Her Rebirth.-Chapter 52

Ray looked a bit excited at the golden invitation card in his hands. After practically stalking Amelia for weeks, he, for one, knew that she was living in a small, rickety house with Kai... He was so going to get her out. He also knew that she was working at Liavenne and was co-designers with Damien. Fashion Week had begun, and Liavenne was going to open the week, specifically, Damien and Amelia’s designs, so it was only right that he attended and supported her in the little way he could. Because of that, he had pulled strings to receive the invitation card.

"This way, Mr. Cosgrove," an usher directed Ray to his seat.

He was placed to sit beside a lady with a brown bob haircut and hazel eyes. Her legs were crossed, and an irritated look was on her face. He clearly heard her mutter bitterly,

"That bitch didn’t even bother to invite me. I pray her designs suck."

Ray couldn’t help but turn to her, wondering who had managed to garner her anger. He immediately recognized her, Sera Langford, the princess of the Langford family. According to his research, she and Amelia were enemies. So immediately, he became hostile toward her.

Sera must have felt his gaze because she turned, pushing down her golden-rimmed shades slightly to glance at him with irritation.

"What the hell are you looking at, brat?" she snapped.

He had already disliked her because of Amelia, but now?

Now, it was personal.

"You—" he started, but before he could even get a full sentence out, a confident voice rang through the venue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, fashion lovers, and visionaries, welcome to this year’s highly anticipated showcase, where creativity meets the brilliance of the sun, welcome to Season of the Sun.

Fashion has always been a reflection of our world..."

The welcome speech had begun, and Ray felt it was inappropriate to start an argument when the show had already begun, so he swallowed back his anger. He was just going to pay attention to the pieces and applaud his sister when she came up.

He couldn’t let anything ruin his day.

After a long, heartfelt speech, the welcome address soon came to a close.

As the lights dimmed slightly, an orchestral melody filled the hall.

The first model walked onto the runway, the soft notes of Ola Gjeilo’s Sunrise Mass playing in the background.

Soon, the pieces by Liavenne were coming to an end, and their last design showcased a golden form-fitting silhouette with an off-the-shoulder neckline that gracefully draped over the model’s arms. The bodice was structured, emphasizing the model’s figure, while the gown flowed down to the floor with a long, dramatic train. The dress had several beadings and embroidery on the shoulders. On the head of the model was a floral golden crown.

Once the model stepped onto the stage, all eyes were on her, drawing small gasps.

Anne Willow, a legendary icon in the fashion industry, one known to never give praise lightly, shook her head in approval.

Ray smirked.

That’s right.

Let them all see just how brilliant Amelia was.

The model took her final pose before stepping off stage, and then Damien walked onto the runway, hand in hand with Amelia.

The room erupted in applause.

"Beautiful!"

"Magnificent!"

"Iconic!"

Even Anne Willow stood, clapping softly.

Ray’s chest swelled with pride. Beside him, Sera clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"I guess she has some talent after all."

Ray raised his chin, a smug smile on his lips.

Take that, you hater!

Meanwhile, on stage, Damien leaned in, whispering in Amelia’s ear.

"We do make a great team after all," he muttered.

Amelia turned to him with a bright smile. She was really happy.

"Yes, we do."

—

Kai Blackwood sat in the backseat of his black Rolls-Royce as it drove through the streets. Between his fingers was a cigarette. He hadn’t lit it. He had wanted to, but he remembered how, though Amelia never really said anything, her nose always scrunched up anytime he smoked.

He was currently on his way to the fashion show, and he was eventually going to see her, so since she didn’t like the smell... it was better he avoided it.

This was her big moment, after all.

He had ensured everything would be perfect, from the journalists to buying top spots on the internet to promote her. He was going to ensure Amelia’s designs would dominate every headline tomorrow.

As the car rounded a corner, a splash of color caught his eye. It was a florist shop.

"Stop the car," he said suddenly.

The driver hesitated. "Sir, the traffic—"

"Now."

The car pulled to the curb. Kai stepped out, walking into the shop. The bell above the florist’s door jingled as he entered, the scent of lilies and gardenias wrapping around him. A young woman behind the counter looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

A rich, handsome customer!

"I need roses," he said. "Ninety-nine."

The florist blinked. "Ninety-nine? Any... particular reason?"

"Does it matter?"

He had never given flowers to any woman except his dead mother before. This was because he had never been in a relationship only, at most, little flings or one-night stands.

"Well, some people prefer odd numbers for symbolism. Ninety-nine could mean ’I’ll love you until the end,’ or..." She trailed off under his confused stare. "Red roses, then?"

"Yes."

She busied herself gathering stems. Kai watched impatiently until she tied the final ribbon, blood-red blooms spilling from black paper.

Kai glanced at his reflection in the shop’s window. The gesture was supposed to make her happy, he had read somewhere that ninety-nine roses symbolized eternal love.

The thought was almost laughable.

Would Amelia smile at the sight of them? Would she look at him differently, even for a moment? Or would she merely glance at them and say nothing at all?

Back in the car, he stared at the roses, cursing himself.

Stupid.

Amelia was probably going to mock him. He had been the one to show his displeasure toward the engagement in the first place.

Yet...

He pictured her the way she had taken care of him, when they had kissed, his blood smudged on her cheek. At that moment, he had barely restrained himself from confessing because he was scared she would leave or reject him. And even after that, Amelia had begun to avoid him.

The driver cleared his throat. "Sir, the show—"

"Go."

He exhaled, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of his cufflinks.

It didn’t matter. As long as she had eyes for no one else, it didn’t matter.

He would slowly get her heart.