Chapter 6

The piece was perfect and she couldn't take her eyes off it.

Months of work. Hours of obsession. Countless nights refining every single detail until there was nothing left to improve.

Gie had never taken so long on a piece that wasn't commissioned. But this one was different.

This one had never been meant for a client.

And yet, when she finally held it in her hands, when she ran her fingers over the cool metal, the way the red veins pulsed like molten fire against the gunmetal sheen…

There was only one person in the world who could wear it.

She showed it to Alina. Her sister took one look at it, then at her, and smirked.

"You're so gone for this man."

Gie groaned. "It's not like that."

Alina rolled her eyes. "Sure. You've spent months designing a custom, one-of-a-kind piece for him. For free. Just admit it—he's your muse."

Gie crossed her arms. "He's my client."

"Exactly! That's why you should send it."

Gie blinked. "What?"

Alina shrugged. "You do this for other clients. You send thank-you gifts to high-profile buyers all the time. Just send it to him as a thank you for his patronage or whatever."

Gie hesitated.

She had done this before—small, custom tokens sent to select clients who had supported her work over the years. It was a courtesy. A sign of appreciation but this was different.

"Absolutely not," she muttered, turning away.

Alina laughed. "You're so full of it. You want him to wear it. You want to see it on him."

Gie refused to answer.

But the thought stuck.

For the next two weeks, she couldn't get it out of her head.

Would he even accept it? Would he think it was strange? Would he assume she was after something?

She told herself it didn't matter.

And yet, one evening, before she could talk herself out of it, she sat at her desk, pulled up her email, and began typing.

To: Alexander Millers

Subject: A Thank You Gift

Alexander,

I wanted to send you a small token of appreciation for being one of my long-time clients. This piece is not a commission but something I designed and thought might suit you. There are no obligations, of course—if it doesn't align with your style, feel free to do as you wish with it.

Thank you for your continued patronage.

Gie

She stared at the email.

Read it ten times over. Debating whether to send it or not. 

Her fingers hovered over the send button.

Then, before she could overthink it any further, she clicked it and immediately shut her laptop like it was going to explode.

The studio felt too small all of a sudden. Too stifling.

She needed air so she grabbed her coat and left.

Alone, for once. No Alina dragging her. No social obligations. Just herself and the world outside.

She walked through the city, feeling unburdened for the first time in weeks. The crisp evening air, the soft glow of streetlights, the quiet hum of life moving around her—it was freeing.

For years, her inspiration had come from within—from the weight of metal in her hands, the shine of a gemstone under her lamp. But now, as she took in the shifting colors of the skyline, the blurred figures of people passing by, the way the lights reflected off wet pavement, she felt something new.

This world had art in it, too.

Maybe she had just been too locked away to see it.

By the time she returned home, the email had been sent.

The decision was made.

There was no taking it back now.

After how many days, Gie wasn't expecting anything.

Not a response. Not an acknowledgment. Nothing.

She had told herself she sent the jewelry because it was the polite thing to do. A thank-you gift for a long-time client. Nothing personal. Nothing deep.

And yet, when Alina turned on the TV one evening, flipping to a business segment, Gie's heart nearly stopped.

Because there he was.

Alexander Millers.

Seated in a sleek, black leather chair, looking effortlessly powerful as he spoke about one of his new business expansions.

And on the lapel of his jacket—

Her piece.

Her jewelry.

Gie's breath hitched.

It was surreal, seeing it there, perfectly in place like it had always belonged to him.

She had imagined it, of course—how it would look, how it would sit against his suit, how the veins of red would gleam under the lights.

But this?

This was real.

A strange warmth spread through her chest, deep and intoxicating, twisting through her stomach like a fire she didn't understand.

And then—to make it worse—

Alina noticed.

"HOLY SHIT," her sister gasped, nearly dropping her wine glass. "HE'S WEARING IT!"

Gie swallowed, trying to keep her expression neutral. "So?"

Alina turned to her with wide eyes and then—

A slow, evil smirk.

"Oh my God. Look at you!" Alina giggled, poking her in the side. "You're blushing so hard right now."

"I am not," Gie muttered, shifting in her seat.

But her sister wasn't letting this go.

She leaned in, grinning. "Oh, babe, you look like you're about to combust."

Gie hated that she was right. She can feel her face heating. She must look like a tomato right now for no reason at all except that she's looking at him.

The longer she looked at him—the longer she watched the way he moved, the way he existed in her work—the worse she felt.

Her pulse was too fast.

Her skin was too hot.

And worst of all—her thoughts?

They were not appropriate.

Not for a client. Not for anyone.

Not for him.

Alina, naturally, was having the time of her life.

"You're so gone for this man," she teased. "Like, look at you. If you stare at him any harder, he might melt."

Gie grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

"I am NOT."

Alina cackled. "Then why are you running?"

"I'm not running," Gie huffed, standing up abruptly. "I'm working."

"Working on what?" Alina smirked, already knowing.

Gie didn't answer.

She just stormed off to her workstation, ignoring the way her heart pounded, ignoring the way her mind was already racing with ideas.

Because now, there was only one thing on her mind.

What jewelry can I make him next?