The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 185

185 An Unexpected Connection

185 An Unexpected Connection

The gesture caught me off guard. It was such a small thing, yet thoughtful in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. People rarely paid attention to details about me.

Quentin shook his head. “No girlfriend. No one waiting.” He paused. “And you? Besides that ‘complicated’ friend from yesterday?”

“Great minds think alike,” he replied with a smile, dipping a piece of beef into the bubbling broth.

“Though fools seldom differ,” I finished the saying.

I sat at my desk, replaying my conversation with Sebastian from yesterday. The genuine concern in his voice still rang in my ears, making me feel guilty for how coldly I’d reacted. He had only been trying to help, and I’d pushed him away like his care was an inconvenience.

“Curiosity,” he said without hesitation. “I want to see what happens next. In fashion, in business, in life-I’m driven by wanting to know what’s around the corner.”

“That’s surprisingly philosophical,” I observed.

He nodded, accepting the boundary. “What drives you? Beyond talent, beyond ambition-what keeps you going when things get tough?”

“Thank you for the company,” he replied. “It’s nice to find someone who shares so many of my viewpoints on the industry.”

“You can get it next time,” he said, then quickly added, “if there is a next time, professionally speaking.”

By midafternoon, my head was throbbing again, but I pushed through. My career was the only thing I could truly count on now. Not family, not love—just my own talent and

determination.

“Just being practical,” he replied easily. “Cold hands make for slow typing.”

“Are you calling us fools, Ms. Shaw?” he teased.

“It’s uncanny,” I remarked after yet another point of agreement. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”

09.46

1/6

I leaned forward, ignoring my discomfort. “I want to make a statement. After everything with Alistair, people are watching to see if I’ll fail.”

I closed my laptop, making a decision. “Let me treat you to dinner. As thanks for all your help this weekend.”

His dedication impressed me. Most people saw the glamorous side of fashion-the runway shows, the magazine spreads. Few understood the business behind it, the countless hours of work that went into each design.

“I want to,” I insisted. “Unless you have other plans?”

“Your choice. What sounds good?”

I smiled despite myself. “Of course.”

By six o’clock, we had a solid plan for Milan and had reviewed most of my previous work. My stomach growled audibly, reminding me I’d skipped lunch.

“So have you,” I pointed out.

“Sorry,” we said simultaneously, then laughed.

“Can I ask you something personal?” he said after a pause.

I hesitated. “People talk.”

We both laughed, and I realized with a start that I was genuinely enjoying myself. Not just tolerating an obligation or networking, but actually having a good time.

We spent the morning reviewing my past collections, analyzing what had worked and what hadn’t. Quentin had clearly done his homework, speaking intelligently about

designs I’d created years ago.

The statement was innocent enough, but something in his tone-a note of pleased surprise-made me wonder if this unexpected connection might be exactly what my fledgling company needed… or if it might complicate matters in ways I couldn’t yet foresee.

“No,” I decided firmly. “Let’s go. I’m not going to stop living my life because of potential

gossip.”

As we finished our meal, Quentin insisted on handling the bill despite my protests.

09.66

2/6

<

185 An Unexpected Connection

“So you found another way in,” I observed.

“Hot pot sounds perfect,” I agreed, standing up.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said with mock seriousness. “I’ve cultivated a reputation as a numbers guy.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it. Previous job had me working eighteen-hour days regularly.”

“How’s the head?” he asked, noticing my gesture.

“Your early work had this beautiful raw edge,” he noted, scrolling through photos on his laptop. “But your more recent collections show incredible refinement without losing that initial spark.”

“I hope you like spicy food,” he said as we settled into our booth.

From his bag, he pulled out a small thermos. “Hot water. I noticed yesterday your hands were cold while working. Thought this might help.”

We spent the next two hours outlining concepts, sketching rough ideas, and creating a production timeline. Quentin’s organizational skills complemented my creative process perfectly. When I’d jump ahead with a burst of inspiration, he’d pull me back, making sure we addressed the practical aspects.

“Necessity,” I answered honestly. “When you grow up knowing no one will catch you if you fall, you learn to stand no matter what.”

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Quentin stood there, laptop in hand, his expression eager but professional.

We ordered a mix of meats, seafood, and vegetables. As we waited for our food, conversation flowed naturally to fashion, our shared passion.

“That’s… very considerate,” I said, accepting the thermos. The warmth immediately seeped into my perpetually cold fingers.

“Fair enough,” he conceded with a good-natured smile. “So, just dinner between colleagues then.”

I gave him a pointed look. “My personal life is just that-personal.”

09:46

3/6

185 An Unexpected Connection

The restaurant Quentin chose was upscale yet comfortable, with private booths for each table. Steam rose from the hot pots, filling the air with delicious aromas of spices

and herbs.

As dinner progressed, I found myself relaxing in a way I rarely did around new people. There was something refreshingly straightforward about Quentin. No hidden agendas, no manipulation-just honest conversation and mutual respect.

“I should probably ask,” I said as we walked toward the elevator, “do you have someone waiting for you at home? A girlfriend who might wonder why you’re having dinner with your boss on a Sunday night?”

His easy acceptance made me reconsider. I’d spent too many years worrying about appearances, about what others might think. I was done living that way.

“Exactly.” I smiled, appreciating his quick understanding. “I’m thinking of a collection that’s both a departure and a return to my roots.”

“A woman after my own heart,” he joked, then quickly added, “professionally speaking,

of course.”

Our food arrived, and we fell into comfortable conversation about industry trends, designers we admired, and our respective career paths. I was surprised by how many of our opinions aligned-from our admiration for certain avant-garde designers to our distaste for fast fashion’s environmental impact.

“Love it,” I replied, studying the menu. “The spicier the better.”

“Let’s talk about Milan,” Quentin suggested, pulling up a fresh document. “Fashion Week is coming up in three months. What’s your vision?”

“We can cancel,” he offered immediately. “I completely understand.”

“Good morning,” he said. “Ready to continue where we left off yesterday?”

His eyes widened slightly. “You don’t have to do that.”

As we walked down the hallway, I absently touched the bump on my forehead. It was still tender but less swollen thanks to the ice pack Quentin had insisted on yesterday.

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I needed to understand your vision if I’m going to help build this company.”

09:46

4/6

185 An Unexpected Connection

I nodded, forcing myself to focus on work. “Absolutely. Let’s use the conference room

again.”

“What about you?” I deflected, uncomfortable with the focus on my motivations.

I tensed slightly. “You can ask. I might not answer.”

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify