Chapter 564
Chapter 564:
The man in the seat beside me, a trim executive in a navy suit with a smile polished to boardroom standards, decided I looked like an easy target for conversation.
“First time visiting Skyline?” he asked, with the kind of relentless cheerfulness that belonged to someone determined to network at thirty thousand feet.
“No,” I said, adjusting the blanket across my lap.
He leaned closer, as if I had opened the door to more. “Do you live there or work there? I’m in tech investments myself. Always interesting to meet someone new in the city. What line are you in p>
“I design jewelry,” I said flatly.
His eyes lit up. “How fascinating. There’s a lot of synergy between luxury retail and tech investment right now. Partnerships, new retail platforms, personalization algorithms… I’d love to hear more about your business p>
“I don’t want to talk about my business,” I said, pulling my headphones from my bag.
He laughed as though I were joking. “Just a short conversation. What’s the name of your studio? Perhaps I can help you with capital expansion. Growth strategies, that sort of thing p>
I put my headphones in and turned to the window.
That was the end of that.
He muttered something under his breath, but I had stopped caring. All I could see were the storm clouds shifting below us, their shadows swallowing the sea. My thoughts dragged me back to the island, to Ashton’s feverish skin, the way he gripped my wrist as though he might never let go.
Then, to Lea.
By the time the wheels touched down on the runway, my chest felt as though it had been wrapped in barbed wire.
The cab dropped me off outside Mira Joie. It was early evening, but the windows were still glowing. Through the glass, I saw Priya hunched over her desk, two pencils stabbed through her bun, her hands busy with a necklace that glittered under the lamp.
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺
When I pushed open the door, the bell jingled faintly.
Priya looked up and froze, then let out a squeal. “Mira! Finally p>
Before I could say a word, she rushed at me, arms wide. The pencils clattered to the floor as she pulled me into a hug.
“Do you know how close I came to scratching your name on the wall like a prisoner counting days?” she demanded. “You vanish for weeks, and I’m drowning here p>
Her desk confirmed it—coffee cups, sketches, gem samples, and orders stacked in folders. My chest tightened with guilt.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Sorry isn’t going to stop me from turning into a corpse buried under unfinished commissions,” she said, half laughing, half on the verge of tears. “Look at this. Three custom orders overdue, one supplier demanding blood, and I had to beg someone to help with deliveries. I almost sold my soul to keep this place alive p>
I squeezed her shoulders. “I’ll fix it. I’ll be here more. I promise p>
She pulled back and narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you mean that, or is this just a brief visit before you fly back to Paris, to your new job p>
I opened my mouth, but she had me.
“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to sound so pushy. Just… don’t disappear on me again, please. This is your studio, you know p>
“I won’t,” I whispered.