Talk to me nicely

Chapter four

Oh, this Givenchy looks amazing, don’t you think, madam?” the store manager gushed, trailing after Lilian Royce like a lost cat

“Do you have it in peach?” Lilian asked coolly, not even sparing him a glance as she ran a manicured finger across a rack of silk.

“Oh of course!” he said quickly, snapping his fingers for his assistant to fetch it. “And what other styles would you like to see, ma’am?”

Lilian sighed softly, her tone carrying that elegant boredom only wealth could afford. “I’m not quite seeing anything amusing me here. I think I’m getting tired of fashion itself.”

The manager froze, unsure whether to laugh or panic. But before he could respond, a voice drifted in bold and charming

“I’m guessing you haven’t tried animal prints,” it said. “I know it’s not exactly ‘rich’ or ‘classy,’ but sometimes it’s okay to go a little wild.”

Lilian turned, mildly intrigued — and there she was.

A flawless young woman stood a few feet away, her beauty almost cinematic. Ice-blue eyes that caught the light, long blonde curls cascading perfectly down her shoulders, and a figure sculpted like she’d stepped out of an ad campaign. Her perfume hit next , soft but commanding

“And you are?” Lilian asked, her eyebrow arching ever so slightly.

“Victoria,” the girl replied, extending her hand with an elegance that wasn’t learned — it was natural. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’ve seen you around, and I must say, your taste in fashion is quite… exquisite.”

For the first time that morning, Lilian smiled — slow and deliberate.

“Flattery,” she said, taking Victoria’s hand, “is an art. And you, my dear, seem to know exactly how to paint with it.”

Victoria’s eyes sparkled. “Well, what can I say? I like to impress the right people.”

Lilian held her gaze assessing her , intrigued. “Oh darling . I think you just have.”

The store manager, still hovering awkwardly nearby, cleared his throat. “Ma’am, the Givenchy in peach—”

“Forget it,” Lilian cut him off, her attention still fixed on Victoria. “I’ve found something far more interesting than a dress.

“Tell me, Victoria,” Lilian said, tilting her head with quiet curiosity. “Do you work in fashion?”

“I model sometimes,” Victoria replied, her smile composed. “But I’m actually building a small brand of my own accessories, mostly. Simple things that make women feel confident.”

Lilian’s lips curved faintly. “Ambitious and tasteful. That’s a rare combination.”

“Hmm.” Lilian studied her for a moment, the corners of her eyes softening. “You’re charming. And confident without being loud. I like that.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Lilian reached into her Hermès clutch and pulled out a pale gold card. Even the way she handed it over was graceful. “This might sound sudden, but I’d like to keep in touch. You have the kind of presence that’s hard to forget.”

Victoria accepted the card carefully, glancing at the embossed Lilian Martins signature. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Just say you’ll call,” Lilian said with a light chuckle. Then, almost as if the thought slipped naturally into conversation, she added, “You know, I have a son around your age. Brilliant, but far too married to his work. I think the two of you would get along beautifully.”

Victoria blinked, half-surprised, half-amused. “That’s… very flattering, ma’am.”

Lilian smiled knowingly. “Take it as a mother’s intuition. I can spot good taste from a mile away and trust me, you have it.”

As she walked away, attendants hurried to open the door for her, so also the chauffeur open the door to her cream rolls Royce

And the boutique Victoria holds on to the card and smiles “jackpot” she sai