Page 37 of Sexting the Billionaire

"The industry needs more voices willing to challenge conventions rather than simply repackaging them with new price tags."

Coming from Vivienne Larson, this is the equivalent of a standing ovation.

"Thank you. That means a great deal, especially from someone with your influence."

"Roman speaks highly of you," she continues, watching my reaction carefully. "He rarely takes such an interest in new creative directors."

There's a question hidden in her statement, one I'm not prepared to answer. "Lumière is a priority for Elysian," I say, echoing Roman's own words. "It's the foundation upon which the entire luxury portfolio was built."

"Indeed." Vivienne sips her champagne, her expression giving nothing away. "And what foundation are you building it on now?"

For the next fifteen minutes, I find myself engaged in the most important impromptu business conversation of my career, outlining my vision for authentic luxury that celebrates imperfection and individuality rather than conformity to arbitrary standards.

Vivienne listens intently, asking pointed questions that reveal both her deep industry knowledge and her skepticism of empty marketing speak. By the time we're interrupted by another industry executive wanting her attention, I feel like I've passed some kind of test.

"We should continue this conversation soon," Vivienne says as she prepares to move on. "Perhaps over lunch next week? My office will contact yours."

"I'd be honored," I say, meaning it completely.

She leans in slightly, lowering her voice. "And Cassandra? Whatever’s happening between you and Roman... be careful. This industry thrives on scandal but rarely forgives those caught in its spotlight."

I blink in surprise, unprepared for the sudden shift in conversation. "I'm not sure what you mean," I begin, but Vivienne cuts me off with a knowing look.

"Of course you don't," she says with the faintest smile. "Just something to consider. Until next week."

She glides away, leaving me standing there with a half-empty champagne glass and a growing sense of unease. Am I that transparent? Or is Roman? Or is Vivienne Larson simply as omniscient as industry rumors suggest?

Before I can puzzle it out, I'm approached by more industry figures eager to meet Lumière's new creative director. The next hour passes in a blur of introductions, business card exchanges, and carefully calibrated conversations that never reveal too much but suggest exciting possibilities.

I've just excused myself to find the restroom when a hand catches my elbow, pulling me gently but firmly into a side corridor away from the main event.

"You've been avoiding me," Roman says, his voice low and slightly accusatory.

"I've been networking," I correct him, acutely aware of his hand still on my arm and the relative privacy of our current location. "It is a business event, after all."

"You've spoken to everyone except me," he counters. "Including Vivienne Larson, which is impressive. She usually avoids these events like the plague."

"We had an interesting conversation about authentic luxury," I say, not mentioning Vivienne's parting warning. "She's invited me to lunch next week."

"A rare honor," Roman acknowledges. "She must see something special in you."

"Or she's gathering ammunition," I suggest, only half joking. "The fashion industry runs on gossip and takedowns as much as creativity."

Roman's expression darkens slightly. "Has someone said something to you? About us?"

The fact that there's an "us" to comment on hangs in the air between us, unacknowledged yet undeniable.

"No," I say carefully. "But people notice things. Patterns. Interest. Special treatment."

"Is that what you think this is?" Roman asks, his voice taking on an edge I've never heard before. "Special treatment?"

"Isn't it?" I challenge, emboldened by champagne and the private setting. "You don't personally mentor other creative directors. You don't text them after hours. You certainly don't almost kiss them in elevators."

The last part slips out before I can censor myself. We've never actually acknowledged what almost happened that day, maintaining the fiction that it was just another moment of tension rather than a line nearly crossed.

Roman's eyes darken, his posture shifting subtly as he moves closer.

"Is that what you think almost happened? A kiss?"

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