Chapter 269

Serena’s POV
The London branch location had been secured weeks ago, and I wasn’t flying solo. Several of Dreamland Studio’s core designers joined me on this conquest across the pond, all of us brimming with excitement and determination. We were ready to plant our flag in European soil.
“I’m loving the natural light in this space,” Maya commented, running her fingers along the edge of a drafting table as we walked through our newly rented studio. “Definitely gives off the creative vibes we need.”
“Right? That was exactly why I chose it,” I replied, mentally checking off items on my never-ending to-do list. We’d only been in London for two days, but it already felt like we’d been running nonstop.
After handling the basic setup – equipment installation, workspace arrangements, and team assignments – I finally had time to focus on the real reason we were here.
“Lucy, have you heard back from the Fashion Week organizers yet?” I called to my assistant, who was busy unpacking a box of sample fabrics.
She glanced up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They emailed fifteen minutes ago. They’re willing to meet tomorrow at 2 PM.”
I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach. “Perfect.”
Maya sidled up next to me, her voice low. “You know, you could just make one call to Quinn Enterprises and be automatically listed as a headliner.”
I shook my head firmly. “That’s not how I want this to happen. Dreamland needs to earn its spot on its own merits.”
“Just saying, having that ace up your sleeve wouldn’t hurt,” she teased.
“And it’s staying up my sleeve,” I insisted. “We’ve made our name in New York on talent alone. London won’t be any different.”
Maya shrugged but smiled approvingly. “Boss lady with principles. That’s why we follow you into battle.”
The entire team was buzzing with energy as we set up the space. The London studio wasn’t as lavish as our New York headquarters, but I preferred its clean, minimalist aesthetic. High ceilings, exposed brick walls, and massive windows letting in that rare London sunshine – it felt like a fresh start.
I was reviewing some preliminary sketches when Lucy’s voice cut through my concentration.
“Ma’am, there’s someone here to see you, but he doesn’t have an appointment.”
Cedric stood in my doorway, looking jet-lagged but pleased with himself.
“Cedric? What are you doing here? I thought you were still in New York!” I exclaimed, genuinely surprised but happy to see a familiar face.
He smiled that warm, gentle smile that always put me at ease. “Wrapped things up early and flew back as soon as I heard about your London adventure. Had to see this place for myself.”
Our London office was minimalist compared to the New York headquarters—black and white color scheme instead of our usual warm tones—but it had a certain elegant simplicity I was growing to love.
“Come in, sit down,” I said, handing the sketches to my assistant with a few quick instructions before guiding Cedric into my office.
I poured him water myself, apologizing for the sparse accommodations. “We’re still getting things set up. It’s a bit bare-bones at the moment.”
“It’s perfect,” he said, studying me with that concerned look he often wore. “You look well, but are you pushing yourself too hard? This is a massive undertaking, Serena.”
“I’m fine, really,” I assured him, sitting across from him. “Yes, it’s hectic now, but once Fashion Week is behind us, things will settle into a rhythm.”
Cedric nodded, his eyes shrewd. “So you are targeting Fashion Week. Have you met with the organizers yet?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” I confirmed. “Until then, I’m finalizing these designs. They need to be perfect.”
“You should know the competition is fierce,” he warned. “Those slots are coveted, and many established houses have standing reservations.”
His words added to the pressure building in my chest, but I refused to show it. “I’m well aware. But if we can make a splash at Fashion Week, Dreamland Studio will have officially arrived in London.”
Cedric’s lips curved into an admiring smile. “You’re as ambitious as ever. If there’s anything I can do to help—any connections I can leverage—just say the word.”
I nodded, assuming it was just a polite offer. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”
Before we could continue, my assistant knocked again, reminding me of my next meeting. Cedric took the hint and graciously excused himself, leaving me to dive back into the chaos.
Hours flew by in a blur of fabric swatches and design approvals. Before I knew it, darkness had fallen outside my window, and my phone buzzed with Ryan’s nightly check-in.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” His deep voice filled my ear, and I immediately felt both guilty and comforted.
I glanced at the time and winced. “Of course I have,” I lied, terribly unconvincingly.
“Really?” His skepticism traveled clearly across the Atlantic.
I laughed, caught red-handed. “Is this an interrogation, Mr. Blackwood?”
“I knew it,” he sighed. “I called specifically to remind you to eat. You always forget when you’re working.”
His concern warmed me from the inside out. God, I missed him already. “Yes, sir. I’ll go eat right this minute.”
“That’s better,” he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. “Have you visited your family home yet?”
My smile faded slightly. “Not yet. I’ll go after things settle down a bit.”
“Hmm,” Ryan hummed knowingly. “Afraid they’ll clip your wings once you’re back in the Quinn nest?”
I sighed. “Must you always see right through me? Yes, alright? I’m enjoying this freedom, this feeling of building something with my own hands again. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this… alive.”
His voice softened. “Then enjoy it. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself—proper meals, decent sleep. I need you coming back to me in one piece.”
“I promise,” I whispered, my heart aching with how much I missed him already.
After we hung up, I grabbed my coat, determined to keep my word about dinner. But when I reached the front door, I realized it was pouring rain outside, the wind whipping droplets against the windows.
“Ms. Quinn, would you like me to fetch dinner for you instead?” my assistant offered, always one step ahead.
Before I could answer, headlights flashed through the rain-streaked windows as a familiar car pulled up outside. Moments later, Cedric appeared at our door, umbrella in hand, his assistant behind him carrying what appeared to be bags of food.
“Serena, good evening,” he greeted me with perfect timing. “I thought you might be working late, so I brought dinner to you.”
I stared at him, completely caught off guard. He’d just been here this morning—what were the chances he’d show up again right when I needed food?
“Cedric,” I managed, the smell of whatever delicious food he’d brought making my stomach growl embarrassingly loud. “This is… unexpected.”
He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “Sometimes the best gestures are unexpected ones, wouldn’t you agree?”