Page 34 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
He chuckles lightly. His eyes linger on me for a second, long enough to mess up my heartbeat again.
“How’s work, Vivian? Are you learning anything useful?”
“Yes, I’ve learned a lot. Thanks again for the opportunity.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says. “I’m training you, so you’ll work for me one day, remember?”
He sounds as if it’s a selfish act, but I know it isn’t. It’s another golden opportunity. “I do, but I still appreciate it,” I say.
“Good,” he says, standing up. “Karl says you’re doing an excellent job. You are well trained in identifying trends and designing, but you’ll need some other experiences as well, such as sourcing. It’s why I’m going to take you to a Fabric Show.”
I take a moment to register the sudden information. “Really? Thank you. When would that be?”
“Now. It’s a two-day conference and it started this morning. We’ll spend an afternoon at Metropolitan Pavilion.”
“Great!” I can hardly stifle my grin. “Let me go tell Karl. I’ll be right back.”
He stops me. “There’s no need. I’ll call and let him know, but we aren’t returning for the day, so you might want to get your purse. Meet me at the lobby.”
“Sure,” I say.
“Do you always do the sourcing yourself?” I ask Alex when we’re in the back of his Audi. “Isn’t it a sourcing manager’s job?”
“You’re right. I used to go to those shows with the sourcing manager during the days when Trend was still establishing itself. But I haven’t been to one for years. In fact, we don’t go to fabric shows anymore. We have contracts with the manufacturers, and their representatives come to our company every season to present their samples.”
“Then why do you want to go to one all of a sudden?” I ask, refusing to believe that he’s doing it for my benefit. “Do you miss them?”
He chuckles. “Well, I didn’t enjoy every moment of the shows, and I disliked the dust and the crowds. But I like to keep my eyes open for new materials, and it’s a great place to discover great deals.”
I’m a bit disappointed that he isn’t as excited as I am about seeing the fabric displays, but then I don’t blame him. His purpose is more business-oriented, while mine is more artistic.
“What do you normally do at Trend?” I ask curiously.
“I browse the Internet, check my social media accounts, and sleep,” he says in a deadpan manner that tells me he’s joking.
“That sounds boring,” I play along.
He chuckles. “Exactly. No, my work is much more exciting than that. This morning I had three meetings, one with the board, another one with shareholders, and then a video conference with the fashion show director.”
I’m reminded of Fashion Week. “Too bad I can’t attend it. I’ll be in Paris,” I say.
“You can watch videos later. Are you going to any show in Paris?”
“I wish I could, but no way I’ll get invited.”
“I can help you with that,” he says.
I squeal. “Really?”
He nods. “Which shows would you like to go to? Let me know.”
I consider for a moment. “I don’t know! Anyone would be great. Dior, Prada, Chanel, Fendi, Gucci, Louis Vuitton…”
“Which one do you want the most?”
“Dior,” I say without hesitation. I’ve always admired Maria Grazia Chiuri.
“Okay,” he says with a nod as if it’ll be a piece of cake.
