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‘Megan only brought the opportunity up in passing because she couldn’t understand why you hadn’t thought of entering. I contacted the organisers on my own.’
‘You don’t know what you’ve done.’ She stood up, pressing a hand to her forehead. ‘Maybe I could back out.’
He stood and placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her round to face him. ‘We’re not backing out,’ he said. ‘Whatever you need to make this happen, you have my full support.’
He hadn’t meant to upset her and it made his stomach hurt too, to see her in this much distress; he hadn’t realised she was still this insecure. Everything she’d told him about the business, and everything he’d gleaned from Megan, had been overwhelmingly positive. Apparently, she’d been holding out on him.
But that didn’t alter the fact this was a great opportunity. Even if she didn’t win the competition, it would give her visibility and experience. So far, she’d stayed in her comfort zone. You couldn’t make things happen in business if you did that.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said, the panic and devastation clear in her voice. ‘I don’t even have the proper materials any more. The fabric I had planned to use as the signature feature of my collection just got poached by another designer.’
He held her shoulders and pulled her into his arms. Damn, she was shaking. She wasn’t just freaking out now, she was having a full-on panic attack.
He cradled her face in his hands, pulled her gaze to his. ‘Can you get a replacement?’
‘It took me two months to find this one. And I don’t have that time. Not if I’m going to show a collection that doesn’t even exist in six weeks.’
At least she was admitting the show would happen. He took that as a positive step.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his phone. ‘Who’s the supplier?’
‘It’s a Mumbai co-operative. They work with girls and women who have been abused or made homeless. Their workmanship is exquisite and the fabrics they make stunning. But they need exposure, exposure I can’t give them. It was naïve of me to think I could when I’m...’
‘This show will give them exposure, no?’
‘Yes, but...’ Flags of colour appeared on her pale cheeks, but her eyes remained dark with fear. ‘Not the exposure they need, if it’s a disaster.’
His frustration flared—why hadn’t she told him about this problem when she’d arrived? But he banked it. She was scared. He understood scared. But he had her back. That was what he’d promised her two months ago. Now it was time to deliver.
‘What’s the name of the co-operative?’ he asked.
‘The Dharavi Collective.’
He keyed in Selene Hartley’s number and lifted the phone to his ear. ‘Selene, there is a fabric workshop in Mumbai called the Dharavi Collective. Allycat Designs would like to secure exclusive use of their fabrics for the next year. We will beat any price they have been offered by a rival brand and would also like to put the full weight of LN India behind them to get funding and exposure for their charitable work.’
After Selene had asked him a few further questions about the negotiation, he ended the call.
‘If they have already signed with your rivals we can negotiate with them for a licence to use the material.’
Alison blinked, looking shell-shocked. ‘I didn’t know you had offices in India.’
‘LeGrand Nationale is an international company,’ he said. ‘I’ve been to India many times. It’s a fascinating, beautiful country, full of talent and initiative. And projects such as this collective. Why wouldn’t I have offices there?’
‘Yes, why wouldn’t you?’ she said. But her chin dropped to her chest and her shoulders slumped and he knew they were not out of the woods yet.
The fabric situation was only a symptom of a much bigger roadblock. Alison’s fear of failure.
He tucked a knuckle under her chin. ‘You must talk to me, Alison. I can’t help, if you don’t tell me what the problem is.’
‘I just...’ She sighed. ‘I’m not sure I’m good enough. Everything’s happening too fast. I’m scared to make a mistake, to let anyone down. If the show fails, the—’
‘No, no, no.’ He gripped her face, pressed a kiss to her forehead, to stop the rambling irrational fears. ‘This is nonsense, Alison.’ The heavy weight twisted into a knot. ‘You won’t fail, but, even if you did, it is not the end, it is just an opportunity. A beginning. There are many ways we can ensure the collective will be okay, but that’s not the real fear that is holding you back, am I right?’
She sucked in a jerky breath, and he watched her step back from the cliff edge, but then she nodded. Because however panicked she was, she was not stupid.
‘Yes, the real fear is that I’ll fail. That I’ll take everyone down with me. But I don’t know how to stop worrying about it. How to get past it.’
‘You never stop worrying, that’s not how it works,’ he said. ‘I have over five thousand employees worldwide. People who depend on me to feed and clothe and house themselves and their families. And that responsibility weighs on me constantly. But every day I take new risks. Sometimes there is a reward, other times a punishment. And if the risk doesn’t pay off, if I fail, I try to bear the brunt of the punishment, to protect the people who work for me. But without the risk and the reward, my business would die anyway, do you see?’
