Page 67 of The Innovator

“House of LaRue is having financial issues,” I began. “There’s a board meeting in a few months. The members will vote to sell the company to the Fontaine and Chalamet Group. They know nothing about fashion. I’m scared they’ll dissolve all the hard work my parents and grandparents have put into the label.” I blew out a breath, looking out at the sturdy trees against the gray sky, wondering how they stood against inclement weather. They survived, and so would I. But right now, I felt a bit lost.

“What caused the financial trouble in the first place?” he asked, his eyes steady and calm on me.

I shrugged. “Some poor investments. I’m not really sure. My focus was always on design. I didn’t have time to ask my dad. He passed away over a year ago.” I told him about Aunt Estelle and how she was the CFO who didn’t get along with my mom and me. Before I knew it, he knew why I was here and more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overload you with my family drama.”

He reached across the table for my hand. “Don’t ever apologize for telling me what troubles you. I want to know. You’re my girlfriend. Don’t forget that.”

It felt surreal to have him address me that way. So much had changed in only a few days, and it scared me. Despite that, being with him made me feel safe and grounded, which was what I needed.

“My dad bought The Prism for me, but I don’t know why. I can’t find anything on the property.” I looked at him. “That’s why it can’t be part of Three Point Park. I don’t know what my dad’s intention is for the building, and I need to find out.”

“I’ll help you.”

Three unexpected words dropped into my heart like coins into a wishing pond. Warmth rippled out of my heart to everywhere in my body.

I flicked a gaze at him. “You don’t have to. It’s my problem, and you already have a full plate.”

“But I want to. I’m good at delegating, and I can free up time to help the woman who tells me sexy bedtime stories.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is that what I’ve become? Just a woman who tells you bedtime stories?”

“You’re very talented, and you’ve incorporated that talent into wonderful storytelling. I love the sexy plot twists you do with your mouth, buttercup.”

“Shut up.” Grinning with embarrassment, I broke off a piece of my muffin and whipped it at him.

Laughing, he dodged the attack, and a bird flew in and snatched the crumb away. Thunder boomed, and the sky darkened quickly.

“Let’s go back inside. It’s going to storm.” He got up and extended a hand to me.

I placed mine in his, and the gesture illustrated something I didn’t see until now—I wasn’t alone anymore.

“What did the weather forecast say?” I glanced out the windows where the angry wind and rain had already begun to pound the trees.

“Thunderstorm with powerful winds.”

Like life, Mother Nature brought on unexpected things, and all you could do was make the best of it.

After sharing my problems with Grayson, I felt the heavy load lift from my shoulders as though he’d taken half or even all of it. I had a few more days left at this retreat, and I wanted to enjoy them with him. I never expected to start an actual relationship with Grayson, but now I loved being his girlfriend.

I’d still need to go back to Paris, but maybe we could have a long-distance relationship . . . I didn’t want to think about that now.

Lounging on the couch with him, I grabbed an architectural magazine and flipped through it. “You know things about me. Now, I have questions for you.”

“Ask away.” He draped an arm around me as I looked at interesting buildings around the world. “I know each designer has their signature style. What’s yours? You have an eclectic style, but that could’ve been influenced by what your clients wanted. Is there something about your buildings that makes themyours? Like if you could design something with no restrictions, what would be your signature?”

He smiled. “Frank Lloyd Wright loved the fireplace. It was the center of the home. He had one in every building he designed. Sometimes he had a fireplace in every room.” His eyes looked into me—into places I didn’t even know. My stomach quivered from the intense gaze.

“Everyone loves a fireplace. It brings people together,” I said.

Nodding, he continued, “Windows are my thing. I love them. They let in the light. Metaphorically, they allow me or the person in the building a peek at the outside world. In doing so, the outside world has a view into me—into the building. The more windows, the better. I like innovative designs where I can incorporate high-tech materials that haven’t been used yet. I’m working with an MIT professor on a product that’s similar to plastic, but it’s organic and flexible. It’s a fusion of materials from Earth and products manipulated by machine to replace glass and plastic. It’s still in the works, but this is the direction of the world. We have to think outside the box to help the Earth.”

I stared at him, absorbing the passion in his eyes, in his hand gestures, and his excited voice. I was thrilled for him. He had so much depth—a master who understood his mastery. And he had every right to be confident and arrogant about his work.

I asked more questions that turned the conversation to his WaterFyre Rising video game. “What inspired you to start the game?”

“We all have something we’re passionate about. For my friends and I, WaterFyre Rising gave us a way to create our own reality. That was our escape. Water and fire are opposite elements, but when you find the perfect chemistry between them, magic occurs. The ‘waterfyre’ is the life force in the game. With each new level, you gain new versions of waterfyre, giving you more power and opportunities.”

I felt the love and the dedication vibrate from him.

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