Page 50 of The Billionaire's Ride

“I would love to, but I don’t know if I can. I’m trying to construct all new pieces for the fashion show this week,” I say. It’s serendipitous to run into her here, but we can always meet when I’m back home.

“Seriously. That’s so badass,” Liz says. “But that’s too bad for me. I’ve been so bored in the evenings. My fiancé wanted to stay home.”

“You can come by the studio later if you want. Maybe you can help. You still sew?”

“Not like I used to, but I’m confident I still got it. Just tell me when and where,” Liz says, then surveys my outfit. “And speaking of sewing, I’m loving this look. Are you here to impress someone?”

“Yes, I am. A Venture Capitalist,” I say.

“Me too. Who are you meeting with? I’m working with Jacqueline Parker.”

“I’m meeting?—”

“Kate Golden,” someone calls my name. This time, it’s an unfamiliar voice.

I turn to the woman and smile. “Yes, that’s me.”

“We’re ready for you. Follow me.”

I turn back to Beau and Liz. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. You’re fabulous,” Liz says.

I thank them both and follow the woman to the elevator, reminding myself to breathe on the way up the tower. Why am I so nervous? I know the whole finance game. My dad’s a money guy. I’ve got a great brand. Nina Savoy sees it. It just needs a little something extra.

Finally, I come face-to-face with the man who holds my lingerie’s future in his hands. The smell of aftershave wafts from his tanned face. Dressed in a tightly tailored cobalt-blue suit with a matching vest, he offers his hand. “You must be Kate Golden.”

“Yes, and you must be Collin Evans.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

KATE

The elevator doorsopen to the lobby, and I strut out with my head held high. Beau’s waiting with a cup of tea, and Liz hasn’t left her side. The two seem lost in conversation until my footsteps draw closer.

Beau looks up. “How did it go?”

Grinning, I say, “It went great!”

She hops to her feet. “So you got the deal?”

“Not yet, but the VC is coming to the show on Friday.”

“Congratulations,” Liz says.

“Now, I just need to get those pieces done so he’ll say yes,” I say, pulling out my silenced phone. There are no missed calls but a handful of texts. I scroll, looking for something from Drew. Nothing. Then, I see the words lace maker from another fashion biz friend. I gasp.

“What?” Beau asks.

“I have a lace maker. We need to get to Notting Hill.”

Beau snaps her fingers. “Then let’s go. Liz, you’re coming to.”

Liz shrugs, holding onto her leather briefcase. “Okay.”

The three of us take a taxi across town. There isn’t enough room for all of us in the back, so Liz sits up front.

“It’s going to take us forty minutes to go six miles,” Liz says.

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