“Yeah, I know she’s your friend.”
“No...Stacy is also my lover.”
“Lover?” Dash’s eyes widened. “When...when did you turn gay?” he’d asked in total disbelief.
“I’ve always been bisexual, Dash. I...”
He cut her off. “Heather, why are you with me if you’re into women? Has this entire time we’ve been together been a lie?” Dash stood silent for a moment as the news of his girlfriend’s true sexual identity sank in.
Heather stepped closer to Dash, but he moved back. “No, it hasn’t been a lie. I love you, Dash.”
“Apparently you love Stacy, too.”
“The truth of the matter is I want to be in a relationship with both of you. Stacy and I have discussed it, and we want you to join us in a polyamorous relationship.”
“A poly...what?”
“A polyamorous relationship is a committed relationship between multiple people,” she explained.
“Look, Heather, I’m not into threesomes.”
“It’s not a freaky ménage à trois. Our relationship would be exclusive, exactly like a regular relationship, except with three people instead of two. I really think it could work. Whenever the three of us are together we always have so much fun. Remember the time we ordered in pepperoni pizza and watched that sci-fi movie from the eighties? We all laughed so hard at the bad special effects that our sides hurt. Remember?”
“Of course I remember. What does that have to do with anything? Watching a movie together is a far cry from having a relationship.”
“I was just reminding you how well we get along. To warm up to the idea, we could start out slow by going on a date with Stacy,” she had said, trying to sway him.
“I don’t think so. Sorry, but that’s not for me. Heather, you should have told me the truth about your sexuality and let me make the choice whether or not I wanted to be with someone who is bisexual. Instead, you made the choice for me.” Dash was hurt and a bit confused. Heather had never let on that she was also sleeping with a woman. Now it totally made sense why Heather and Stacy had only a one-bedroom apartment. Heather had told Dash that Stacy slept in the living room on the pullout sofa. Looking back now, he realized that was obviously a lie.
Dash didn’t have a problem with homosexuality. As far as he was concerned, whom a person slept with was their business. He just chose to sleep with one woman at a time.
“I’m sorry, Dash, for not telling you sooner.”
“So am I,” he had said with disappointment in his voice.
“Don’t let this interfere with what you and I have. I truly love you, Dash. Although I was hoping the three of us could have a relationship, I’ll be content with just you and I.”
“I don’t think so, Heather. I wouldn’t want you to resent me later. You should be able to have the type of relationship you desire.”
Heather had moved closer to Dash, and this time he didn’t shy away. They hugged for one last time.
“I wish you the best, Heather.”
After Heather’s true confession, he’d cut their vacation short. Dash had planned to take her for a gondola ride in Venice and propose, which of course had never happened. Dash hadn’t spoken to Heather since they’d returned to New York over a year ago.
“Hey, man, you look deep in thought,” Vance said, approaching his friend.
“I was thinking about Heather.”
“Instead of breaking up with her, you should have invited her roommate to join you guys in Italy. Now, that would have been a trip to remember,” Vance said, chuckling.
“I don’t like sharing my woman or my body.” Dash had grown up in a religious family with good moral values, values he’d carried over into adulthood.
“You’re a better man than I am. I for one would have enjoyed both women...together and separately.”
“I’m sure you would have.”
Growing up, Vance had always been more adventurous than Dash. Vance’s parents were extremely liberal and had allowed their children to explore and express their imagination.
As they were talking, the older gentleman and the redhead staggered out of the bar arm in arm. Vance took a seat next to Dash.
“So...congratulations on the new gig.”
“Thanks, but it’s not official yet.”
“I got your message, and I’ll be happy to look over the contract. But why are you going to work for another company when your family has a multimillion-dollar textile business in Italy? You could move there and live a life of luxury. You could have the plant manager do all the heavy lifting, so you could work a few days a week and play the rest of the time.”
“I’m not ready to kick back just yet. Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful for the opportunities my family’s wealth has afforded me. My grandfather started that company with nothing and made it into a thriving business. I want to do the same with my designs. I don’t want to ride on the coattails of my family’s success—I want to make my own mark on the world of fashion.”
Dash was tired of people thinking all he had to offer were his good looks. He was well educated and had a natural gift for designing clothes, jewelry and even handbags.
“That’s admirable of you, man. Most people in your position would relax and enjoy the spoils.”
Dash and Vance had been best friends since high school. They had been the stars of the school’s soccer team and had remained close friends after graduating.
“Excuse me, but those two women at the end of the bar would like to buy you guys a drink,” the bartender said.
Dash peered down the bar and saw two attractive women, both dressed in tight black dresses that exposed way too much cleavage and both wearing heavy makeup. The ladies were exposing nearly all of their teeth and indelicately waving their arms.
“I’ll take a pass,” he said. Dash had spent more than enough time drinking with random women and was ready to find that special someone to settle down with.
“Come on, man. Don’t be a party pooper. They look eager and willing to please,” Vance said as he waved back to the duo.
