CHAPTER 255: CHAPTER 255 MIRA: WAITING FOR THE OTHER SHOE TO DROP

‘If you cut any deeper, you’ll lose a finger.’

‘What?’ I looked up.

Fabrizio gently took the precision blade from my gloved hand. ‘You’re distracted. Not a great headspace for working with sharp objects.’

‘Sorry.’ I stripped off the gloves and stood. ‘Think I need some air.’

‘Come to Café Loufoque with me. I’m dying for a noisette, and you could use a caffeine hit too.’

‘Sure.’

We stepped out of the workshop. Even with my mind elsewhere, something felt off.

‘Where is everyone?’ The open-plan office was quieter than usual, half the desks empty.

‘On leave,’ Fabrizio said. ‘April is always slow. Most people use up their annual holiday now.’

‘Oh.’ I followed him into the lift. ‘I’ve never seen you take a day off.’

‘I’m the boss. Can’t afford those luxuries.’ He smiled. ‘But if you decide to stay, you can have mine. I’ve got months’ worth piled up.’

‘Still trying to poach me, huh?’ I smiled back. ‘Thanks, but I’ve got Mira Joie.’

‘We could join forces.’

‘Funny you say that. I’ve made up my mind—I’m signing the joint venture papers.’

‘You are?’ His head snapped round. His eyes lit up. ‘That’s brilliant.’

I nodded. ‘I’d already decided. Just needed to shift some funds around.’

The money Dominic had been transferring to me on Ashton’s orders every month was still untouched, sitting in a separate account.

Now that I was preparing for a future without Ashton, I was definitely not about to start using it.

Between my savings and income from the studio, I had enough to cover half the investment.

‘This calls for a celebration,’ Fabrizio said, veering off course and dragging me down a different street. ‘Proper food. Not just coffee and croissants.’

‘You’re paying.’

‘Of course.’ He found a table, ordered for both of us. ‘I’ll send over the share purchase agreement this afternoon. Get a lawyer to look it over.’

‘Will do.’

He studied me. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think going into business with me had depressed you.’

I forced a smile. It felt fake, so I gave up and shrugged. ‘It’s not that. I’m just tired.’

‘I’ve been working you too hard,’ he said, sounding guilty.

‘No, I love the work.’ I couldn’t exactly tell him I had a feeling my engagement was circling the drain. So I said, ‘I’ll probably be spending more time in Paris. Might even move the studio here.’

‘Yes!’ he said, actually snapping his fingers. I’d never seen him do that. ‘I wanted to bring it up, but figured I’d sound too eager. You’ve no idea how happy that makes me.’

I raised my glass. ‘Cheers.’

At least Fabrizio’s offer was real, solid. Something I could build on.

Ashton had been back in Skyline for two days. We’d called over the weekend, gone through the motions—‘How was your day?’ ‘Did you eat?’ ‘Sleep well?’ ‘Goodnight.’

But I could feel the performance on both ends.

He seemed distracted. Like something was sitting heavy on his mind.

A few times, he opened his mouth to speak. Then changed his mind.

He had that look—hesitant, guilty. Like someone about to say something they didn’t want to say.

I didn’t push him.

When he was ready, he’d tell me.

But the signs were all there. He’d stopped chasing me about the wedding dress. Never asked for my guest list. The honeymoon chat had gone cold.

Fabrizio, ever the gracious host, didn’t pry, but he must’ve sensed something.

After a long lunch, we went back to the office.

I signed the share agreement and transferred the money.

Just like that, we were business partners.

I shoved thoughts of Ashton into a mental drawer and got back to work, sketching out a new collection using plique-à-jour enamelling.

Work, work, work.

It was the only thing keeping me steady right now.

But once I left the office, I was back to being that hollow, floating version of myself—adrift in a foreign city.

Yvaine knew me too well. The silence on the phone barely lasted a second before she pounced.

‘Spill.’

I didn’t want to.

I’d been dreading this. Yvaine had a way of putting into words things I couldn’t bear to admit.

But she wasn’t the type to let it go.

‘Tell me over the phone, or I’ll fly to Paris and drag it out of you in person.’

‘I... I don’t think there’s going to be a wedding, after all.’

Silence.

Then: ‘Start from the beginning. No skipping.’

So I told her everything—the woman in the red dress, the almost-kiss, the sudden call that pulled him away, the way they’d flown back to Skyline together.

And the sinking feeling that this woman meant more to Ashton than anyone else ever had. Including me.

‘He hasn’t said anything,’ I said. ‘But I can feel it. A breakup’s coming.’

I heard footsteps on her end.

‘You going somewhere?’

‘Just stepping onto the balcony,’ she said. ‘Need some air. Then I can tell you—’

She paused.

Then shouted, loud enough to burst an eardrum: ‘YOU BLOODY IDIOT!’