Chapter 6
778 Words
By the time lunch rolled around the next day, Amara was beginning to understand that working at the Steele House wasn’t just about talent — it was about reading a room without looking like you were reading it.
The morning had been swallowed by follow-up meetings from yesterday’s boardroom presentation. Adrian’s feedback still hummed in her chest — precise, direct, and laced with that same calm intensity she couldn’t seem to shake.
She had barely sat down at her desk when an email pinged into her inbox.
From: Adrian Steele
Subject: Sketch Review – 3 p.m.
No “Hello.” No “Please.” Just the time, the task, and the unspoken expectation she’d be ready.
She was.
At 2:55 p.m., she walked into his office, He didn’t look up immediately, finishing a note in the margin of a document.
“Sit,” he said finally, gesturing to the chair opposite.
She did.
“Walk me through your thoughts.”
She laid the sketches out between them, carefully ordered. “These first three… I think they capture the spirit of the brief, but they’re too safe. They rely on silhouettes we’ve already seen in the last two collections. These—” she tapped the next set “—experiment more with line and asymmetry. I think they’d stand out without compromising the brand’s identity.”
His gaze flicked from the sketches to her face. “And you’re certain these work for the client?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, even though her heart was galloping.
A slow nod. “You’re right about the first set. Safe. Forgettable.” He picked up one of her chosen designs, holding it between his fingers. “This one is interesting. It forces the eye to travel.”
She tried not to read into the way he said it.
Before she could reply, the door opened.
Selene.
She didn’t knock. She didn’t even glance at Amara. “Adrian, the Milan supplier just confirmed they can ship the silk a week early. You’ll need to sign off on the invoice.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Leave it on the desk.”
Only then did Selene’s eyes flicker to Amara — quick, assessing, and tinged with something sharp. “I didn’t realize you had a meeting scheduled.”
“It’s fine,” Adrian said, his tone flat, neutral. “We’re done here.”
Amara gathered her sketches, careful not to rush. She could feel Selene’s gaze tracking every movement, the way one might watch a rival across a poker table.
Out in the corridor, Amara exhaled slowly.
The rest of the afternoon moved in fits and starts. Every time she crossed paths with Selene — in the sample room, near the printers, by the coffee machine — there was that same faint, cutting smile. Not overt enough to call out, but impossible to miss.
By 6:30 p.m., most of the staff had left. Amara stayed behind, not out of obligation, but because after hours felt different. Quieter. The echo of the day’s tension seemed to dissolve into the hum of the city outside.
She was in the archive room, checking fabric swatches, when she heard footsteps.
Adrian.
“I thought you’d gone home,” he said, leaning lightly against the doorframe.
“I wanted to make sure I understood the swatch catalogue,” she replied. “Some of these codes are… intimidating.”
That earned the faintest curve of a smile. “They’re only intimidating until you’ve memorized them. Then they become your language.”
She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, unsure if she was supposed to keep working or leave. “I’ll get there.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said, his voice low, as if it were a certainty, not encouragement.
It was a brief moment — a fragment of connection — but it lingered like perfume in the air even after he left.
The next morning, she arrived earlier than usual. The office was still waking up — lights flicking on, coffee machines whirring.
As she walked past the conference room, she caught sight of Adrian and Selene inside, standing close, reviewing fabric samples. Selene was laughing at something he’d said, her hand brushing his arm.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It was none of her business. But something in her chest tightened anyway.
She turned away, telling herself to focus. There were deadlines, designs to refine, and no space for distractions — even the kind that looked at her like she was a puzzle they wanted to solve.
But deep down, she knew that whatever this was, it was already under her skin.
- Writer
