Page 20 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Twenty

Making Things Happen

Lyric woke before the sun.

For once, it wasn’t because of a noise or a bad dream—it was because she wanted to.

She slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb Kai. His arm was stretched across the other side of the mattress, and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t curl up underneath it. She pulled on a robe and padded barefoot into the kitchen, making her own coffee.

That small act felt like a rebellion.

The sketchbook was already waiting on the counter, her favorite design open to a page with sharp shoulders and cascading fabric. She sipped her coffee slowly, studying it. Imagining the way the collar would fall. Wondering how the silk would move.

She didn’t hear Kai come in.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice rough from sleep.

She turned. He looked surprised—pleased—but mildly thrown off, as if she’d broken an unspoken rhythm.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she lied.

He crossed the room and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist from behind.

“Excited? ”

“A little,” she admitted.

“Good,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple. “Because Callie called. She is in the elevator.

She tensed slightly. “Already?”

He smiled into her hair. “Don't be nervous. Let everyone see how amazing you are!”

Before Lyric could respond, the elevator chimed.

A gust of glamour swept into the room.

Tall, with fiery red hair cascading in soft waves and a perfectly tailored emerald-green blazer dress, the woman entered like she already owned the place. Green eyes, confident posture, heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

Kai stepped forward.

“Lyric, this is Callie. She’s worked in design houses in Milan, New York, and Tokyo. She knows everyone worth knowing.”

Callie extended a hand, her smile bright and easy. “You must be Lyric. I’ve seen your sketches. You have an incredible eye.”

Lyric shook her hand, pulse quickening. “Thank you.”

Kai kissed Lyric’s forehead, murmuring, “You’ll be amazing.”

She wanted to believe that.

---

Later That Morning in the fabric district, the city buzzed in a way Lyric hadn’t felt in months. Horns. Sirens. Footsteps hammering the pavement. She sat in the back of the Bentley beside Callie, trying to calm the flurry of nerves inside her.

Callie glanced up from her phone and smiled. “We’ll start at Garvan & Sons. They carry some of the best silks and brocades. After that, we’ll hit a few specialty shops. We’ll find what speaks to you.”

“Okay,” Lyric said, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be.

When they stepped onto the street, the thick summer air pressed against her skin. The fabric shop’s window shimmered with bolts of satin and a mannequin dressed in a half-stitched corset.

Inside, it smelled like wood polish and dye. Velvet. Ink.

Lyric followed Callie through the aisles of color—jewel tones, pastels, midnight blacks—feeling both overwhelmed and electrified.

Then her hand brushed against a bolt of pale blue charmeuse.

She stopped.

“This one,” she murmured, almost afraid to say it aloud.

Callie turned, mid-conversation. “For the waterfall coat?”

Lyric nodded. “Yes. It’s how I imagined it.”

Callie smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Beautiful choice.”

---

They stopped at a tiny café after the third shop. Lyric’s arms ached from carrying samples, but her heart was buzzing.

She stirred her coffee, staring at the small pile of fabric swatches they’d gathered.

“You’re really talented,” Callie said casually, blowing on her cappuccino. “And I don’t just mean the sketches. It’s the way you look at fabric. You have instinct.”

Lyric looked down, embarrassed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“None of us do at first,” Callie said easily. “You’re doing better than you think.”

Lyric let out a breath. “Sometimes I feel like... I don’t even belong in this world.”

Callie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I once pitched a collection to a panel in Paris and forgot the name of my own brand halfway through. Froze. Completely blanked. They laughed me out of the room.”

Lyric blinked. “Seriously?”

Callie grinned. “Cried in a bathroom stall for thirty minutes. The next day, I got an offer from someone who’d seen my designs online. ”

Lyric smiled, the knot in her chest easing slightly.

“I guess I’ve just... spent so long trying to be someone for someone else,” Lyric said quietly. “I forgot what it felt like to be me.”

Callie sipped her coffee and met her eyes—not with pity, but with something warmer. Something real.

