Chapter 4
1301 Words
Brianna’s POV
I stood in front of the mirror longer than I usually did.
That alone should’ve told me something was wrong.
I pulled at the hem of the dress I had just changed into, turning slightly to the side, then the other.
Something still didn’t feel right. It wasn’t that the outfit was bad.. it was simple, neat and appropriate for work but it just didn’t sit on me the way I suddenly felt it should.
Yesterday kept slipping into my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to push it away.
That Natasha lady.. Perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body, like she belonged in a completely different world from mine.
I frowned at my reflection.
Why was I even comparing myself to her?
That wasn’t like me.
I wasn’t the type to care about this sort of thing. I was an intern, a designer. My job was to create clothes for other people, not to turn myself into a walking advertisement for them.
I exhaled slowly and grabbed my bag from the bed.
“Get it together, Brianna,” I muttered.
Still, as I walked out of my room, I hesitated.
My eyes drifted down the hallway instinctively, toward Wesley’s room.
The door was closed..
Downstairs, the living room was empty too.
A strange feeling settled in my chest. Not relief exactly… something closer to disappointment that I didn’t want to admit existed.
I shook it off quickly.
“Ridiculous,” I whispered to myself.
Before I could think too deeply about it, a car horn sounded outside.
Queen.
Perfect timing.
I locked the house, placed the key neatly under the flower pot like always, and hurried outside.
The moment Queen saw me, she made a dramatic face.
“Yuck,” she said immediately.
I frowned. “Good morning to you too.”
“If I didn’t know your background, I’d think you shop from goodwill on purpose,” she added, eyeing my outfit.
I rolled my eyes and climbed into the passenger seat.
Queen, on the other hand, looked like she had walked straight out of a fashion campaign.
Leather short dress, fur cropped jacket, boots that probably cost more than my entire closet combined. She looked like everything Cross Fashion would expect.
And for a brief moment, I compared her to the woman from last night again.
Then worse thoughts followed.
Wesley.
Of course.
My chest tightened slightly.
He would choose someone like Queen over someone like me.
“Don’t start zoning out on me,” Queen said, snapping her fingers in front of my face.
“I’m not zoning out.”
“You are,” she replied easily. “Anyway, this outfit? It won’t do. After work, we’re fixing you.”
“Listen Queen, on second thought, I don’t need fixing.”
“Yes, you do.”
I groaned and leaned back in my seat as she started driving.
The rest of the ride was filled with her talking nonstop while I stared out the window, half listening, half lost in my own thoughts.
It didn’t take long before we arrived at The Cross Fashion.
The building was as intimidating as ever.
Glass, steel, perfection.
Everything I wasn’t feeling today.
Inside, we signed in separately and headed toward our respective departments. Queen squeezed my hand briefly before leaving me.
“You’ll survive,” she said.
“I hope so,” I replied.
The elevator ride to the third floor felt longer than usual.
When the doors opened, the little confidence I had left evaporated instantly.
The Design Department.
Everyone looked like they belonged on magazine covers.
Tailored outfits. Perfect hair. Expensive shoes. Effortless elegance.
And me…
Standing in the middle of it all like I had taken a wrong turn somewhere.
A few eyes flicked toward me.
Then away.
I swallowed hard.
Before I could take another step, someone appeared in front of me.
A woman in her early thirties.
Sharp features. Perfect makeup. Cold eyes that scanned me like I was something inconvenient.
“Janitor?” she asked.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
She didn’t wait.
“Take out the trash in my office.”
My brows furrowed. “I’m not the janitor.”
She finally looked at me properly.
“And what exactly are you then?”
“I’m the intern assigned to the design team.”
That made her pause.
Then she laughed lightly, but there was no humor in it.
“Follow me.”
I hesitated for half a second before following her into her office.
The atmosphere inside was worse.
She dropped into her chair while I stood awkwardly, unsure whether I was even allowed to sit.
“Sit,” she said sharply.
I sat.. barely.
She opened my file almost immediately, flipping through it with increasing impatience. I watched her expression change as she read.
Then she stopped.
Looked up at me.
Something in her eyes sharpened.
“I knew it,” she said.
I frowned. “Knew what?”
“Nepo baby.”
My stomach dropped slightly.
“What?”
She leaned back in her chair.
“How did you get Mr Cross to sign your recommendation?”
“I didn’t… I mean, he’s..”
She raised a hand, cutting me off.
“I don’t care what arrangement got you in here.”
My chest tightened.
She continued anyway.
“People like you always think they can walk into places like this and be treated like royalty.”
“That’s not…”
“These designs in your portfolio,” she said, flipping a page with disdain, “are basic. Amateur at best.”
I felt my face heat up.
“They’re not…”
“You’ll start as an errand intern,” she interrupted again. “Don’t expect special treatment.”
I clenched my hands under the table.
“I actually came here to design, not…”
Her office phone rang.
She picked it up immediately, her tone changing.
“Yes?”
Pause.
“Yes, now?”
Another pause.
“Everyone?”
Her eyes flicked toward me briefly.
“Understood.”
She hung up and stood.
“The new Design Supervisor has arrived.”
My heart paused slightly at the title.
“There’s a meeting. Go get coffee.”
I blinked. “But I’m in the middle of…”
“Now.”
No discussion.
She already had her coat on.
“Be quick.”
And just like that, I was dismissed.
By the time I got to the coffee station, I had already memorized three different tutorials on how to make coffee properly.
Because apparently I had never made coffee in my life.
And it showed because it took longer than I expected..
By the time I finally finished, I was already ten minutes late.
“Perfect,” I muttered under my breath.
I grabbed the tray and started running.
“Excuse me!”
“Sorry!”
“Coming through!”
Employees stepped aside as I rushed down the hallway, balancing the cups carefully.
One wrong move and everything would spill.
Which, knowing my luck today, felt very possible.
Finally, I reached the conference room.
I stopped just outside the door. Took a breath, adjusted my blouse and fixed my hair.
“You can do this,” I whispered.
I opened the door.
Every head turned toward me.
Of course.
“Sorry, I,. I’m late,” I said quickly, stepping forward.
And then I looked up.
The tray slipped from my hands.
The coffee crashed to the floor.
A loud splash echoed across the room.
Silence.
Complete silence.
My eyes stayed locked forward.
Because standing at the front of the room…
Was Wesley Cross.
My brother’s best friend.
The man I had just spent all morning trying not to think about.
“My hot crush is my boss.”
- Writer
