CHAPTER 266: CHAPTER 266 MIRA: AN OFFER I CAN’T IGNORE

‘If the company’s liquidated, we lose everything. The CAD models, portfolios, inventory. I can find a job elsewhere easily with my CV, but I like the company, I like the work, and I want to stay.’

Peter Carl’s voice had lost its usual breeziness.

‘But what can I do?’ I still didn’t see why he thought I could save the company. I was in hot water myself. With Fabrizio gone, my joint venture with him was finished, and the product launch I’d poured the last two months into would die with it.

I’d already given up hope of getting my money back. The only thing left seemed to be leaving.

‘You have a studio, don’t you? So you’ve got management experience,’ Peter Carl said.

I gave a wry smile. ‘As Fabrizio has so clearly demonstrated, running a small independent studio and running a big company aren’t the same thing.’

‘I know, but I have faith in you.’

‘I don’t have faith in myself.’

‘Come on. Just think about it. If you buy Valmont & Cie now, you’ll get it cheap. The investors will be glad to sell for cents on the dollar just to recoup something. And I don’t know about the others, but I’m willing to take a pay cut. You could still go ahead with your product launch. Valmont has everything: the infrastructure, manufacturing, marketing networks, distribution channels. All that could be yours. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to break into the ultra-competitive Paris fashion market.’

I had to admit, he made valid points.

Ten minutes ago, I’d been so discouraged I just wanted to pack up, go home, and find somewhere to sulk and lick my wounds in peace.

But now... maybe his idea could work.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ I said at last.

‘Yes, of course, but don’t take too long. Will you let me know before the court puts the company up for auction? I can help you get in touch with the investors if you decide to buy.’

I was torn.

What designer worth her salt hadn’t dreamed of conquering Paris, the fashion capital of the world?

And he was right, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. If I missed it, I wouldn’t get another opportunity dropped into my lap so neatly.

It was like someone offering you Apple shares before they went public. If you hesitated even for a second before pulling out your chequebook, you were an idiot.

Still, buying the company meant a commitment that would tie me to Paris for the foreseeable future. I’d have to relocate, move away from Skyline, from Ashton.

I’d have to merge Mira Joie with Valmont & Cie.

And... what would Ashton think?

How would he react to me moving thousands of miles away less than two months before the wedding?

Would a long-distance relationship work?

I strolled down the street aimlessly, the fragrant spring air doing nothing to clear my head.

I stared at my phone and almost called him, then decided against it.

My mind was still a mess, and I didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid in the heat of the moment.

I already regretted the drunken outburst the night before, when I’d blamed him for ruining my plans.

If not for his interference, the police might have arrested Fabrizio, and none of this would have happened.

I stopped myself before I could start pinning more blame on him.

I called Priya instead, who’d been sending me regular work updates by email.

Priya said the publicity from the Aureate Awards win was still paying off, with more customer enquiries coming in.

Octavia Grey, the A-list actress, had been promoting Mira Joie on her social media, and the traffic was higher than ever.

‘When are you coming back?’ Priya asked. ‘I’m starting to feel guilty for turning customers away.’

‘Soon,’ I lied, just to put her at ease. ‘No customisation projects for now, stick with the catalogue we’ve got.’

‘I know, but even those are selling fast. Our OEM factory can’t keep up. The owner called me the other day, said his is a small-scale operation, he relies on skilled artisans and traditional craftsmanship, and when we signed the contract, we never said it would be bulk production.’

‘Reach out to other OEMs,’ I said. ‘See how they operate, get samples, and if the price and quality match what we have now, sign them on.’

‘Shouldn’t you be here to make those decisions? I’ll be out of my depth.’

‘I’m promoting you to general manager. I’ll guide you along the way. Get me on a video call when you tour the factories and review the samples. We’ll decide together.’

‘Okay.’ She still didn’t sound convinced. She’d never had this much responsibility before.

I spent another half-hour going over the studio’s operations with her and tried to ease her mind. That part was easy.

Easing my own mind was harder.

I sat on a bench in a park and called Yvaine.

I heard wind howling in the background and asked, ‘Where are you?’

‘Courchevel!’ she shouted over the wind. ‘Skiing with Cade.’

‘Want to come to Paris? I’ll be your tour guide.’

‘No thanks for the tour. I’ve been there too many times. But I’ll come, since you’re my bestie. Want to show me your wedding dress? Don’t tell me you still haven’t picked one.’

‘I have. Sort of. That’s part of why I want you to come. You have impeccable taste.’

‘I do. What’s the other part?’

I told her briefly about Valmont & Cie’s crisis and said I needed her advice.

‘Sure, I’ll come and offer my two cents’ worth. But you know business isn’t my thing. That’s my brother’s forte. I can ask him to join the consult if you want. But the person you should really ask is Ashton. He’s your partner in more than one sense.’

‘I know.’ I sighed.

After ending the call, I rang Ashton.

I still didn’t know how to face him, knowing that Franklin had died in prison.

Yes, it was suicide, but he wouldn’t have been there if not for Ashton.

Was it unfair to blame him, though?

He’d done it for me, after all.

Franklin had tried to cheat me out of my inheritance, and he had committed those crimes.

And after seeing how Ashton had dealt with his own father and stepmother, who were far more scheming than Franklin, I knew he’d actually been lenient.

He’d only wanted to protect me.

Still, Franklin was my father. I couldn’t help but lay part of the blame for his death on Ashton.

Those thoughts swirled in my head as I waited for the call to connect.

The ringing went on and on, until a robotic voice cut in and told me to leave a message.

I frowned at the phone.

Why wasn’t Ashton picking up?