Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,33

than its actual weight.

“Where?”

“Over here!”

I find her in the room adjoining the master, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her small stomach is really starting to show now, despite the flowy dress.

“I don’t have any maternity clothes,” she says sheepishly when she sees me looking. “So I’m wearing a summer dress in fall. Whoops.”

“We can go shopping,” I suggest, the idea momentarily cheering me up. “There are great maternity options, you know.”

Skye’s eyes lighten. “Do you want to play personal stylist again?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” she laughs, reaching over to put a hand on my knee. She tugs me down to the floor beside her. “But I don’t mind. You know what I like.”

Excitement floods to my lips before I can stop it. “Oh, we’ll have so much fun. I already have a ton of ideas… maybe we can go tomorrow.”

“We have time,” Skye says, putting a hand over her stomach. “Months of it, in fact.”

“Why are you in here?” I look around at the empty room, my hand fisting in the plush fabric of the carpet. “Oh! The nursery?”

She nods. “I’ve been sitting here looking at paint samples and ideas and trying to figure out how I want it to look.”

“Will you show me?” My niece or nephew will sleep in this room. It’s easy to picture a little girl or boy with Cole and Skye’s dark hair, grinning just like my brother over the bars of her crib.

“Yes, but first, will you tell me what’s in your bag? Are you planning on moving in?”

I laugh, but it’s a bit high-pitched. Pulling my bag into the space between us, I pause with my hands on the zipper. Courage.

“So… I’ve been keeping a little secret.”

Skye’s eyes widen in mock horror. “I can’t help you bury a body.”

I laugh, a bit of tension draining off. It’s just Skye, after all. “Ouch, but no, that’s not what I’m asking. I’ve been working on something and I want your feedback.” With more composure than I feel, I unzip the bag and start pulling out samples.

One by one, I lay them out beside us. A silky slip. A nude-colored bra. Seamless underwear, all packaged in little silken bags. A pair of Spanx-like shorts. A negligee, made from the same silk mix as the slip.

“What’s this?” Skye carefully reaches out to touch the soft material. “These are gorgeous.”

“They’re all my design,” I say. “Instead of a fashion line, I’ve been working on a brand that supplies undergarments and fashion… solutions, I guess I’d call them, like fashion tape. Everything you need to make your already existing wardrobe work better, but sold together under one brand.”

Skye is lifting up the slip, looking at the lace. “This is gorgeous. The finishing…”

I nod, excited now, my words spilling fast. “It took me forever to find the perfect fabric, and then the right maker. I want it to be the best quality—they’ll last forever.”

“When have you had time to do this?”

“I’ve had nothing but time until I started working for Nick,” I say. It’s liberating to finally admit it.

“When are you going to launch?”

“Not yet. I want to think this through,” I say. “I want it to launch as a coherent brand, with a web presence, and online store, all of it.”

“Cole would love—”

“No,” I say immediately. “Cole can’t know. Not yet.”

Skye’s face drops. “Blair, he’d be nothing but supportive.”

Guilt twists my insides. “Oh, I know that, trust me. But…” And here it is, the thing I don’t want to say. He would offer to invest, just like he had with my previous fashion line, which had failed so catastrophically.

Or even worse—he wouldn’t offer, and I’d know that he didn’t believe in me anymore. I wouldn’t give him the choice until I had something working that was up and running.

“This needs to be mine,” I say finally, thinking of all my own money I’m sinking into this. “I want to prove it to myself. That I can do it on my own.”

Skye nods slowly. “I can understand that,” she says, reaching over for one of the bras. “You really designed these? They’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you. That’s one of the slogans I’m workshopping, actually. Making practicality pretty. The pieces I brought are all for your skin tone. Would you mind very much testing them out? Wear them sometimes in the coming weeks? I need feedback.”

Skye nods, a hand back on her stomach. “Of course, yes. I’d love to, for as long as I can.”

She’s the first person I’ve ever told about this.