‘Your fashion design business, of course,’ he said.
‘But I don’t have a fashion design business.’
‘This is exactly the point. You don’t have one, but you should.’ His gaze slid over the short dress she had put on, ready to return to London on the next plane. He touched the flounced neckline. ‘This is one of your designs, is it not?’
She nodded, brutally aware of the approval in his eyes.
‘You are extremely talented. Even I can see this and I know nothing about fashion. Megan De Rossi does and she agrees with me. She asked where your designs were retailing yesterday at the gallery, is this not so?’
‘That was just a casual comment,’ she said. ‘She was being kind and friendly.’
‘No, she wasn’t, because I phoned her an hour ago and asked her if she would be willing to throw her support behind your brand.’
‘You did...what?’ Ally jumped off the stool. ‘Dominic, how could you?’ She covered her face with her hands, wishing the beautiful concrete floor of his apartment would crack open and swallow her whole.
His fingers curled around her wrists and he drew her hands away from her face. He peered at her, the smile so confident now it was verging on smug. ‘Don’t you want to hear what she said?’
‘No! I don’t.’ She yanked her hands free, not sure whether she wanted to shout at him or simply curl up in a ball and weep. ‘She’s your friend, and you put her on the spot. I have no doubt she was polite.’ She stepped away from him.
How would she ever survive the humiliation?
Megan De Rossi had been wonderful. And for that bright beautiful moment when the other woman had admired her design yesterday, Ally had felt as if she belonged, truly belonged. But it had all been an illusion. An illusion that Dominic had shattered with careless disregard for her feelings.
‘You’ve exposed me to ridicule, Dominic. Can’t you see that? I haven’t even finished fashion college yet. I’ve got months of work left before my final year show. And then, if none of the fashion houses are interested, it could be years before I manage to get an internship. They’re hugely competitive and I don’t even know if I’ve got what it takes to—’
‘Megan wants to invest,’ he interrupted her, his smile not smug so much as sympathetic.
‘What?’ What on earth was he talking about now?
‘Megan De Rossi wants to invest in your brand, ma belle,’ he said again, chuckling as he grasped both her wrists again and tugged her struggling body back towards him, until she was positioned between his thighs. ‘She loves your designs. She says you have huge potential. I told her I was considering bankrolling your collection. I asked her for her advice, whether she thought it would be a good investment. I didn’t want to suggest something that would not succeed. She not only said it would be a fabulous investment, she said she wanted to invest, too.’
‘She...she didn’t.’ Ally’s body went limp, the shock making her knees tremble. Megan De Rossi had liked her designs enough to invest in them? It didn’t even seem possible, let alone plausible. This was huge. It was beyond huge. It was... Everything.
‘She did,’ he said. Resting his hand on her neck, he rubbed his thumb across her collarbone where her pulse was pounding like a jackhammer. ‘Why are you so surprised?’
‘Because...’ The tears that she had refused to shed yesterday made her throat raw, and her eyes sting. ‘Because it’s... It’s like a dream come true.’
* * *
Dominic tucked a knuckle under her chin, the glitter of unshed tears destroying him. He’d wanted to find a solution to the problem of the money; it seemed he’d found much more than that.
How could he not have realised how insecure she was? Because she’d been so brave and bold and determined up to now—that was why. But underneath that was a woman who had had to fight for every chance, every opportunity, and drag herself through God only knew what to make her dream a reality. Well, she didn’t have to drag herself any more. He was going to make sure she soared.
‘So, if I said I was going to invest in your start-up, you would accept?’
He saw the dazed hope in her face fade a little. ‘But I don’t know anything about business. All I know is how to design and make clothes.’
He nodded. This much he could help her with. ‘Luckily for you, I know a lot about business,’ he said. ‘The idea is we would be partners in this venture.’ Like a real husband and wife, he thought, but didn’t say; he didn’t want to spook her, any more than he wanted to spook himself. ‘I’ll give you all the financial and business support you need. Rent premises in London for your workshop, pay for the salaries of your staff...’
‘Staff?’ Her eyes went so large he had to resist a laugh.
‘Yes, staff. A business manager, a personal assistant, a publicist, and those are just the basics. I would assume a fledgling fashion brand would also need creative staff.’
‘But... Isn’t that going to be very expensive?’ she said and he could already hear her insecurities putting the brakes on her dream.
But he wasn’t going to allow it. This was the way he could give her something of value from their marriage. Something that would endure long after their liaison was over. Something that would ensure she would never be destitute again. And he would not have to feel responsible.
‘You have to invest money to make money, Alison—that’s the way business works.’