Chapter Fifteen
On Wednesday morning, Amanda received a call from Rebecca.
"Katherine said she's ready to work with you," Rebecca informed her. "Consult with her people on when she'll be available."
"That's great. I'll reach out today."
She was about to hang up when her sister said, "There's one condition, though."
Of course.
"What is it?"
"Work on a high fashion collection."
This wasn't the first time Amanda had heard this suggestion. She didn't need to think twice about it. "No."
Rebecca's sigh came across the phone. "Think about it. Can you imagine Katherine Wells wearing one of the cheap outfits you make?"
"Yes, I can. That's exactly what she wears on an everyday basis."
"This is your chance to command attention from the entire world. Nobody wants to see how cheap you can make stylish outfits, Amanda."
"Actually, everybody that matters to this company likes to see exactly that. Do you know why I reached out to Katherine back then?"
"She's popular. Why else?"
"That wouldn't be enough. Why is she so popular? Look at her foundations. She does everything from feeding the hungry to clothing the homeless. She rhymes with the mission here." Amanda paused. "Or so I thought."
"Do you have any idea the kind of demographic group you're locking out with this stupid mission of yours?"
"Yes. People who can afford what the bigger percentage of the population cannot."
Rebecca sighed again. "Look, I don't have the time for this."
"Neither do I."
"I was trying to give you a heads up, but it doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do at this point, anyway."
"I can always look for another brand ambassador," Amanda decided.
"The board already agreed to allocate funding for a high fashion collection only."
Amanda drew back in surprise. "What?"
"Why don't you ask your people to fill you in? I got to go." She hung up.
Amanda drew the phone from her ear and placed it on her desk.
A high fashion collection only?
What the heck?
This must be a joke!
She hurried to the door, with one destination in mind.
The CEO's office.
"Does Mr. Erikson have company?" she asked Janelle when she got to his floor.
Janelle shook her head. "No, but--"
Amanda was already halfway towards the office.
Janelle hurried after her. "Miss Lemaiyan, you can't--"
Amanda pulled the door open and walked into the room. Her eyes flitted to his desk, but he wasn't there. Where…
Her eyes widened as she caught sight of him, half-naked, a shirt hanging off one of his arms.
He was emerging from the other side of the room, where there was a bathroom.
Why was he naked in the office?
He pulled the white shirt up his shoulder, then pushed his other arm through the other sleeve. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to cover his torso, which allowed her to get a good look at his well-defined abdominal muscles…
She dragged her eyes away when she realised she was staring.
"Don't look so scandalised, Amanda. It's nothing you haven't seen before."
She lifted her eyes to his face.
"Or touched," Lucas added, walking towards her.
She fought the urge to step back. Or entertain whatever he thought he was doing by bringing up the past.
"I just found out that apparently, I'm supposed to be working on a high fashion collection."
His brows came together. "Just found out? Was this not your idea?"
"No! Who said that?"
He shrugged. "I was informed that's the special project for the upcoming third anniversary."
"If Lemaiyan Fits was having a special project for its anniversary, it would be something in line with what this company stands for, don't you think?" She noticed that he wasn't making any progress with his dressing. "Can you put on your clothes, please?" She crossed her arms across her chest. "Don't you have a bathroom at home?"
His fingers worked on the buttons. "My shower broke this morning."
"Do you have only one shower in your house?"
"Yes." He caught her gaze. "Why? Do you have more to share at yours?"
The last time Amanda checked, the Eriksons lived in a 7-bedroom mansion. Did this mean that Lucas was not staying at the family home?
When was the last time he stayed there, anyway? Over the years, her family and the Eriksons had been to several events together, and not once had she come across Lucas. How long had he been in the States? Why had nobody mentioned him until he came back?
She was curious, but there was no way she could ask about it without crossing the "work-only" line she had drawn between them.
"I did not discuss about developing any concepts for a high fashion collection with anyone."
Done with his shirt, Lucas stalked to his desk. "Look, I'm the CEO here. It's not my job to inform you about these things. Why don't you know about this when you're the creative director? In my opinion, this is a great step for the company. Such a collection will tap into a high-paying clientele you've ignored so far. My job here is to make a profit, and that's exactly what I'm doing."
Amanda scoffed. "Not for much longer."
She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. "Look, I've read all about your vision and dreams and whatnot. But you do realise all that will be hard to achieve when the group has the final say, right?"
Amanda had always been aware that not having control could be a problem. But never before had her father interfered with her projects. Everything had been smooth sailing, and the company enjoyed a lot of support from the group.
What was her father aiming at?
Why was he acting as if he wanted to keep Lemaiyan Fits in the conglomerate forever? If he wanted to, there wasn't much she could do.
She had trusted him when he said he would leave it to her in the end.
Surely, he didn't mean to keep it in the group when she already gave him nearly all of her mother's inheritance, did he?
She heard footsteps behind her. She turned around to find Lucas approaching, an envelope in hand.
"My mother insisted that I give this to you in person."
She looked down at the envelope. "What is it?"
"An invitation to my parent's thirty fifth wedding anniversary."
Amanda reached for the envelope. "Why would she send it through you?"
Lucas leaned in, and this time, she couldn't help but lean back. His lips hovered near her ear.
"Come to the party and you'll find out, Amanda."
His voice was low, his breath fanning her skin. He was standing dangerously close, as if he was intentionally attempting to get under her skin.
Before she could turn and run, he pulled back.
She avoided his face and stared at his chest. And got a sudden yearning to run her hand on the silky fabric of his shirt and feel the muscle below…
She turned around and hurried out of the office, not bothering with formalities.