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IwatchHarper’sretreatingback until the door closes behind her. A fist-sized knot is twisting in my gut. Juliette paces the room, fanning her face. Portia has her head in her hands, probably worried if this will ruin her career. Hayden, Lucas, and I stare at each other with a what-the-fuck-is going-on expression. A sense of shock and disbelief presses over us.
“What do we do now?” Juliette asks.
“Bianca, get hold of PR. We need to get a statement out fast.” My phone has been buzzing in my pocket since Portia’s arrival at the Gala. My brothers keep checking their phones every few seconds too. The media are circling. They want answers. “We can’t let the fashion industry believe we’re thieves.”
Juliette scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I would rather bedeadthan copy anything from another designer. Especially one so inferior as Matteo Blanchett. Portia, I can’t stand to look at that gown a moment longer. Go to wardrobe—someone will show you where it is—and find something to change into.” Juliette points her fan at the door. Portia does what she’s told and hurries away.
“Are you sure her people didn’t do this?” Hayden asks me.
I shake my head. “I believed her when she said she could trust them. I know Portia is tight with her staff.”
“What about your team?” Hayden looks at Juliette.
“No way in hell would they do this. They have been loyal to me for over twenty years.”
“Then it’s Harper,” Lucas accuses. “We haven’t seen her in years. Suddenly, she’s working at Alessi’s. Was it all a plan with Matteo?”
“Of course she’s working with Matteo. You saw how close they appeared during the meeting. And today he sends her flowers. It can’t be anyone else.” Bianca looks at us like we’re all dense and can’t see this for ourselves.
Juliette slams her fan on the table. “Bianca, that’s ridiculous. Harper did not steal the design. That girl is as innocent as a newborn lamb.”
Bianca rolls her eyes. “Don’t be fooled by her oh-so-sweet look. That woman was married to Derek Richardson, remember? He probably taught her everything he knew.”
Anger simmers in my gut. My fists clench at my sides. That fucker’s name always causes such a reaction.
“I have to say, it was a ballsy move on her part. Did she think she wouldn’t get caught? Giving Matteo the design for the gown and headpiece was a stupid move, especially since we know they’re well acquainted.” Bianca gives a mocking laugh.
My body grows still. “Harper didn’t know about the headpiece.”
Bianca’s eyes widen. “What?”
“The headpiece. You said Harper gave the design for the gownandthe headpiece to Matteo. Only Portia’s stylist, Juliette and her team, and us in this room knew what the headpiece looked like.”
Bianca waves a dismissive hand. “Oh…I…just meant to say gown. Slip of the tongue.” Color drains from her face.
“Pass me your phone,” I demand.
“Why?” Bianca’s gaze flicks around the room like she wants to make a run for it.
I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone. Now.” I keep my voice quiet and controlled, belying the raging anger pulsing through my body.
“Finn, this is ridiculous. You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”
“The. Phone.”
Bianca’s gaze darts from Hayden, Lucas, and Juliette. “Tell Finn this is absurd.” No one speaks up to defend her. Bianca’s pleading eyes flick back to me. “Please, believe me.” Harper said those same words and I let her believe I didn’t.
“The phone.”
“This is my phone. I don’t have to give it to you.” Bianca pulls her shoulders back, challenging me, although her voice trembles with fear.
“It belongs to the company, therefore it’s mine. Give it to me now, or I’ll call the police and you can give it to them.”
Bianca stares at me, her face white, her eyes wide, and her chest heaving. Finally, with a shaky hand, she passes the phone to me. Hayden and Lucas flank my sides. Juliette sidles up close too. Swiping the screen open, I go straight to Bianca’s inbox. When I can’t find anything incriminating, I pull up the deleted messages. Bam! Message found. The name is saved as MB. Not exactly a great disguise. She probably never thought she’d get caught. Opening the message, I read their correspondence. There are also photos of the sketches and of the completed gown and headpiece.
With a gasp, Juliette covers her mouth with her hand. “How could you? This is my life. My baby. You have sullied my work and reputation. Why?”
I throw the phone on the table with such force it skids along the smooth surface and onto the floor. “I know you’ve given Harper a hard time from the moment she started working here. Over the years, I’ve put up with your jealousy—hoped you’d get over it. But doing this to our company—to Harper—you’ve gone too far.”
