shifted back to his smooth, unimpressed expression.

​"Nice work, Hathaway," Julian said, tapping the paper roll with his manicured index finger. "Get that down to the cutter right away. And when you're done, the thread spools in bay three need to be cataloged by dye lot."

​Karlee smiled sweetly, refusing to let him pop her good mood. "Good morning to you too, Julian. Did you have a nice dinner?"

​Julian narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to decide if she was being sarcastic, before turning around and marching toward his office.

​Marcus slid into the chair next to her a few minutes later, holding two paper cups from the corner bodega. He slid one toward her with a sympathetic look.

​"You look like a zombie that dressed up for a fashion show," Marcus said softly, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Did you stay here all night?"

​"Only until nine," Karlee said, wrapping her cold hands around the warm paper cup. "And I met the big boss while I was finishing the lapels."

​Marcus stopped mid-sip, his eyes going wide. "Kensington? Here? At night?"

​"He was just checking on the studio," Karlee said, keeping her voice low so Julian wouldn't hear. "He actually looked at the pattern curve."

​"And you're still employed?" Marcus whispered, leaning closer. "You didn't accidentally spill coffee on his shoes or call him by his first name?"

​"I kept my distance," Karlee said with a quiet laugh. "Though I did tell him people like to hug their friends in his tuxedos."

​Marcus put a hand over his mouth to muffle a gasp. "Karlee, no. He doesn't hug. I'm pretty sure he was manufactured in a pristine Swiss lab."

​Before Karlee could respond, Chloe’s voice carried over the sound of buzzing sewing machines. "Hathaway! Kensington’s office needs the master swatches for the spring palette. Take them up immediately."

​Marcus gave her a dramatic, slow salute. "If you don't come back down in ten minutes, I'm calling emergency services."

​Karlee grabbed the heavy velvet-lined presentation tray containing twenty neatly labeled fabric squares. She checked her reflection in the glass wall of the elevator on the way up, tucking a loose curl behind her ear and straightening her collar.

​The fourteenth floor was quiet in that sharp, expensive way that made every footstep sound like an event. When Karlee reached the executive suite, the outer desk was empty. The high double glass doors to Tobias's main office were propped open a few inches.

​She approached carefully and knocked her knuckles against the door frame. "Mr. Kensington? I have the spring swatches."

​"In," his voice came from inside, low and direct.

​Karlee pushed the door open. The office was breathtaking, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the hazy city skyline. Tobias stood near a high wooden worktable, examining a series of large fashion illustrations spread out under bright LED lamps. He wore his usual dark trousers and a crisp white shirt, the cuffs rolled back once to reveal his heavy steel watch.

​"Set them on the side table," Tobias said without looking up from his sketches.

​"Yes, sir," Karlee said. She walked quietly across the dark rug and laid the tray down near a stack of international design journals.

​She turned to leave, but her eye caught a series of quick, loose charcoal sketches pinned to the cork wall behind his table. They were rough, far less polished than the official line previews, but filled with energy. One sketch showed a heavy coat draped over a shoulder with a familiar asymmetrical line.

​Karlee stopped, leaning her head slightly to the left. "Is that inspired by late-nineties Japanese tailoring?"

​Tobias paused, his pen hovering an inch above the paper. He slowly turned his head to look at her. "What makes you say that?"

​"The dropped shoulder seam and the wide lapel cut," Karlee said, pointing toward the pinboard before catching herself and dropping her hand. "Sorry. I shouldn't be commenting on your roughs."

​Tobias didn't look angry. He set his pen down, turned his body fully toward her, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Go on."

​Karlee swallowed, her pulse quickening, but her natural enthusiasm for construction took over. "Well, the drape has that effortless, heavy structural balance that Yamamoto was doing in ninety-eight. It looks slouchy at first glance, but the internal tailoring has to be rock solid to keep it from collapsing into a sack."

​Tobias stared at her for three very long seconds. The quiet in the room was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the city thirty floors below.

​"You know your fashion history, Miss Hathaway," Tobias said softly.

​"My mother has a massive collection of old European trade magazines in our attic," Karlee admitted, a small, genuine smile creeping onto her face. "I spent my teenage summers reading them instead of going to the beach."

​"It shows," Tobias said. He walked over to the pinboard, pulling down the rough sketch she had pointed out. He handed it to her. "What would you change about the waist intake on this jacket?"

​Karlee took the paper, trying not to notice how close he was standing or the faint scent of sandalwood and cold air that seemed to follow him. Her thumbs held the edges of the heavy sketch paper carefully.

​"The side seam is too straight," she said, looking at the pencil lines. "If you curve it inward by a quarter-inch right at the small of the back, it gives the illusion of a tight fit without taking away the comfortable drop in the shoulders."

​Tobias looked down at the paper in her hands, then up at her face. His dark eyes were intense, analyzing her answer with sharp precision.

​"You have a habit of adding a quarter-inch to everything," he noted, his tone carrying a faint, dry edge that was dangerously close to humor.

​Karlee grinned, looking right back at him. "A quarter-inch is the difference between a garment you wear once for a photo and a garment you live in, Mr. Kensington."

​Tobias held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes, brief and quiet, before he stepped back toward his desk.

​"Take the tray back down to Chloe," he said, turning back to his worktable. "And tell Julian that I want you assisting on the master pattern adjustments for the autumn coats this afternoon."

​Karlee’s eyes widened. Assisting on master patterns was a task usually reserved for mid-level designers, not junior assistants on day three of their probation.

​"Thank you, sir," Karlee said, her voice genuine and warm. "I'll make sure Julian gets the message."

​"Go, Miss Hathaway," Tobias said, though as she turned toward the door, she could have sworn the line of his mouth softened just a fraction.

​Karlee walked back down the long executive hallway, her boots clicking merrily against the floor. Her hands were still buzzing with energy, and her heart was beating a fast, happy rhythm against her ribs. She had seventy-eight days left on her probation, but as she stepped into the elevator, she couldn't stop smiling.