THE BILLIONAIRE'S PHOENIX

the droplets streak down my windowpane, I find myself hoping it's not tru

ng of gloom. The sky is the color of bruised silk, and the world feels quiet and muffled. It's a

itting there, mostly still, for the past hour. I wonder what he's doing. The camera is positioned on the bookshelf

r on his face in his corporate office. The way his eyes bulged, the strangled sound he

as going to be a problem. The real Beatrice would eventually contact him, wondering why he'd stood her up. But that'

it was simple. Santos, my old friend back in Santorini, taught me well. A few commands, and every

nist. The one with the bright smile. "Miss Dia

ly pulled her aside. "I need you to erase

can't do that, ma'am. It's

reet but significant bribe, followed by a softly spoken threat about the consequences of disobeying a very powerful client, did the trick. Her eyes wide

sk and go to stand before the floor-to-ceiling window. The rain blurs the sha

f that. But she called me this morning, explaining that this particular investor specifically requested to meet the lead designer for t

d return to my chair. My eyes drift back to the desktop screen, but this time, I freeze

d I had found an angel in human form, a sister I'd chosen for myself. I never, in my wildest nightmares, imagined that the very same best friend would be the one to stab me

vered them, I also discovered I was pregnant. The highest joy and

at happened later... my child would have been safe. My child

ently, yanking me from the abyss. I take a sharp, steadying

sking for you in her office," an

oice miraculously even. I hang up, pressing m

will ever forget it. Never. I can never forget, and I will make

wn my dress and make my way to Dahlia's corner office on the floor

ia's cheerful v

man in a tailored charcoal-grey suit is sitting opposite her,

sa Ashford, our brilliant lead designer for the Winter Cou

I know this face. I know those piercing, cool grey eyes that had studied me so intently

ys. His voice is deep. I had

his. His grip is firm, warm, and br

s immense, old-money influence. I nod in acknowledgment as his gaze settles on me. There's an intensit

how," Dahlia begins, steering the conversation. "Ceron is pa

ired by the theme of 'Phoenix.' A story of rebirth from the ashes. I'm cu

, Mr. Morrison," I say. "The idea that something far more powerful and beautiful can rise from a comple

ment coloring his deep voice. It feels like he

ix narrative will be woven through the entire collection, from the opening p

lling angle. My foundation has a growing interest in narratives of female r

ivately held conglomerate with fingers in everything from tech to real estate, and apparently, now, high-level philanthropy. Through

hat debuted in Milan, was praised for its architectural precision. It's quite a

me in Santorini allowed me to appreciate a different kind

ormation away. "Santorini. A beautif

care about where I live or my creative journey? His questions don't

g finally winds down. I glance at Dahlia, my eyes subtly asking if I am f

irst. "It's a pleasure, Dahlia. I look for

ger than mine, and surprisingly rough, not soft like a typical businessman's. The brief contact sends a l

to life, Miss Ashford," he adds, his grey

I say, my voi

atches on the leg of the chair behind me. My balance vanishes, and I stu

e other gripping my arm. He moves with shocking speed. He holds me steady until

armth of his hand through the fabric of my dress, the solid stre

ght into those piercing grey e