Dash and Vance had that “wow” effect on women. They were both handsome in their own way. While Dash had olive skin and curly hair, Vance’s complexion was dark, nearly chocolate, and he wore his hair closely shaven. Whenever the two were together, women approached them as if they were rock stars.
“Vance, don’t let me stop you.” Dash went into his bag, took out a folder and handed it to his friend. “Here’s the contract.”
“I’ll look it over first thing in the morning and get back to you.”
“Thanks. I’m going to call it a night.”
“You sure?” Vance stuck the folder in his briefcase and then glanced down the bar at the two women. “They are gorgeous. Come on—just have one drink with us.”
“No, thanks, but knock yourself out. Hey, maybe you’ll have that threesome you’ve always dreamed about,” Dash said, getting up from the bar stool.
“Here’s hoping!” Vance said, making his way toward the women.
As Dash walked down Fifth Avenue on his way home, his mind drifted back to Lark. He had read about her professional life online, but all he had learned about her personal life was that she was single. There hadn’t been any mention of Lark being involved in a relationship—past or present. There hadn’t even been any pictures of her in a social setting. He smiled at the possibility of dating Lark.
Man, keep your mind on business. She’s your new boss, not your new girlfriend.
With that thought in his mind, he shifted focus and began thinking about the new and exciting clothing he was going to design for Randolph on the Runway, whether he was dating his boss or not.
Chapter 4
Dash’s background check had come back clean and Lark was eager
for him to start. Not only to see what designs he was going to come up with for the new collection, but to also get another gander at the strikingly good-looking younger man. Although she had no plans of ever dating her new hire, she saw no harm in letting herself look.
Today was to be Dash’s first day. After her early workout at the gym, Lark had taken a little extra time that morning getting ready. She wore a feminine floral dress with prints of pink and orange blossoms that she’d designed herself. A thin green belt cinched her slim waist and her bob-length hair, left loose, framed her face perfectly. She finished the look with a pair of mint-green, pointy pumps. Lark’s lips were stained with her signature blood-orange glossy lipstick, and she wore a hint of perfume.
Lark was sitting at her drawing table in her large corner office, working on a sketch for the new spring/summer collection. She had come into the office early to get a jump on the designs before her duties as COO took over her day. Lark was busy putting the finishing touches on a drawing when she heard someone knock. She looked up and smiled slightly.
“Good morning. You’re here early,” she said.
“I have some ideas in my head that I want to get down on paper. You’re here early, too. You must have had the same thought,” Dash said from the doorway.
Lark took in his physique as he stood there looking like a modern-day Adonis. He wore a baby-blue skinny-leg suit that fit his body to perfection with a crisp, stark white shirt and a pink tie. His look was professional, with an artsy edge. Lark had always prided herself on her style of dress, but now with Dash on her team, she would have to step up her game.
“Yes. I’ve already started sketching for the new line.”
“Let me see what you’re working on,” he said, walking over to her drawing table.
Dash was standing so close to Lark that she could smell his cologne. She took a soft whiff and inhaled base notes of bergamot, jasmine and vanilla.
He smells good enough to eat, she thought.
“I like the leg of the pant. It fits the ankle nicely. But what about dropping the crotch half an inch? Do you mind?” Dash asked, picking a pencil up from the drawing table.
“Go for it.” Lark moved back so he could have easier access to the sketchbook. As he drew, Lark stared at his strong hands and imagined his long, lean fingers caressing her skin.
Dash made the quick adjustment to the drawing. “What do you think?”
Lark peered down at what he had done and nodded her head. “Wow, moving the crotch down a bit makes a huge difference. Now the pants have more movement.”
“I’m going to like working here. We’re going to make an awesome team,” he said.
Lark looked up into his face and found herself mesmerized by his bright smile. A few seconds passed before she glanced away. Lark was determined to keep her mind on business and not get lost in the younger man’s charm.
“Did you bring the contract?” she asked.
Dash opened his messenger bag and took out a folder. “Here you go, signed and delivered.”
Lark took the folder and placed it on the drawing table. “Did you have an attorney look over the contract so you know what you’re signing up for?” Lark didn’t want a replay of what she had experienced with Sebastian.
“Yes, I did, and he pointed out the proprietary clause.”
“You do understand that everything you design for Randolph on the Runway is the property of the company?”
“Of course.”
“And you don’t have a problem with that?” she asked.
“No, not at all. My creativity is endless, and while I’m here, I plan to give you a hundred and ten percent.”
“Great. That’s what I want to hear. Now let me give you the dime tour and show you to your office.”
Employees had started to arrive and settle in as Lark and Dash made their way across the opposite end of the floor. The loft offices of Randolph on the Runway had been redesigned by Lark, who had worked closely with an architect to create an inviting environment. The former outdated space had been dark and cramped. The renovated offices were now hip and chic, with cream leather seating and sleek teak furniture. There was colorful abstract artwork on the exposed-brick walls. The interior offices, framed in floor-to-ceiling plate glass, were visible from the corridors, giving the entire space an open and airy feel.
