{DASHA}
{Present Day}
A woman was screaming in my face in Russian, but I couldn't understand her. Why was she so fucking angry? I'd arrived on time this morning for work, pastry and cappuccino in hand, ready to tackle the day.
It took a lot to rattle me, so I just sipped my coffee as Valentina continued to rant, her olive skin flushing to almost purple. She was an assistant to Domenico, the owner and head designer of the fashion house where I was currently interning, and she didn't seem to like me much.
But I wasn't here to make friends. I wanted to learn how to take my designs and build a brand, a sustainable, avant-garde brand like Domenico's. He'd established one of the world's most exclusive labels before the age of twenty-five.
"I do not understand," I said when Valentina took a breath. "Slowly." I'd been telling people to speak slower ever since I arrived three weeks ago.
