The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 183

183 An Awkward Retreat and a Professional Advance

Quentin ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. Even disheveled from work, he looked ruggedly handsome in his casual sweater and jeans. I’d hired him for his impressive resume and experience in luxury fashion management, but I couldn’t deny that his looks had made an impression too. (1)

My phone buzzed again in my purse. Sebastian, no doubt, wondering why I hadn’t responded.

“Should we order in lunch?” Quentin suggested after we’d been working for over an hour. “I know a great place that delivers on weekends.”

The elevator filled quickly with weekend workers, creating a human barrier between me and any chance Sebastian might follow. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“I’m already here,” I shrugged. “And this is much more productive than what I’d be doing at home.”

I glanced at my watch, surprised at how quickly time had passed. “That sounds perfect.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? It’s the weekend.”

I practically dove into the elevator, pressing myself against the back wall as if I could somehow disappear into it. My forehead throbbed where I’d bumped it on the elevator door in my hasty retreat from Sebastian.

“In that case,” Quentin said, pulling out another portfolio, “I’d love your insight on the spring collection from two years ago. The color palette was extraordinary-those

ted pastels somehow looked bold rather than washed out.”

“Hold the door please!” someone called.

Likewise,” I replied, setting my bag down. “Working on a weekend?”

“That was actually my suggestion,” I admitted. “The typical spotlight approach wasn’t working with the metallic threads we’d incorporated.”

## Hazel’s POV

Quentin looked impressed. “You have quite an eye for detail.”

We settled at the conference table, spreading out portfolios of previous shows. Quentin was thorough and insightful, asking smart questions about our design processes and event coordination.

Like overthinking Sebastian’s confession and my clumsy response.

The conversation eased some of the tension from my shoulders. This was exactly what I needed-normal workplace interaction instead of emotionally charged confessions that left me feeling like I was standing on quicksand.

“It’s both a blessing and a curse,” I said. “I notice everything, even when I don’t want to.”

“Ms. Shaw?” he asked, catching me staring.

I turned my attention back to the portfolios, but my mind wandered. Here I was, purposely avoiding Sebastian’s messages while willingly spending my Saturday with another attractive man. What did that say about me?

I touched the spot reflexively and winced. “Just a minor accident. Nothing serious.”

What just happened? Sebastian Sinclair had confessed that he liked me. And I had responded by running away and smacking my head like some slapstick comedy character.

“Just Hazel is fine,” I said quickly. “And yes, whatever you recommend for lunch works for me.”

“Problem?” Quentin asked.

My phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out to see Sebastian’s name on the screen.

“Like what?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Quentin nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Hazel it is.”

I quickly tucked the phone away. I couldn’t deal with this right now. He probably thought I was hopelessly infatuated with him-so flustered by his confession that I couldn’t even walk straight. The thought made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Actually,” Quentin said, gathering some folders, “I was hoping to review some of the past fashion show materials with someone from the creative team. Since you’re here…”

I glanced around the room. “Like how the plant in the corner is slowly dying because someone keeps overwatering it. Or how the carpet under the east window is fading faster than the rest because we forgot to order UV-filtering film for that section.”

“Actually, I heard myself saying, “I’d like to go through the rest of these if you have time. It’s good to revisit our previous work, especially with the new collection coming up.”

The elevator finally reached my floor. I squeezed past the other occupants, mumbling apologies as I escaped into the hallway. The office was quiet on the weekend, but a light shone from the main workspace.

I laughed despite myself. “That table has claimed many victims.”

My phone remained silent in my bag, Sebastian’s message still unanswered. I knew I would have to address it eventually, but for now, I was content to lose myself in work with a handsome, professional colleague who wasn’t asking anything of me beyond my professional expertise.

“Is everything okay?” Quentin asked, eyeing my forehead with concern.

“That was all about juxtaposition,” I explained, grateful for the distraction. “We paired those soft tones with unexpected textures and hard geometric lines.”

But as Quentin returned to the table, his sleeve briefly brushing against mine as he sat down, I wondered if I was just trading one complication for another.

My phone buzzed a third time. I pulled it out, seeing Sebastian’s message: “Is your forehead okay? Please let me know you’re alright.”

“I’d be happy to,” I said quickly, perhaps too eagerly. “Let’s use the conference room- just watch out for that corner.”

Mest trying to get up to speed,” he said. “There’s a lot to learn about Evening Gala’s history.”

N thing, I told myself firmly. This was work. Professional development. Nothing more.

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