“This is our kitchen. The refrigerator is stocked with water, sandwiches, salads and healthy snacks. There’s a single-cup coffee machine, which also makes tea. This drawer,” she said, pulling out a drawer to her left, “is filled with take-out menus from nearby restaurants.”
“That’s good to know. Sometimes when I’m working, I don’t want to interrupt my flow by going out to lunch.”
“I know what you mean. Sometimes when I’m on a roll I can work straight through lunch. Come on—let me show you the rest of the space.”
Lark led the way out of the small kitchen and continued down the hall. She stopped in front of a closed door, opened it, stepped inside and turned on the lights. “This is the showroom.”
“I love the exposed-brick walls and vaulted ceiling.”
“Thank you. I had the entire space redesigned. I wanted a loft-type atmosphere. This is where we keep our collections, meet with buyers and fit models for upcoming shows.”
Dash went over to a rack of clothing and browsed through the items. He pulled out a dress. “This gown reminds me of the dresses they wore in the forties. The rose taffeta material looks authentic. What happened to the seams?” he asked, holding the ripped gown.
“It’s a long story that I’d rather not retell. But I’m glad you like the dress. It’s one of my designs.” Lark was pleased that Dash had commented on the gown. She knew her instincts about the dress had been right all along and it felt good to be validated by the young designer.
“You’re quite talented.”
Lark felt herself blushing as if she were the new hire and he were her boss. “Thank you. Let me show you to your office before my morning meeting.” She turned off the lights and walked out with Dash following closely behind.
“This is your office,” Lark said, entering a well-appointed room. The space was almost identical to Lark’s, but smaller, with a teak desk, drawing table and sitting area. “The junior designers who’ll be working under your supervision sit out here,” she said, stepping back through the doorway and gesturing toward four cubicles.
As she was talking, a short, shapely brunette dressed in cargo pants and a T-shirt and wearing shades approached them. “Good morning, Ms. Randolph.”
“Hi, Jessica. Let me introduce you to Dash Migilio, our new lead designer. You’ll be reporting directly to him as stated in the email that Angelica sent out.”
Jessica lifted her sunglasses and stared at Dash. “I’m really going to love coming to work now,” she mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Lark asked.
“Oh, nothing.” Jessica moved closer to Dash and extended her hand. “So very nice to meet you, Dash. Or should I call you Mr. Migilio?” she said, batting her eyes.
“Nice to meet you, too, Jessica. Dash is fine.”
“You sure are,” Jessica said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Lark gave Jessica a disapproving look. “Jessica, if you’re going to have a problem working with the new lead designer, I’ll be happy to move you over to Aisha’s team,” Lark said sternly.
“No need, Ms. Randolph. I won’t have a problem working with Mr. Migilio,” Jessica said, changing her tune.
“Jessica, when you get a chance, let me see what you’ve been working on,” Dash said.
“Sure,” Jessica responded. She made her way to her cubicle, but not before turning around and giving Dash another appraising once-over.
Jessica’s lustful glance didn’t go unnoticed by Lark. She was goi
ng to admonish the young designer, but Lark really couldn’t blame Jessica for staring at Dash. He was without a doubt worthy of a second and even a third look.
Once Jessica was out of earshot, Lark turned to Dash and said, “I like the way you handled that.”
“What?” he asked.
“The way you ignored Jessica’s not-so-subtle innuendos. You acted as if she weren’t drooling all over you.”
“Lark, I’m a professional. I don’t mix business with pleasure. My personal life is just that...personal.”
“Good to hear, because I think she’s developing a crush on you. I can move her over to the other team if need be.”
“Trust me. I can handle Jessica and any other employee who tries to make an inappropriate advance.”
Does that include me? Lark wanted to say, but of course she didn’t. She knew she had to stop thinking of Dash in a lustful way. He had been hired to do a job, and unfortunately, that job didn’t include seducing the boss.
Chapter 5
Lark was meeting her best friend, Darcy McCay, at a day spa in Union Square for an afternoon of relaxation and pampering. Lark and Darcy’s relationship had started off a bit rough when they’d first met at Randolph on the Runway. Lark had moved up from the drafting department, where she had worked for six months learning the art of pattern design. Lark’s grandfather felt she had spent enough time in that part of the company and had promoted her to the ready-to-wear division to study under Darcy, a senior designer. Darcy was a few years older than Lark and was eager to teach the ingenue, but Lark proved to be quite a challenge. Instead of soaking up the information Darcy was dispensing, Lark had her own opinions about how the line should be designed.
“Instead of putting the split in the back, why don’t we place it off center?” Lark had said.
“No, I like the split right where it is,” Darcy had replied.
“Most designers place the split in the back. Don’t you want to stand out?”
Darcy had looked up from her sketchbook. “Excuse me?”
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