CHAPTER TWO
Elena didn't believe him at first. Troy Moretti, the man who once crushed her dreams in a single meeting, is now standing outside her studio in the rain, confessing that he couldn't find peace without her? It sounded like a cruel joke. N
She crossed her arm, the smell of rain and wet asphalt mixing with the faint scent of paint and fabric dye from her workshop.
"You expect me to believe you've changed?" she asked, her tone sharp. "No," he replied, "I expect you to believe that you changed me."
Those words hung in the air raw, unguarded, too honest for a man like Troy.
He wasn't used to asking for anything. She wasn't used to forgiving.
Still, something in his eyes, something tired and almost human, made her heart twist. Against her better judgment, she let him in.
Inside, Troy took in the chaos of her world half half-finished dresses, open sketchbooks, fabric swatches scattered across the floor. It was messy, alive, real. Everything in his marble office was not.
"You work here?" he murmured, almost to himself." I live here," she said, meeting his gaze. "Every thread, every stitch, it's who I am."
"And I tried to break that," he admitted. "I was wrong."
It wasn't an apology wrapped in charm, it was quiet, stripped og ego.
For the first time, Elena saw the man beneath the billionaire's mask.
Days turned into weeks. Troy began to visit her studio not as a CEO, but as a man fascinated by her world. He brought hr coffee instead of contracts, asked questions about design, and sometimes, just sat in silence watching her work.
She didn't know what to call what was happening between them. It wasn't love, not yet. But it was something, something neither could stop.
Still, old habits die hard. Troy's world demanded control. His board frowned upon "distractions." And when the media caught wind of his connection with a small designer, whispers began.
"She's using him for fame."
"he's lost focus."
"It'll never last."
Troy could ignore the headline, but not the look of doubt in Elena's eyes.
"Do you think they're right?" he asked one night. "I think," she said softly, "you're scared they might be."
Her words cut deep because she was right. He was terrified. Of needing her. Of being seen as weak. Of losing everything he'd built.
And yet, when she turned away, he reached for her hand.
"Then stay," he whispered. Even if I don't deserve it yet...stay."
She looked at him for a long time, then, quietly, she did.