“Well,” she said, her voice steady, “you’re doing a hell of a job finding her again.”

---

They visited one final shop, arms fuller and heart lighter.

Her phone buzzed.

Kai’s name lit up the screen. She stepped onto the small balcony outside the studio, the city humming below, fabric samples still clutched in her hand.

“Hi,” she answered, smiling without thinking.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice low and warm. “How’s the fashion empire coming along?”

She laughed, the sound surprising even herself. “It’s... amazing. Callie’s been incredible.”

“I knew she would be.” A pause. “I have a surprise for you.”

Her heart skipped. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see. I wish I could be there, but I’ve got to get back to a meeting. I’m sending Thomas to pick you up. He’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Oh,” she said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“You’ll love it. Trust me.”

She bit her lip. “Okay.”

“Text me when you get there. I want to hear what you think.” A beat. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The line clicked off.

She stood there for a second, holding the phone against her chest.

Then she turned back inside.

Callie was rolling a bolt of deep crimson silk, her sleeves pushed to her elbows, hair pinned in a lazy twist .

“That was Kai,” Lyric said. “He’s sending Thomas to take me somewhere. He said it’s a surprise.”

Callie arched a brow. “A good surprise or a Kai surprise?”

Lyric laughed. “I guess I’ll find out.”

She gathered her things and paused by the door. “Thank you. For today.”

Callie smiled, genuine and warm. “You’re going to kill it, Lyric. Go see what your prince has planned.”

---

The car pulled up in front of a corner building wrapped in scaffolding and heavy tarps. Dust floated in the air like confetti. A construction crew was moving equipment inside. The sidewalk was cordoned off with neon tape.

Lyric stepped out of the car slowly, shielding her eyes from the sun.

Thomas gestured toward the door. “Go on. She’s waiting inside.”

“She?”

“The interior designer.”

Lyric stepped through the makeshift entryway—and stopped.

The space was raw. Open beams. Concrete floor. Sawdust and sunlight. But the bones were beautiful. Huge windows flooded the room with golden light. High ceilings. Exposed brick in the back. She could already picture it—mirrors, sleek racks, a bold white counter with her name on it.

She walked slowly across the room, heart pounding.

“Lyric?” a voice called out.

She turned.

And saw her.

Tall. Blonde. Flawless. Sculpted like she’d stepped out of a runway show.

Her black jumpsuit fit like it had been sewn directly onto her body, sleek and perfect in a way Lyric wasn’t sure she could ever pull off.

She carried a leather folio tucked neatly under one arm, walking with the easy confidence of someone who belonged anywhere .

For a split second, Lyric faltered.

The woman smiled and approached with a firm handshake. “I’m Cameron. Kai’s interior designer. You must be the woman of the hour.”

Lyric shook her hand, her confidence wobbling. “That’s me.”

She wasn't quite as friendly as Callie. She was all business.

Cameron walked her through the space, pointing out architectural renderings and where the dressing rooms would go, where the lighting rigs would hang, where the signage would be mounted.

Kai had already paid for all of it. All she had to do... was make it hers.

She tried to focus.

She felt insecure compared to these tall modelesque women that Kai had hired.

She forced those thoughts away.

“You said signage?” Lyric asked, stepping into the center of the room.

Cameron nodded. “Yes. We’ll need to finalize the font and branding for the sign out front. Any ideas?”

Lyric looked around, at the beams, the rawness, the sunlight.

Then she whispered it, barely audible.

“Lyric.”

Cameron smiled. “Simple. Elegant. It works.”

Lyric stepped toward the windows, her fingers brushing the dusty glass, eyes scanning the street beyond.

For the first time, it didn’t feel like a fantasy.

It felt like the beginning of something real.

And somewhere deep inside, a small voice marveled,

Oh my God... this is happening so fast.

She felt like Cinderella.

Only this time, she wasn’t just wearing someone else’s gown.

She was building something of her own.