House of Passion--Book One by Tasha Fawkes

Author:Tasha Fawkes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Safira Press

Five

Celina

It took a couple of days, but my embarrassment and regrets over the fashion show slowly faded. I needed to get over myself. I was a nobody here. I came to work, did my job, and then went back home. Nobody special. It’s not that I’m putting myself down, but I’m being honest. In other words, I come to work and pretty much mind my own business, typically dealing only with Paula and fellow designers for collaboration.

I don’t gossip or schmooze, and I stay busy following guidelines provided by Paula and Julian, selecting fabrics, colors, patterns and embellishments for the garments or accessories under design. I’m getting pretty good at utilizing the CAD program, the computer aided design software that speeds up productivity like you wouldn’t believe. When asked, I also partake in developing ideas and discussions regarding themes for specific collections. Of course, I also spend a lot of time online and browsing through magazines studying the current fashion trends and making an effort to anticipate what consumers might be looking for.

Actually, I had convinced myself that I didn’t have time to look backward at my disastrous appearance on the catwalk this past weekend. I have enough uncertainty and insecurity in my life as it is. So what the hell am I doing working in the fashion industry? It’s the epitome of uncertainty. My job is stressful and often unrewarding, meaning that my efforts and input are often taken for granted, or on occasion, even “stolen” by Paula, who blatantly claims an idea or whatever is hers. After the debacle this past weekend, I wondered if I had suddenly become disposable. I—

“Celina, Paula wants to see you in her office.”

I jolted from my thoughts, my fingers frozen over my laptop as I worked on different lines for the skirt I was working on. I glanced up at Stacy, Paula’s assistant, eyebrows lifted in question. She merely shrugged in response. My heart sank. Was this it? Was I going to be reamed a new one for embarrassing the Gallagher Fashion House? It hadn’t been my idea, but Julian’s. If it was anybody’s fault, it was his. I saved my work on the laptop, closed the lid, and then reluctantly made my way to my manager’s office.

The overall space I worked in took up pretty much the entire third floor, broken down into cubicles with walls that reached about head high, but above was open space. Paula’s glassed in office was in the southwest corner of the space, while Julian’s was in the northeast corner. Of course, they both had window offices.

I reached Paula’s office and knocked softly, just as the door swung open. I automatically started to step forward, but then halted when a man exited. I quickly stepped back to avoid being knocked down. I glanced up at the man, who murmured an apology as my heart skipped a beat. He winked down at me and then grinned. I stared. It was Wes Scott, Travis Gallagher’s chief financial officer and right-hand man.

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