Page 95 of Falling Like Stars

“I’m not suggesting anything.” I point to where Tessa is being fitted and measured. “That’s my dress. Think about it, Dottie. When did the artistic direction shift to all these new ideas? Just after I left, right?”

Dottie leans in. “Laurent Moreau doesn’t need to steal ideas from anyone. He’s a world-renowned designer. A legend in the business with a lasting reputation that many people have tried—and failed—to shake. You aren’t the first.”

“Maybe there’s a good reason for that.”

She crosses her arms, and I can see she’s fighting with herself. “There are literally a hundred people from the warehouse who saw you run out of here last week with the sketchbook in your arms.”

“I wasn’t…” I scrub my face with my hands. “It’s my sketchbook.”

“Can you prove it?”

I think back to my sketches. I never signed or initialed them. Because they weren’t official. I didn’t think they were ever getting off my desk.

“Nothing on paper. But I can walk you through every idea and how I envisioned it…”

She shakes her head, her tone softening. “I’m not bringing this to him. And neither should you. He can survive your accusation. You can’t. You need to leave. Trust me, you don’t want a scene.”

“Dottie, you know I would never—”

“I like you, Rowan. That’s why I’m not making this worse.” She nods her head at the exit. “Go.”

I hesitate, stuck between standing up for my work and knowing that it won’t do me any good. But it will cause pointless headaches for Zach. Because Dottie’s right. Laurent has power and I don’t. And rarely do the powerless get anywhere fighting the powerful with nothing but their word. Even when the word is the truth.

“I like you too, Dottie,” I say, shouldering my bag. “But you should believe me.”

Outside, I suck in a few steadying breaths.

What the hell do I do now?

I’m about to head to my car when a young woman calls out to me.

“Hey, wait!”

Tessa Carlyle, clad in yoga pants and a T-shirt comes chasing after me. “Rowan, right? We met at Jerry Bruckheimer’s pool. Or rather, in his pool.”

“I remember.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. The last time we ran into each other, you were pretty upset.”

I pull my gaze to her. “What? When?”

“Last week. We literally ran into each other.” She frowns at my expression. “We crashed on the sidewalk here. You don’t remember?”

“Oh, right,” I say. “Yeah, I wasn’t having a good day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She brightens with a beguiling smile that is sure to charm audiences all over the world very soon with this movie. “But you must be feeling better now? Working so closely with Laurent on the new designs? I love them so much. So unique from what we’d been put in before. It’s like the entire movie got a makeover.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When we crashed, you dropped a sketchbook and ran off before I could give it back. The designs were just so good, I assumed you were working with Laurent, so I gave it to him.”

“You gave it to him?”

“Yes,” she says slowly. “I told him who you are and what happened. He took it, said thanks, and I didn’t think anything else of it.” She bites her lip. “I thought I was helping. Why do I feel like I did something wrong?”

For half a second, I entertain the idea of calling Tessa as my expert witness to testify how Laurent took the sketches as opposed to me racing out with them like a villain in a movie. But Tessa needs this film. Her big break, she’d called it. Bringing a high-profile accusation could jeopardize that for her. And in the end, it would still be Laurent’s word against ours.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Tessa,” I say. “I have to go.”

---