Chapter 11
Hayes's POV
Bobby slid into the passenger seat, bringing the scent of coffee and the particular energy of someone who'd just completed a delicate negotiation.
"Well?" My voice was low, carefully controlled. "Did she sign?"
"Signed. Asked fewer questions than I expected, honestly." Bobby turned to look at me, and I knew that expression too well—evaluating just how crazy I was. "You sure you want to do this?"
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. "She won't accept help from me directly."
"So you're going to hide behind my company and pretend this is normal business?"
"It is normal business. I need custom cleats for the comeback season. She's a custom designer. The transaction is legitimate."
"Sure it is." Bobby pulled out his phone, scrolling through something with deliberate casualness. "You're paying triple market rate because you can't stand watching her studio go under."
"That's not—" I stopped myself. My jaw was clenched so tight it was starting to hurt. Finally, I took off the sunglasses. No point anymore. Bobby could see through everything. "She's the best in the business. The price reflects quality."
"Of course." Bobby's tone carried that particular exhaustion only old friends used.
I said nothing. The silence in the car had weight, pressing down.
Bobby tucked the signed contract into his messenger bag. "She asked about pricing."
I kept my eyes on the windshield, watching Sienna's silhouette through the coffee shop window. She hadn't moved from the booth, still staring at something on the table. Probably the contract copy Bobby had left her.
"And?"
"Told her it was standard for rush work with performance guarantees." Bobby's tone was matter-of-fact, but I caught the edge underneath. "She didn't push. Guess she needs the money too badly to question it."
"About that." Bobby paused. "With her studio's situation, getting materials immediately is going to be difficult."
"What do you mean?"
Bobby leaned back against the seat, studying me with that particular expression that meant he was about to say something I didn't want to hear. "The big suppliers have long-term contracts with major brands. Small operations either wait months, or they pay markup that kills their margins."
"How long are we talking?"
"Conceria, at least a month. Maybe longer if they're backed up." He paused. "Unless she wants to pay triple."
I looked back at the coffee shop. Sienna had stood now, gathering her things.
A month. She didn't have a month.
"Fix it," I said.
Bobby sighed—that long-suffering sound whenever I decided something was non-negotiable. "Hayes—"
"I don't care what it takes. Call suppliers, pull favors, throw money at it. She needs those materials within twenty-four hours."
"You realize she's going to figure this out, right?" Bobby's voice had gone flat. "The second Conceria suddenly prioritizes some nobody studio in Rust Arts District, she's going to know someone pulled strings."
"Then be subtle about it." I looked at him. "I don't care what you have to tell them. Just make sure she can start work tomorrow."
Bobby was silent for a long moment. Then: "You're still in love with her."
It wasn't a question.
I didn't answer. Maybe that was exactly what this was.
---
Sienna's POV
The studio exploded when I walked in.
"We got it!" I announced, holding up my phone with the contract confirmation email still glowing on screen. "Fifty thousand per pair. Five-pair initial order."
Reina's coffee mug hit the desk. "Wait—what?"
"Two hundred fifty thousand dollars." I couldn't keep the disbelief out of my voice. "Deposit's already processing."
The room went silent for exactly two seconds. Then chaos.
The others' laughter carried that slightly hysterical edge that meant they couldn't quite process what they were hearing.
Reina was the only one who stayed calm, eyes narrowed, already doing calculations. "Timeline?"
And just like reality crashed back in.
"Twenty-four hours to submit revised design. Two weeks for production." I set my bag down, moving to my workstation. "They want Conceria ultrafiber and Degermann calfskin lining."
The celebration died instantly.
Reina sighed. "The materials we ordered a few days ago are still pending."
I pulled up my supplier contacts on the computer, trying to ignore the knot forming in my stomach. "I'll call them. Offer premium rates if they can expedite."
"Sienna." Reina's tone made me look up. "Degermann's premium rates mean losing more than half the profit margin. And they still might not deliver in time."
"Then what do you suggest?" The words came out sharper than I intended. "Use second-tier materials? Tell the client sorry, we can't actually deliver what we promised?"
Lia jumped in, tentative. "What about synthetic alternatives? Some of the new microfiber composites are almost—"
"No." I cut her off, harsher than necessary. "The specs explicitly require genuine leather. No synthetics."
The room went quiet again, but this time it felt different. Heavy. Like everyone was thinking the same thing but nobody wanted to say it.
We were fucked.
"Let me contact them," I said finally. "Maybe I can negotiate something."
Reina gave me a look that clearly said she thought I was delusional, but nodded. "Your call."
I picked up my phone and stepped into the office.
Pulled up the supplier's contact.
Took a breath. Hit dial.
It rang once. Twice.
"Mr. Barnett speaking."
"Hi, this is Sienna Thorne from K&C Studio. We spoke a few days ago—"
"Ms. Thorne." His voice was cold, barely polite. "What can I do for you?"
"I need to expedite an order of Conceria ultrafiber and Degermann calfskin lining." I tried to keep my voice steady. "I know you mentioned a queue before, but this project is urgent, and I'm willing to pay premium rates—"
"Ms. Thorne." He cut me off, his tone even colder. "I explained this to you last month. High-end materials have a schedule. Independent studios don't get priority."
"I understand, but—"
"The earliest slot is a month out. Even with expedited processing, it's two weeks." His voice left no room for negotiation. "This is company policy, not something I can change."
My fingers tightened around the phone. "What if I pay triple?"
Brief silence. Then: "Ms. Thorne, this isn't about money. It's about capacity. Our client list is full, mostly with long-term major brands." He paused. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you."
"What about other suppliers? Does your company have—"
"All the same." His tone softened slightly, but remained firm. "This quarter's premium leather is basically all pre-booked. I suggest you consider alternative materials or adjust your project timeline."
Keyboard clicking sounds came through the phone, like he was already handling the next task.
"Alright." I heard myself say, voice hollow. "Thank you for your time."
"You're welcome. Good luck, Ms. Thorne."
He hung up.
I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, listening to the dial tone.