A Case in Red

Chapter 07

After my shower, I found Raquel in my closet, scrutinizing every garment with surgical precision. I watched her from a distance; the Frenchwoman held her chin in one hand, looking as if she were summoning her superpower to curate the perfect ensemble of fabric and accessories.

— Well, I see you’re deep in thought — I said, stepping toward my friend. — Any suggestions for me yet?

— Oh, I have plenty — Raquel smiled, her eyes alight. — But I don’t know what kind of man Conrad is. I need details... how exactly did you two meet last night?

I arched an eyebrow, catching the glint in her green eyes.

— You’re only asking because you want the gossip from the party, aren’t you?

— Oh, please! — Raquel clasped her hands to her chest in a mock plea, desperate for the story of my unexpected encounter with the tycoon. I tried to suppress a smile but failed; deep down, I wanted to talk about him too. Since Raquel was the only soul I could babble to about Conrad, I stopped fighting the urge and finally gave in.

I leaned against the large white island in the center of the room. Its glass top showcased my collection of luxury watches and eyewear, yet I felt a cold shiver trace my spine. Just thinking of Conrad’s name made my throat go dry.

— Well, I didn’t exactly plan on meeting him — I said, forcing my expression to remain neutral. I didn’t want Raquel thinking that meeting Conrad meant anything to me beyond business. — I was at the hotel bar when a very handsome man approached me. He tried to strike up a conversation... I’ll admit, I was a bit blunt. I tried to brush him off. Then, when I asked his name, he dropped the bombshell. It was him. The owner of Maison Rubra. The man behind every Maison Rubra across the globe.

— And what is he like? — Raquel was a hopeless romantic. It wasn't enough for her to live love in her own life; she lived for the romance of others. The way she asked made me realize she wasn't curious about him, but about how I felt about him. And as much as she was a trusted friend, I would never let her know I felt that inevitable pull toward him. I didn't know if it was his rugged features, his voice, or the sheer weight of his status, but like Raquel, I wanted to know more. Not romantically, of course—passion is bad for business. But there was an aura around Mr. Van Dorn that I found deeply compelling.

— He’s... attractive. He doesn't look fifty-three. He’s tall, powerful, with a very magnetic presence — I looked at my friend, who seemed to be sketching him in her mind. — And that’s exactly how I want him to see me. As a woman of presence and success. I want him to look at me and find it impossible to say “no.” He needs to see the force I’m capable of being.

Raquel snapped out of her daydream and instantly shifted back into her professional persona. She pulled a long-sleeved, burgundy silk blouse with a sharp V-neck from the rack, followed by an off-white pencil skirt with a subtle, almost imperceptible slit.

— Wear this — She handed me the pieces, and I changed without a second thought. I caught my reflection; the combination was nearly perfect, but it lacked that final edge. — Here, put these on — She handed me a pair of matching burgundy stilettos, which elongated my legs and provided the missing touch of sophistication.

— It’s elegant and professional, but it’s not quite... arresting. What are we missing?

— Let’s pull your hair into a high, sleek ponytail — Raquel decided. — That way, his attention is drawn to your neck and the neckline.

— Now you’re speaking my language.

As she styled my hair, Raquel moved toward my jewelry, selecting the star of the look. I studied every detail—from the calculated plunge of the neckline to the stilettos that screamed professionalism. I looked just as beautiful as the night before, but for different reasons. Yesterday, I was a woman celebrating a milestone in a dress that didn't ask permission to be noticed. Today, I am a woman hunting her own conquest. The clothes don't compete with me; they serve as evidence of my capability.

Raquel fastened a gold necklace around my throat, a minimalist piece with a small diamond—chic without being loud. After a "no-makeup" makeup look, I was finally ready to meet Conrad and show him the other side of the arrogant woman he’d met at the opening.

— You’re ready. As stunning as ever! And look what I found... — Raquel held out a coffee-toned Yves Saint Laurent bag. It was the final stroke of luxury needed to solidify my image as a high-powered executive. — This bag is gorgeous. When did you get it?

A knot tightened in my throat. I didn't want her to know where it came from. My only friend had no idea that, until a few years ago, every designer bag or dress I owned was a "gift" from admirers I never wanted—men who would have handed me the keys to a Chanel boutique if it meant one night with me. But that specific bag had an origin more humiliating than any other luxury item I had ever accepted. I pushed the thought away. Raquel didn't need to know; I didn't need to speak.

— Oh, I treat myself sometimes. I don’t even remember when I bought it...

— This model is no longer in production; there are only a few in the world. Gosh, you’re so lucky. I would have done anything to get my hands on this...

Whenever I was with Raquel, there was always a moment where I tasted the bitterness of envy. When she placed herself in my shoes—the "woman who wished she could have something she couldn't buy"—it made my chest ache. She had always had everything. She could buy whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Acting that way felt unfair. Unfair to me. She could have bought that bag if she’d wanted; she could have any limited edition she desired. And me? I never had that privilege.

— Yes, maybe I am just lucky — I said through gritted teeth, doing my best to hide my irritation.

Raquel came over with a beaming smile and hugged me. I tried to return it, but it felt clumsier than intended.

— It’s going to be perfect, Vivi. You’re brilliant. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

I tried to smile, though I fear it was the most forced expression I’ve ever made.

— I have to go, and so do you. Go be a badass, okay? I’m rooting for you.

Raquel planted a quick kiss on my cheek and rushed out, checking her watch. Once I felt truly alone, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I was nervous—truly, deeply nervous. I checked the mirror for any flaw that might give Conrad a reason to reject my offer, but there were none. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in the silk. I was ready to go, but I wasn't ready to arrive. For the first time, I was insecure, terrified of failing to close the deal.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to find my center, but it was no use. The only way to deal with the fear was to face it. So, I did the only thing left to do: I walked out. I headed toward my success.