"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked, sprawled on the boutique floor. One moment I was talking with Leah, trying to save her from drowning and another I was on the floor. My back throbbed from where he dropped me moments ago. He stood there like a statue, not even pretending to help.

Bastard.

"That's what I need to ask you. You seem to have a knack for destroying my wardrobe," he said, folding his arms across his chest. My eyes darted to the red dye splattered across his shirt, my handprints now adding color to the white fabric. Doesn't he own anything other than white?

"And you seem to have a knack for wearing impractical colors," I retorted, struggling to get up. "Maybe if you diversified your wardrobe, you wouldn't have these problems."

He sighed dramatically, extending a hand that I grudgingly accepted. "If you weren't such a walking disaster, my wardrobe wouldn't need diversification."

"Who let you in anyway?" I asked, looking around my boutique. I saw no one. Where was Pattie? I distinctly remember telling her Skye Maxwell would be arriving, and she needed to receive her because I was busy with the new designs; Leah had come up with the idea of putting our handprints on t-shirts for a limited edition.

"Funny how I had the same question. Who was stupid enough to let you in?" He poked a finger in my chest, frowning. We were now a breath away from each other. I briefly considered spitting in his face but thought otherwise.

"I'll have you know that this is my boutique. And you are something we don't entertain in our store." I pointed at the sign hanging against the glass door at the entrance. "See? No pets allowed."

His eyes narrowed as he followed my gesture, then flicked back to me, a dangerous glint in them. "You've got quite a mouth on you, haven't you?" he said, his voice low and menacing.

"I learned from the best," I shot back, not backing down. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me. This man, with his impeccable suits and cold demeanor, was trouble. And I didn't need more trouble in my life.

He smirked, a predatory look crossing his face. "You think you're clever, don't you? Let's see how clever you are when your little boutique goes under."

"You don't scare me," I lied, my voice wavering slightly. "Now, if you're done ruining my day, I have work to do."

"As do I. You see, I have better things to do than dealing with pests like-" His stopped mid-sentence starring at something behind me.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

"Theodora, darling! There you are!" Skye's voice was a melody of warmth and charm. Her eyes sparkled with genuine delight as she approached me. She glided across the room with effortless grace, her elegance accentuated by the string of pearls that adorned her neck. Her black hair was styled into a flawless updo, and her warm smile could have softened even the sternest of hearts.

Even that misogynistic giraffe.

Was he afraid of her? Whatever it was, he stopped immediately after seeing her. I decided it was a good opportunity to one up him by using my acquaintance.

"Mrs. Maxwell! It's a pleasure," I responded, trying to sound as enthusiastic as I felt. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Just Skye. Of course, darling! But first, would you mind cleaning up?" Skye's gaze fell on my hands, which were marred with splotches of dye. I looked down, somewhat embarrassed.

"Right. Of course." I quickly turned to face the figure I had been trying to ignore. "See yourself out, will you?" I muttered under my breath, though I made sure he could hear.

Skye's attention shifted as she turned back to me with a waving gesture. "Conrad, this is Theodora Lane, my new designer. And Thea, this is Conrad, my son."

The words hit me like a tidal wave. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a tornado. My mouth fell open in disbelief.

Son? Did she say son?

Conrad's expression mirrored my own shock, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor. As reality hit and realization dawned, I knew I was doomed.

This was going to be a long day.

Skye's gaze shifted from my hands to Conrad's shirt, which was splattered with the same dye. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she looked at me with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

This was Conrad Maxwell, the son of my most prized client, and the mafia prince I had insulted not once, but twice now. My mind raced, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. If it still was that is.

"Theodora," she said with a slight chuckle, "it seems your creative process has left quite an impression on my son's shirt."

I couldn't help but feel at ease when she found humor in the situation. Maybe this wasn't that bad. Maybe he wasn't that bad.

I tried to suppress a smirk, though it was difficult. "Oh, yes. It appears so."

Skye's eyes twinkled with amusement as she continued, "Conrad, honey, it seems you've had quite the week. First, the wine, and now this?"

Did she know it was me? Probably not, since her son himself realized it now.

"Conrad, why don't you go with Thea and change into something more clean?" Skye suggested, her tone light but firm.

"I don't think that's necessary." Conrad, still glaring at the dye-stained shirt, muttered.

"Conrad." She pressed, urging her son to follow me.

I caught Conrad's eye, and his expression was one of resigned annoyance. He followed me as I grabbed a shirt from a rack in the back of the boutique, the one with all the rejected and most hideous patterns. The offending shirt was a bright pink number covered in floral patterns—an unfortunate choice, but one that would make a statement.

"This should do," I said, holding up the shirt with a victorious grin.

Conrad's face turned a shade of red that almost matched the shirt. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Trust me, it's the only one that matches your... artistic endeavors," I replied, barely hiding my amusement.

