It was my first day working closely with Vicar Voss. I arrived at VOSS Couture earlier than usual.
I clutched my sketchbook tightly to my chest, my heartbeat was faster than normal.
Even thinking about it made my stomach twist.
When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out onto the design floor. The scent of new fabric and polished wood filled the air. I could already see Vicar Voss through the glass wall of his private design office, standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear.
His back was to me, he looked confident in his dark suit perfectly tailored. He looked like he belonged to another world: one I wasn't sure I was ready for.
I hesitated, then knocked softly on the glass door.
He turned, his eyes locking with mine. That single look made my breath catch. He ended his call and motioned for me to come in.
"Good morning, Miss Berlin," he said.
"Good morning, Mr. Voss," I replied, trying not to sound nervous.
"You're early." He said, softly.
"I didn't want to be late." I replied.
He nodded, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. "That's good. I value people who respect time." He said.
He gestured toward the large table near him, covered with sketches and fabrics. "Let's begin." He urged.
For the next few hours, we worked side by side.
He studied every line I drew and every color I chose. Sometimes, he'd lean over my shoulder to look at my sketches, his breath brushing against my neck. It made it almost impossible to concentrate.
At one point, I dropped my pencil. He bent down at the same time I did, and our hands brushed.
"Sorry," I whispered quickly, my face heating up.
"It's fine," he said, his voice was calm but his eyes lingered a second longer than they should have.
There was something strange about working so close to him. He wasn't like other men: he never raised his voice. But when he spoke, people listened.
And when he looked at me… I felt seen in a way that both thrilled and scared me.
"This design," he said after a moment, tapping the corner of my sketch, "it's strong, but the lines are too safe. You can do better." He suggested.
"I'll fix it," I said quickly.
"Don't fix it," he replied. "Feel it. Clothes tell stories, Miss Berlin. Yours should make people listen." He muttered.
His words stayed with me long after he walked away.
Around lunchtime, Arica walked into the design floor carrying two cups of coffee. She spotted me and grinned.
"Someone's looking busy," she said, placing one cup in front of me.
"Thanks," I said, smiling. "Just trying not to mess up."
"Mess up? You're glowing, Berlin. Look at you: you're working next to Vicar Voss." She teased.
I laughed nervously. "He's intimidating, that's all."
Her eyes softened. "Don't worry. You've got this. Just be yourself." She encouraged me.
She was so warm and kind: just like always. There wasn't even a flicker of envy in her tone.
And yet, when Vicar walked by us moments later and paused to give me a small nod, I noticed the way her hand tightened slightly around her cup. Just for a second.
Then she smiled again as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of sketches and discussions. Vicar wasn't easy to please, but when he finally looked at one of my pieces and said, "That's it," I felt like I'd just won an award.
He sat back, studying my drawing carefully. "This one… it speaks. Keep this energy for the entire line." He muttered.
"I will," I said in a low voice.
He looked up at me again, and something unreadable passed between us. "You're different, Berlin"
I blinked. "Different?"
"Most people design to impress. You design to feel. That's rare." He confessed.
I smiled faintly. "Maybe it's because that's all I've ever had: feelings and dreams."
For the first time, he smiled fully. It softened his sharp features, and made him look almost human. "Dreams are dangerous," he said. "But sometimes, they make the best art."
Before I could respond, his assistant stepped in. "Sir, your car's waiting."
He nodded and turned to me. "We have an event to attend, the award nominations at Aluxe fashion house. Organize three of our staff that would come with us". He declared.
"Yes, sir." I muttered.
As he walked out, I caught his reflection in the glass. I wondered what it would be like to really know him beneath that perfection.
Later that evening, Arica and I met for dinner at our small apartment. The smell of pasta filled the air as we sat at the kitchen table.
"So," she said, taking a bite. "How was it working with Mr. Voss?"
I sighed, smiling. " He's so serious, but when he talks about design it's like he feels everything." I muttered.
Arica laughed softly. "I've seen the way he looks at you, Berlin. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." She teased
My heart skipped. "What do you mean?" I hesitated.
She shrugged casually. "He just… seems interested, that's all. Maybe it's professional or maybe not.
I blushed, shaking my head. "He's my boss, Arica. It's not like that. And by the way: there's an event happening tomorrow, he's told me to inform three of our staff. You'd love to come right? I asked.
"Sure I'd love to come. Who wouldn't love to attend such a big event" She agreed , smiling sheepishly.
I'd only been here a few weeks, and yet somehow, I'd become part of something so big.
"Pack something stunning," Arica said that evening as we sorted through our dresses. "It's a weekend event, so we'll stay over at the hotel." She said.
"Stunning?" I laughed nervously. "You say that like I have a closet full of designer gowns." I replied.
She rolled her eyes. " Berlin, you work at VOSS Couture. Borrow one. I'll help you choose." She teased.
And she did. She picked out a silver dress with a slit and soft shimmer that hugged me in all the right places. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
"You look like someone who belongs on a red carpet," Arica said, smiling wide. "Even Mr. Voss will have to notice you now." She teased.
I blushed, shaking my head. "Don't start."
She laughed, but something flickered in her eyes. I couldn't read it then…