CHAPTER 270: CHAPTER 270 THE INVITATION

Serena’s POV

I stared at Cedric in surprise as I realized what he was holding. His assistant carried bags of what looked like—and smelled like—heaven after my long day.

"I was passing by and figured you’d be too busy to eat properly," he explained with that easy smile of his. "So I brought dinner."

"Thank you, but this is way too much food for just me," I said, eyeing the multiple bags.

"The coffee and desserts are for your team," he clarified smoothly. "Everyone’s been working so hard today. I thought they deserved a treat."

My assistant’s face lit up immediately. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lancaster!"

"Why don’t you distribute those?" Cedric suggested to her before turning back to me. "It’s pretty windy outside, Serena. Let’s go in and talk."

I nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. We walked back to my makeshift office space where he carefully arranged the takeout containers on my desk.

"What’s on your mind?" he asked, handing me chopsticks. "You should eat before it gets cold. This place has excellent food."

"Thanks," I mumbled, taking a bite of the food. The familiar taste hit me instantly, and I froze mid-chew.

Cedric’s lips curved into a knowing smile. "Familiar flavor, isn’t it?"

I slowly looked up at him, realizing where this food was from. "This is from that restaurant near campus! The one we used to go to all the time during university!"

"It certainly is. The owner’s done well for himself—the place is twice the size it used to be."

My eyes brightened, momentarily forgetting my initial reservations about Cedric’s attention. "Really? I definitely need to visit when I have time!"

He watched me eat with satisfaction, clearly pleased by my reaction. The brief dinner felt like a time capsule back to our university days, before everything got complicated. Unfortunately, I couldn’t eat much despite the nostalgic flavors, and our dinner ended all too quickly.

"Thanks again for tonight, Cedric," I said as we finished.

"Don’t mention it," he replied casually. "While you’re in London, anything you need—anything at all—just tell me. I’ll make it happen."

The Lancaster family wielded considerable influence in London, making his offer more substantial than mere politeness. Still, I shook my head quickly.

"That’s very generous, but I can handle things myself," I insisted.

Cedric nodded without pushing further and stood to leave. "It’s getting late. I should go. You should wrap up soon too, Serena."

His respectful boundaries made the whole interaction surprisingly comfortable. "I will, just need to finish up a few things first."

After he left, I returned to the main workspace where my team was enjoying the treats he’d brought.

"Everyone’s been working so hard these past few days," I announced, pulling out my phone. "I just sent a bonus to the group chat—don’t forget to claim it!"

"Thank you, Boss!" They cheered, their energy visibly renewed.

---

The next day, I met with Mr. Sterling from the Fashion Week organizing committee at Time Light Café. After exchanging pleasantries, I got straight to business.

"These are the design sketches from Dreamland Studio," I said, sliding the portfolio across the table. "I understand the competition for the Fall Fashion Week is fierce, especially for newcomers like us in London. We’re genuinely grateful for this opportunity."

Sterling accepted the portfolio but barely glanced at it before closing it again. His expression made my stomach sink.

"Mrs. Blackwood," he began, using my married name despite the fact I’d introduced myself as Serena Quinn. "I’ve heard of Dreamland Studio. You’ve made quite a name for yourself back in the States."

He paused, clearly uncomfortable. "But I’m afraid you’ve come too late. The Fashion Week participant list has already been finalized."

My expression faltered. When I’d originally contacted him, he’d given no indication the list was already set. How could everything be locked in after just one day?

"Mr. Sterling," I pressed, "as I mentioned, we’re willing to accommodate any requirements you might have. This opportunity means a great deal to us."

He sighed, looking genuinely apologetic. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Blackwood, but the list isn’t solely my decision. The planning started a month ago, and we just confirmed the final participants this week."

"I came today specifically to apologize in person. I hope we can work together next time."

I took a deep breath, unwilling to give up so easily. "Mr. Sterling, I understand the significance of Fall Fashion Week. Is there any possibility of adding just one more slot?"

"I truly am sorry, Mrs. Quinn." His expression shifted slightly. "Perhaps you might want to contact my supervisor? There’s a chance things could change."

I could read between the lines. He didn’t want to offend me, knowing Dreamland was backed by Blackwood Group. But he had his own relationships to maintain with local studios who had connections with his bosses.

"I see. Thank you for the suggestion," I said, biting my lip.

Sterling nodded, visibly relieved, and quickly found an excuse to leave.

I sat there flipping through our meticulously prepared sketches, disappointment settling heavy in my chest.

"What’s wrong?"

I looked up to find Cedric standing before me, casually taking the seat across from mine.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised.

"I had a client meeting here. What a coincidence finding you here too." Seeing my downcast expression, he ventured, "Let me guess—the committee rejected your application?"

I nodded. "I should’ve come to London earlier to handle all this properly."

"Don’t get discouraged," he said gently. "Fashion Week doesn’t start for another week. I could help you with this."

I shook my head immediately. "No need. I’ll figure something out myself. I’m determined to be part of this Fashion Week, one way or another."

Hearing my refusal, Cedric seemed to want to say more but held back. "At least let me drive you back."

"Thanks, but my assistant is waiting in the car. It’s getting late—I won’t keep you from your work."

As I slid into my car, a new idea formed. The head of the organizing committee was Orion Nelson. Perhaps there was still a chance if I approached him directly.