As Conrad reluctantly headed to the changing room, I turned to Skye. "Please excuse me for a moment. I need to wash my hands." I muttered a string of curses for Conrad under my breath as I walked away.

Did he scare me? A little. More like his profession did. But I too was familiar with his line of work and all things to do with it thanks to my father. I was his little secret, a part of him that he wanted to keep safe and away from the eyes of their world.

In the sanctuary of the small bathroom, I scrubbed at the dye, my frustration evident in the forcefulness of my scrubbing. The cursing continued, supported by the violent splashes of water, until my hands were clean, though my mood was anything but. I looked at my face in the mirror, combing my fingers through my hair to make myself presentable.

"You can do this." I told myself strongly.

With a deep breath, I finally composed myself and headed back to the office. Conrad had emerged from the changing room, his face still reflecting his displeasure but now adorned with a shirt that was certainly eye-catching.

Even with the hideous shirt, he still looked handsome as ever. A small but discernible feeling of guilt poked at me as I continued to stare at him, but I brushed it away.

He deserved it.

I rejoined Skye and Conrad in the office, my demeanor as calm as I could muster. "Apologies for the delay," I said, trying to sound as professional as possible despite the chaotic start.

Skye smiled warmly, as if nothing had happened. "No harm done, dear. Conrad, I'm sure you'll grow to appreciate Theodora's unique sense of style."

Conrad gave me a resigned nod, and I returned it with a sympathetic smile. This was definitely going to be an interesting collaboration.

Skye took a seat in the plush chair positioned near the grand mirror, her posture regal. Conrad remained standing, his eyes scanning the boutique with a practiced vigilance.

"You can sit you know," I said as I approached them with my sketchbook, opening it to a series of detailed drawings.

"It's alright," He said scrutinizing me.

"These are beautiful," Skye said, examining the designs. "But I want something that truly stands out, something unforgettable."

I nodded, feeling the pressure of the task. "I understand. We'll make sure your dress is absolutely stunning."

"Excellent," Skye said, her eyes twinkling. "But there's one more thing. I need it ready in two days."

My heart skipped a beat. This was impossible.

"Two days?" My voice reflected my surprise. "Mrs. Maxwell, a dress of this complexity usually takes at least a week to perfect."

Skye's expression softened, but her resolve was clear. "The anniversary is a significant event for us. I'm sure you understand."

Conrad's gaze, sharp and perceptive, flicked to me. I caught his eye, and in that moment, I saw something unexpected—support, perhaps even encouragement. My mind flashed back to the times we had clashed, our mutual contempt obvious. But now, there was a new, unspoken understanding between us, a subtle change that made my pulse race.

"I'll make it happen," I said finally, determination lining my voice. I could do this. "The dress will be ready in two days."

Skye smiled, a gesture of both approval and gratitude. "I knew I could count on you, Thea."

I returned to work, my mind racing with the logistical nightmare I'd just agreed to. As I moved about the boutique, gathering materials and making adjustments to the designs, I couldn't help but notice Conrad's lingering presence. He watched me like a hawk, his expression unreadable.

"I can help, you know," he said, breaking the silence.

Bullshit. What did Mr. Mafia Prince know about fashion?

I looked up, startled. "Help?"

"With anything you need," Conrad clarified. "This is important to my mother, and I want to ensure everything goes smoothly."

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. The offer was unexpected, but it carried a weight that made me feel strangely reassured. "Thank you, Conrad. I appreciate that."

"This is wonderful darling. I love it!" Skye exclaimed as she reviewed the revised design. "Start working on it."

"Right away Ma'am."

Oblivious to the nuance between us, she stood and walked towards the door. "Thea, before we leave, I'd like to extend an invitation."

I blinked in surprise. "An invitation?"

"To the anniversary party," Skye explained, her smile genuine. "You've done so much for us, it's only right that you join us for the celebration."

My heart swelled with an unexpected warmth. "I'd be honored, Mrs. Maxwell. Thank you."

"Skye. Don't make me remind you again." I gave her a small smile as she corrected me.

As Skye stepped out of the boutique, Conrad lingered for a moment longer. Our eyes met, and this time, his smile was unmistakable. It was a smile that held a promise, a hint of something deeper. I felt my cheeks flush.

What the hell? No. No. I am not attracted to him.

A big fat lie.

"See you at the party, Thea," Conrad said, his voice low and intimate.

I nodded, my throat tight with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "See you then, Conrad."

As the door closed behind him, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The realization hit me with startling clarity: the dynamics between us had irrevocably changed. What had started as mutual animosity had evolved into something far more complicated—and infinitely more dangerous.

With renewed focus, I turned back to work, determined to create a dress worthy of Skye Maxwell. But in the back of my mind, I couldn't shake the image of Conrad's smile and the promise it held.

The line between duty and desire was blurring, and I knew that navigating this newfound attraction would require all the strength and resolve I possessed.

END OF CHAPTER FIVE: A FAMILY AFFAIR
2074 words

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