The day rolled on with steady precision, the rhythm of Xavier's office punctuated only by quiet footsteps, clicking keyboards, and the occasional buzz of his phone.
His assistant reappeared, lightly knocking before stepping in.
"Sir," the assistant began, a small clipboard in hand. "The news has been confirmed. Mrs. Dravin will be attending the meeting alongside her husband."
It will be just the two of them.
Xavier's gaze flicked up from the papers he had been reviewing. He let the words settle for a beat. Somehow, he had already expected this.
"Good," he said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "That gives us a stronger opening."
"Yes, sir. Should I inform the team to proceed with the dress presentation plan?"
"Not just yet." Xavier's fingers tapped rhythmically on the polished surface of his desk. His mind was already racing through possibilities, spinning scenarios, weighing outcomes.
Bringing the dress was one thing. Having it presented by the designer herself? That would send a message—not just of effort, but of intention.
He imagined it: Mrs. Dravin being introduced not just to a product, but to the person behind it. The craftsmanship, and the appearance of the designer will send a statement.
It would feel personal. It would feel deliberate.
His assistant was still standing, waiting for instructions.
"Do we know if Mrs. Dravin prefers a formal approach or something more conversational?" Xavier asked suddenly.
"From the files and our sources, she appreciates authenticity. She doesn't like being over-wooed. She responds better when things are presented with genuine thought, and if she likes the dress I'm sure she'll love to know the designer.
That sealed it in Xavier's mind.
"Perfect," he said, more to himself than to his assistant. "A direct introduction from the designer would strike the right chord."
His assistant scribbled something quickly. "Should I brief Amara?"
"No," Xavier said, his decision crystallizing. "I'll speak to her myself."
"Understood."
When his assistant exited, Xavier sat in silence, his gaze drifting out the tall windows. The skyline sprawled before him—sharp edges of ambition, steel, and glass cutting into the horizon.
His father's voice echoed faintly in his memory: Precision, Xavier. That's what separates leaders from gamblers. Precision.
He had always prided himself on his precision. Every move calculated, every decision weighted carefully.
But lately… lately, his thoughts wandered in ways he couldn't always control. Sometimes to Lilian. Sometimes to the questions he didn't have the courage to fully confront yet.
But he tries to remain focused, "Thinking maybe balancing the wedding preparations and work is starting to take a toll on him."
The Dravin deal was crucial. It could anchor the expansion he had been pushing for—solidify his position before his father eventually stepped back.
He leaned forward again, flipping through the revised projections his team had prepared. His phone buzzed with incoming emails, but he ignored them for now.
His mind kept returning to the same solution.
Bringing Amara would not only demonstrate the company's commitment to detail, but it would also elevate her. Letting her showcase the dress herself gave their pitch a personal touch—and it gave her a rare spotlight.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized this wasn't just a good idea—it was the right one.
But would she agree to it?
Xavier glanced at the clock. It was nearing the end of the workday, but somehow he doubted Amara would have already left her shop. She didn't strike him as someone who worked by the hour.
He tapped his pen on the desk.
He would go to her shop later tonight. He wanted to discuss this directly, face-to-face. He wanted her to see that this wasn't just about ticking a box—it was about seizing an opportunity.
And, though he wouldn't admit it out loud, maybe part of him just wanted to see her work.
To see her in her space.
He shook his head lightly, brushing away the thought.
His phone buzzed again—a message from the logistics team. He quickly drafted a response, redirecting his attention to the next task. There were still reports to review, contracts to approve, backup plans to reinforce.
The deal with Dravin wasn't just about winning—it was about lasting. It was about building something that could weather storms, something that could carry the company forward, with or without his father's shadow looming over it.
His schedule for the evening was tight, but he made a mental note: Stop by Amara's shop. Tonight.
It wouldn't take long, he told himself.
Just long enough to offer her the opportunity.
Just long enough to see if she would say yes.
With a final glance at the dress specifications in Mrs. Dravin's file, Xavier closed the folder.
The pieces were coming together.
The next step depended on Amara.
And he would make sure she understood just how much this moment could mean—for both of them.