Chapter 19: Fashion Show
***Vanessa’s POV***
The scale of the fashion show location blew my mind as soon as I walked through the door. The room was cavernous, with the great expanse of the ceiling breathtakingly lit by cascading crystal chandeliers that resembled a constellation of stars. Tables piled high with spritz and fine tips of champagne flutes and petit fours spilled out across the room, while a sleek runway twisted and turned like a shimmering stream through the center. The who's who of the fashion world milled about, dressed in haute couture that looked more like art than clothing.
For just about the entire day, I had been thinking about what to wear. Emma hadn’t stopped me from intervening to assist in the selection of a dress, again emphasizing the necessity to leave a mark. I eventually settled on a flowing emerald green gown with a subtle shimmer, the fabric hugging my curves in all the right places before cascading to the floor. My auburn hair was styled in an exquisite updo, with some tendrils grazing my face.
However, even while wearing this dress, I felt out of sorts.
“Vanessa.”
I whirled around at the sound of Sergie's voice, my heart pounding in my chest.
He was impossible to miss. Dressed in a tailored black suit with a silk tie that gleamed under the lights, he looked every bit the powerful mogul he was. His dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing blue eyes inspected the room with an equal mix of control and power. The moment our eyes locked, something changed on his face—intensity building in my heart.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low.
“Thank you,” I murmured, suddenly conscious of how my cheeks burned. “You look… very dashing.”
He smirked, offering his arm. “Shall we?” Every time we moved through the room, Sergie was stopped now and then to be greeted by members of the audience. I tried to vanish into the background, but his grip on my arm was strong, as if I were permanently fastened to him.
“It’s a real party,” I whispered, my voice drowned out by the noise of people talking.
“It’s important,” he replied. “Not just for Ivanov Designs but for the industry. The stakes are high tonight.”
I smiled as models wearing avant-garde clothes lined up for their turn to walk the runway backstage. There was electric energy in the room—excitement and apprehension mixed together.
***Sergie’s POV***
Vanessa's presence at my back was both a comfort and a distraction. She looked beautiful tonight—her green dress complementing the richness of her green eyes, her typical reserve replaced by beautifully understated class. I couldn’t help but glance at her more often than necessary; her soft features contrasted sharply with the event around us.
The show started with an upbeat stram tune as the lights slowly dimmed for the first model making her way down the runway. The combination was bold and inventive; each outfit paid homage to the skill and thought of my crew. I should have been focused on every detail, but instead, I found myself watching Vanessa.
She bent forward gently, her eyes wide with wonder as models floated by. Her love of design was evident, making her all the more alluring.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
The voice sent a chill down my spine. I turned to see Irina Volkova standing behind me, her icy blue eyes fixed on Vanessa.
Irina was a vision in a sophisticated silver dress that glittered like liquid metal. Her blonde hair was coiffed into a fashionable chignon, and her red lips were set into a smile frozen in place—one that did not reflect the emptiness behind her stare.
“What are you doing here, Irina?” I asked coldly.
She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Sergie, darling, I’m part of this world. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
I felt Vanessa stiffen beside me. “Irina, this isn’t the time or place.”
“But it’s the perfect time,” she said, stepping closer. “I wanted to see you… to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Her smile wavered for a moment before rebounding. “Sergie, I’ve changed. I made mistakes, but I still care about you. We were so good together.”
“Stop,” I said sharply, my voice low but firm. “Whatever we had is over. It’s been over for years.”
Irina glanced at Vanessa again; her expression was unreadable. “I see you’ve moved on,” she said smoothly. “She’s… different.”
Vanessa's cheeks flushed, but she did not look away when she met Irina's gaze. I felt a surge of admiration for her courage.
“Excuse us,” I said, holding onto Vanessa's hand and pulling her out of harm's way.
***Vanessa’s POV***
My heart raced against my rib cage as Sergie yanked me through the crowd; his grip was firm yet gentle. Having Irina around disturbed me in ways I couldn't articulate.
“Are you okay?” Sergie asked softly now.
I nodded. “She’s… very striking.”
“She’s manipulative and toxic,” he said bluntly.
I hesitated. “But you were with her once?”
His jaw tightened. “A long time ago—and it was the worst mistake of my life.”
I couldn’t help but hear the pain in his voice and felt unexpectedly drawn into a protective feeling toward him. The rest of the show passed in a blur. I couldn't stop thinking about my conversation with Irina; I couldn’t shake off that strange feeling of seeing her around Sergie. It wasn’t just unease—it was jealousy.
I tried to rationalize it: Sergie was my boss—nothing more. However, the idea of him with someone like Irina made my chest ache in ways I couldn't grasp.
“Vanessa?”
I turned to see Sergie looking at me intently; his blue gaze bore into me.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He stepped closer; his presence felt overwhelming. “No, you’re not.”
I turned away from him; however, he grasped my chin gently and forced me to look into his eyes. “Talk to me.”
I swallowed hard. “I just… she’s everything I’m not: sophisticated, confident, stunning. I don’t see how I could ever compare.”
His expression softened. “Vanessa, don’t ever compare yourself to her. You’re nothing like Irina—and that’s a good thing.”
“Is it?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You’re real—genuine. She’s nothing but a facade.”
His thumb brushed against my cheek (and my gasp stopped). The space between us filled with thick electric air that I couldn't identify.
“Sergie…”
He leaned closer; his gaze dropped to my lips. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me.
But then he pulled back; his jaw tightened. “I should take you home.”
***Sergie’s POV***
Driving Vanessa back to her apartment was torture. Every glance at her—every memory of how she’d looked at me—only deepened the emotions I was trying to suppress.
As we approached her building, she paused before exiting.
“Thank you, Sergie,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
Her words lingered in the air, Her words hung there full of unspoken meaning. I opened my mouth to respond but found myself at a loss: for everything? Did she mean for giving her a chance at Ivanov Designs? My confidence in her skills? Or… was it something deeper?
“No need to thank me,” I finally said; my voice harsher than intended.
Vanessa winked at me sweetly; her emerald eyes shimmered under the glow of the streetlamp. She paused as if she wanted to say more but instead nodded and got out of the car. I watched her walk up to the door; her green dress stained the background with luminous color.
She turned around for a brief second; making a slight wave before disappearing into the building.
I sat helplessly with my hands tightly gripping the steering wheel; my mind was tempestuous with contradictory thoughts and feelings about her presence in my life—she didn’t realize how much she was helping me.
Groaning deeply, I pulled away from the curb and drove up to my penthouse apartment—but no matter how far I drove, memories of her face and voice clung to me like shadows. The next morning found me sitting in my office staring blankly at a report from Julian; my thoughts kept returning to Vanessa and that look she gave me last night—something frail yet strong drew me toward her like a magnet.
But I couldn’t let myself fall for her.
In fact, Irina's arrival had evoked too many painful memories; she taught me that vulnerability could be dangerous—that trusting the wrong person could leave permanent scars that never quite healed.
Vanessa was different—I knew that—but fear of repeating past mistakes held me back from taking that next step or saying what truly mattered.
Groaning again, I closed Julian's report and collapsed back into my chair; outside on the street below stretched New York City—a testament to an empire built by myself.
Would letting Vanessa in destroy everything I'd worked for? Or perhaps she was that missing piece I'd never known to seek?
The hum of city life buzzed behind me as I stared down at its skyline; Vanessa's image lingered in my mind like both phantom and whisper—a reminder that change might be worth embracing after all.