Page 90 of Sexted By a Stranger
Daniel and Ana, two artisans from White Jewels, and I were still refining details of the Legacy series. The dull ache in my lower back forced me to constantly adjust my position.
Spread across the desk was the seventeenth draft of the "Tempus Undae" necklace sketch. The flowing metal lines and main stone setting points still hadn't achieved the perfection I envisioned.
"Daniel," I rubbed my throbbing temples, "the sense of movement here still isn't enough. I need it to look more like a water droplet about to fall, not a frozen arc. Can you think of another approach?"
He leaned closer to the magnifying glass, his brow knitting into a tight knot.
"Damn, Sheila, these requirements are nearly impossible. One wrong move and it'll either snap or spring back too much." He looked up, dark circles clear under his eyes. "The prongs around the main stone have to balance this flowing sensation with stability, but the space is so small—there's virtually no margin for error."
Ana sighed too. "Sheila, the color changes in Paraiba are so subtle. To ensure it still perfectly displays that neon glow under flowing metal lines, I've tried dozens of prong angles, but something's always missing."
Exhaustion mixed with anxiety washed over me, my body's weight reminding me I was nearing my limits.
I forced myself to stay calm. "I know it's difficult, but Jacob doesn't want 'fine'—he wants 'stunning.' He wants the metal to truly come alive and tell a story." I picked up my pencil, attempting to sketch another solution on the blueprint.
"Sheila, let's continue tomorrow." Ana looked worriedly at my hand constantly rubbing my lower back. "You need rest right now, not a wrestling match with metal."
My body's discomfort left me unable to argue.
"Alright, everyone, get some rest. We'll continue tomorrow."
Day after day of research and collaboration finally paid off—the Legacy series achieved a key breakthrough, and Jacob gave the preliminary models high praise.
At the same time, the dream I'd been nurturing—establishing my personal brand studio "Starlight"—became increasingly clear.
One ordinary morning, Luca led me down a quiet street I'd never explored before.
At the lane's end, the view opened to reveal a serene courtyard. Red brick walls spoke of history while enormousfloor-to-ceiling windows and intricate metal structures injected modern flair.
At the courtyard's center stood a building constructed almost entirely of glass, its elegant curved glass dome gleaming in the morning light.
"Welcome to Starlight."
Before I could recover from my shock, Luca was already leading me into the glasshouse.
Before me stretched an incredibly spacious workspace, fully equipped. There was even a reading and meditation corner with thick carpeting, beside which colorful fish swam leisurely in a transparent aquarium.
Just then, a heavy oak door opened and George's familiar figure emerged, his face bright with excitement.
"Sheila. Mr. Bellomo." George approached us. "All the basic tools are in place—just waiting for you to bring this place to life."
"George. You all…" I was thrilled and surprised, never expecting Luca to have arranged the entire team.
Looking at George and his team, I knew "Starlight" was no longer just a blueprint.
Luca had given me the wings of my dreams.
With Starlight's support, the Legacy series progressed steadily toward its global launch.
The cover of Vogue's jewelry special issue featured none other than "Tempus Undae."
On publication day, White Jewels' consultation lines were flooded with calls. "Tempus Undae" and several pieces from the same series sold for jaw-dropping prices at Sotheby's charity auction.
The massive success of the Legacy series completely illuminated "Starlight's" path forward. We became extraordinarily busy.
Meanwhile, the little one in my belly grew increasingly active. Luca had practically become my "rest supervisor," and as my due date approached, he no longer allowed me to go to "Starlight"—I had to work from the estate's studio instead.
"This line is still wrong…" I muttered to myself, leaning against cushions. My swollen belly made sitting awkward, and the little one seemed to sense my frustration, giving a gentle kick.
