Chapter 7

The moment she turned off the TV, Gie couldn't sit still.

She grabbed her sketchpad, sat at her workstation, and immediately began drawing.

The ideas came fast and frenzied—bold lines, intricate details, potential gemstones that could accentuate power without arrogance. Something for his wrist this time? A custom cufflink? A chain that could rest just under the collar of his perfectly tailored suits?

But as she sketched, her hand hesitated.

Something was off.

The design was beautiful—of course, it was. Her instincts were too precise, her craftsmanship too refined for anything she put on paper to be anything less than stunning.

And yet…

It wasn't right.

Over the next several weeks, she kept coming back to it.

She would spend hours sketching, refining, only to crumple the page and toss it onto the growing pile of discarded designs. Something was missing.

She just didn't know what.

A Sister Who Knows Too Much

Alina, of course, noticed.

How could she not?

The overflowing trash bin, the endless torn sketches, the way Gie's usually precise movements had become agitated, restless.

One evening, as Gie sat at her workstation, head in her hands, glaring at another failed design, Alina leaned against the doorway with a smirk.

"So," she drawled, "are we finally admitting that Alexander Millers has broken you?"

Gie groaned. "Not this again."

Alina crossed her arms. "Oh, babe. Look at yourself. You're a mess. When was the last time you finished a design without wanting to set it on fire?"

Gie exhaled sharply. "It's just… not working."

"Maybe you need inspiration."

Gie rubbed her temples. "That's what I've been trying to do, Alina."

Alina grinned. "I meant real-world inspiration."

Gie's eyes narrowed. "No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"You were going to suggest going out again."

Alina's smirk widened. "Damn right, I was."

"Not happening."

Alina groaned. "Come on, Gie. You're spiraling, and you know it. You need to breathe a little. Step outside your cave. Get some fresh air—preferably in a high-end restaurant with expensive wine and gorgeous men."

"I don't need gorgeous men," Gie muttered.

"Liar. You literally can't stop making jewelry for one."

Gie shot her a glare. "I swear to God—"

"Listen," Alina cut in, stepping closer, her tone softer now. "Just one night. One dinner. No pressure. No obligations. Just you, me, and a little bit of civilization."

Gie hesitated.

For weeks, she had been locked away, drowning in designs she couldn't finish, chasing inspiration that refused to take shape.

Maybe… maybe Alina was right.

Maybe she needed this.

With a sigh, she muttered, "Fine. But you're paying again."

Alina grinned. "Worth it."

The restaurant was opulent, the kind of place where the wine was older than their parents and the food came in delicate, artful portions.

Gie felt lighter than she had in weeks, letting the warmth of the ambiance settle into her bones as she and Alina sipped their drinks.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't thinking about failed designs.

She wasn't thinking about him.

Until she saw him.

Seated near the back, effortlessly commanding the space, surrounded by business associates and a few stunning women, was Alexander Millers.

Her stomach tightened.

It was ridiculous. She had no reason to feel this way. And yet, her body betrayed her—heat creeping up her neck, a shiver down her spine.

As if he could sense her, he glanced up.

Gie felt like she was melting with every step she took.

The room was warm, the ambient light soft, the hum of conversation blending with the gentle clink of silverware against fine china. And yet, none of it mattered. Not the food, not the music, not even the ridiculous price of the wine swirling in her glass.

Because he was here.

Alexander Millers.

Seated in his world of power and pleasure, surrounded by men who controlled obscene amounts of wealth and women who draped themselves over it.

He looked exactly as he always did—impossibly composed, impossibly expensive, impossibly untouchable.

The jewelry she had made for him sat proudly on his lapel, catching the light with every shift of his movements. It looked so damn good on him that Gie had to look away, pressing her lips together to stop the ridiculous heat from climbing up her throat.

Her sister, of course, noticed.

And she had no mercy.

"You should go talk to him," Alina whispered, taking a sip of her drink.

Gie nearly choked on air. "What? No."

"Yes."

"No."

Alina sighed, exasperated. "Gie, you made that piece for him. It's literally on his body right now. You can go ask him how he feels about it."

Gie's grip on her wine glass tightened. "He doesn't even know me personally."

"Even better," Alina grinned. "You can introduce yourself. Something like, 'Hey, Mr. Inhumanly Hot Billionaire, I've been sketching you in my dreams—oh wait, I mean designing jewelry for you.'"

Gie glared. "I hate you."

Alina cackled. "You love me. And I love that you're squirming over a man for once. It's so fun to watch."

Gie groaned, glancing at Alexander again. He was talking to one of the men at his table, his voice low, sharp, the picture of a man who was never rushed, never uncertain.

The more she looked, the more the design in her head frustrated her.

It still wasn't right.

And Alina was right too, damn it.

Maybe if she got closer, looked at him up close, she would know what was missing.

She swallowed hard. "I… I can't just walk up to him."

Alina tilted her head. "Why not? You're literally the most exclusive jeweler in the country. If anything, he should be honored."

Gie's heart pounded. "What would I even say?"

Alina shrugged. "Start with the jewelry. The rest will happen naturally."

That was the problem.

Nothing about Alexander Millers felt natural.

Everything about him felt like a trap, a temptation, a warning wrapped in wealth and sin.

And yet…

When dinner ended, as they stepped away from their table and made their way toward the exit, something inside her snapped.

Her feet moved before her mind could stop them.

Alina said something—maybe a final tease, maybe an encouragement—but Gie didn't hear it.

Because she was walking toward him.

Toward Alexander.

Knees weak. Hands clammy.

Like a woman in love.

Like a woman in trouble.

And so, so red.