Forbidden Attraction
546 Words
Amara’s first day at Savage Mode was a whirlwind of glamour, pressure, and secrets behind perfect smiles.
She stepped into the design floor at 8:00 a.m. sharp, dressed in a navy-blue jumpsuit she made herself bold, clean, and confidently Nigerian. The room was buzzing with designers, assistants, models, and stylists moving in sync like a machine. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do.
Her heart pounded, but she kept her chin up. You belong here, she reminded herself.
“New girl!” someone called.
She turned to see a woman with striking cheekbones and fierce eyes clearly the queen bee of the interns.
“I’m Becca. Don’t get in my way,” the woman said with a tight smile, then disappeared into a sea of heels and sketchpads.
Nice start.
But Amara wasn’t easily shaken. She walked to her desk, opened her sketchbook, and began reworking an idea she had during the flight a blend of Nigerian Ankara fabric with edgy Western silhouettes.
Suddenly, a familiar deep voice startled her.
“That’s bold.”
She looked up Jason.
He stood behind her, one hand in his pocket, the other casually resting on the edge of her desk. Today he wore a dark grey suit, no tie, and an air of confidence that made everyone else in the room invisible.
“I like bold,” Amara replied, her voice steady.
He looked at her sketch, nodding slowly. “African fusion. Interesting.”
“I believe fashion is a language. And I want the world to hear mine.”
That caught his attention. He studied her not just her face, but her mind.
For a second, something soft flickered in his eyes. But then he looked away. “Good. Don’t waste your voice trying to fit in.”
Before she could say anything else, he walked off leaving behind his scent and a thousand questions.
That afternoon, while helping backstage during a shoot, Amara overheard two staff whispering in the hallway.
“Did you hear? Jason postponed the wedding.”
“Again? That’s the third time.”
“She must be furious. I mean, who gets cold feet after two years?”
Amara froze.
Wedding?
She knew he was off-limits, but hearing it made something sink in her chest. She shook it off and focused on her task. She was here to work. To learn. Not to fall for a man already promised to someone else.
But fate had other plans.
That evening, after the shoot wrapped, Amara stepped outside into the cool London air. The sky was dusky blue, the city buzzing softly in the distance.
“Rough day?”
She turned Jason again.
He stood by a black Mercedes, sipping from a coffee cup.
“I survived,” she said with a faint smile.
He stepped closer, his voice lower now. “You’re different, Amara. Don’t let this city change you.”
Their eyes locked. The air grew heavier.
“Why do I feel like you’re warning me about yourself?” she whispered.
He smiled, and for the first time, it reached his eyes.
“Maybe I am.”
Then he was gone.
And just like that, Amara knew this wasn’t just a job anymore.
It was the beginning of something she might not survive.
- Writer
