Chapter 7: Mr. Mercer Needs a Fitting

After the call ends, some of the tension that has followed Adrian all evening finally loosens.

Rosalie can return to France if she wants. This time, he will be able to follow.

But ninety days still isn’t enough to make him feel safe.

By the time Rosalie steps out of the shower, it is past midnight in New York and almost seven in Paris.

Her phone lights up with a video call from her mother. The moment she answers, a round little face fills the screen.

“Mommy!”

Aiden has clearly stolen his grandmother’s phone.

He is already dressed for kindergarten in a pale blue cardigan and white shirt, his soft black hair falling over his forehead.

His blue eyes shine the moment he sees her.

Rosalie smiles as she towels her hair. “Why are you up so early?”

“I have something to tell you. Uncle Julian took me for ice cream yesterday.”

“Did Uncle Julian forget he has a job?”

“He had the day off.” Aiden leans closer as if sharing a secret. “He’s coming to New York for a big fashion show. You’ll see him soon.”

Rosalie pauses.

Julian has not returned to New York in five years. He has received plenty of invitations and turned down every one.

“Mommy, do you miss Uncle Julian?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Because he misses you.” Aiden delivers the news solemnly, though the smile tugging at his mouth gives him away.

“Did he actually say that?”

Aiden nods hard.

Technically, Julian said he missed Rosalie’s noodles. Aiden sees no reason to weaken his case with unnecessary details.

“He asked if you’ve met any other uncles in New York. I told him no.”

In Aiden’s mind, Uncle Julian has held the position of future father for years.

“You should invite him to dinner,” he continues. “He draws with me and buys me ice cream. He’s really, really nice.”

Rosalie plays along. “How nice?”

Aiden thinks until his little brows pinch together. “Nice enough to be my daddy.”

“Aiden Mercer!”

His grandmother’s voice carries from across the room. “Wash your hands, take your medicine, and come eat breakfast.”

Aiden immediately moves the phone farther away, pretending he has said nothing outrageous.

“Grandma wants me. Bye, Mommy! Don’t forget dinner with Uncle Julian!”

The call ends before Rosalie can answer.

At eight thirty the next morning, her alarm drags her awake.

She showers, dresses, and makes herself a latte.

At exactly nine, the hotel phone rings. Rosalie specifically requested that no calls or room service disturb her before then.

“Good morning. Am I speaking with Mira?”

“Yes.”

“I’m the general manager of the Aster Hotel. We’re planning new staff uniforms and would like to discuss a collaboration with TÉRA.”

“Our business office handles commercial projects. You can contact—”

“Mercer Group has already spoken with TÉRA’s U.S. office,” he says quickly. “Mr. Mercer requested that you serve as creative director. His team would like to discuss the details with you at Mercer Biotech headquarters.”

Her coffee stops halfway to her lips.

Rosalie designs high jewelry. She has contributed to complete looks, but she rarely leads apparel projects. Even if the Aster is one of Mercer Group’s flagship hotels, no one needs to discuss employee uniforms at a biotech headquarters.

Who arranged this could hardly be more obvious.

Her fingertip taps the cup as amusement creeps into her eyes.

Last night, Adrian behaved like a man guarding his virtue. This morning, he is already inventing reasons to see her.

“What time would be convenient?” the manager asks.

Rosalie takes a leisurely sip. “I’m busy today. How about four thirty?”

“Of course. I’ll text you the details.”

After they hang up, the manager stares at his phone.

The hotel replaced its uniforms in January with designs from Bellenza.

TÉRA is known for jewelry, and the Aster has its own offices. None of this explains a meeting at Mercer Biotech.

Still, Evan Brooks called him personally at seven thirty. He follows instructions.

Upstairs, Rosalie returns to her latte.

Four thirty is not a random choice. By the time they finish talking, it will be dinner. With luck, there will be wine afterward.

And after that…

She looks down at the foam in her cup, smiling.

At four thirty sharp, Rosalie walks into Mercer Biotech’s lobby.

Evan is waiting near reception. “Welcome, Mira. Mr. Mercer is expecting you.”

“I thought this was about uniforms for the Aster.” She gives him an innocent look. “Shouldn’t I be meeting with the hotel?”

Evan does not blink. “Mr. Mercer would also like a custom evening wardrobe and coordinating accessories. He thought it would be more efficient to discuss both projects here.”

Rosalie laughs inwardly but nods with perfect seriousness. “I see.”

Evan escorts her into the private elevator. Only after the doors close does quiet speculation spread across the lobby. He rarely comes downstairs for anyone.

On the executive floor, Evan opens the office door. “Mr. Mercer is waiting inside, Ms. Hayes.”

Rosalie walks in alone.

Today she wears a cream silk blouse buttoned neatly at the throat and wrists, paired with a fitted crimson skirt that falls below her knees.

Apart from her neck and hands, almost every inch of her is covered.

Adrian still feels as if she has arrived dressed to seduce him.

The more proper she looks, the easier it is to imagine what the silk is hiding.

His blue eyes linger.

Everything he forced himself to suppress last night begins stirring again.