piece is passé!” Sebastian sniped, plucking at the rose-colored taffeta gown. “And who uses this fabric any longer?”
“No, it’s not passé. I designed this piece myself and I think it’s perfect for the grand finale.
“This gown gives the line a touch of elegance. I realize that taffeta is a material from a time long ago, but I want to re-create a 1940s-type feeling. A time of romance, and this gown depicts that era perfectly,” Lark said.
“Romance is overrated, and this gown’s above-the-ankle hemline is off-putting to say the least. Maybe you should stick to being the COO, hire a creative director and leave the designing to us professionals.”
“I have a degree from FIT in fashion design as well as an MBA from Harvard. I’m more than capable of running this company and designing a gown!” Lark sniped.
“Obviously your creative side isn’t as developed as your business side.” He took the dress off the rack and held it in his hands. “Look at this thing. The color is dull. The neckline is too high. Basically, it’s...it’s...just horrendous!”
Lark was quiet for a moment. “Why are you being so nasty, Sebastian? We’ve always worked so well together. What’s wrong? Are you having some type of personal issues? Did you and Peter break up?”
“He moved out, but I’m perfectly fine. My love life has never affected my work. Why are you trying to overrule me? I’m the lead designer. Or have you forgotten?”
His nasty remark incensed Lark. There was only so much more she could take from him. “And I run this company. Or have you forgotten?”
“Without my fabulous creations, RR would just be another wannabe design company manufacturing run-of-the-mill dresses,” he said.
Lark could feel her blood pressure rising. Not only was he insulting her design ability, but he was now also insulting the company her grandfather had founded. “That’s enough, Sebastian. This conversation is over!”
He clenched the gown in his hands. “No. What’s over is this hideous thing you call a gown. I’m not putting it in the show.”
“That’s not your call, Sebastian. As the creative director, the final word is mine,” Lark said, getting more frustrated by the second.
“Like I said before, you need to stick to management and leave the designing to the professionals,” he reiterated, further insulting his boss.
She took a deep breath in an effort to calm down. Their disagreement had gotten out of hand and it was time to put it to an end. She counted to ten in her head. Lark lowered her voice and measured her words. “Sebastian, the gown is going into the show...period. End of discussion.”
“If you put that thing in the show, it’ll ruin the collection. A collection I worked so hard to perfect, and I refuse to let that happen.” Sebastian began ripping the seams of the gown with his bare hands, destroying what Lark had created.
“Stop! What are you doing? You’re ruining my dress! You’re...you’re fired!” Lark screamed.
“You can’t fire me. I have a contract!” he said arrogantly.
“I can, and I did.” Lark exhaled. “Obviously your business side isn’t as developed as your creative side. There’s a clause in your contract that allows the company to buy you out at any given time—a clause that I designed, by the way. So you can pack up your things and leave today!”
Sebastian stood there in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t utter a sound. Finally he said, “What about the show?”
“Not your problem anymore. I think you need to start your own company, since you have such strong opinions on designs. It’s unfortunate, but we can no longer work together. I’ll have security escort you to your office so you can get your personal things.” Lark started to leave, but she turned back.
“In case you didn’t understand the legal jargon in the contract, there’s also a clause that states all of the designs you created while employed by RR are company property. If you try to take any sketchbooks or upload company files, I’ll have no choice but to sue you for breach of contract.”
“We’ll see about that! You can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ve invested too much time and energy in this company to just walk away.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Lark said calmly.
Sebastian made a hissing sound and stormed out of the room.
Lark hadn’t intended to fire Sebastian that day, but she wasn’t going to allow anyone to speak down to her and treat her with such blatant disrespect. Lark was more than a fair boss, and she didn’t have problems with any of the other employees. Although she ran a tight ship, the work environment at Randolph on the Runway was creative and productive.
“What’s the name of the designer who’s coming in at two?” Lark asked Angelica.
“Dash Migilio. I emailed you a copy of his résumé and bio. Also, here’s a hard copy.” She handed Lark a folder.
Lark opened the folder and scanned the information as she walked. “Impressive.”
When they reached the conference room, a tall man dressed in a gray European-cut suit was standing at the window with his back to the door. Lark cleared her throat and he turned around.
Lark took a good look at the handsome stranger. He had curly, coal-black hair, an olive complexion and warm, greenish-brown eyes. His face looked like that of a young Warren Beatty. Lark scanned the length of his toned physique. She could feel her throat becoming parched as she stood there staring at the gorgeous man. Normally, she wasn’t attracted to younger men, but this guy had her full attention.
“I’m sorry I’m early.” He walked toward Lark and extended his hand. “I’m Dash Migilio.”
“Hello. I’m Lark Randolph,” she said, still studying his chiseled face.
“I know. I’ve seen your picture in the trades numerous times. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” He beamed a bright white smile.
Even his teeth are perfect, Lark thought. “Please have a seat. This is Angelica, my assistant, and she’s going to sit in on the meeting.”
“Nice to meet you, Angelica,” he said, extending his hand.
And he’s polite, too!
After they were seated at the conference table, Lark took a breath and refocused. She had been momentarily taken aback by his good looks and charm, but now she needed to move on to business. She glanced down at his résumé.
“I see that you interned at Ralph Lauren.”
“That was during my senior year at Pratt. I worked closely with several designers there. The experience was invaluable.”
“After graduation you worked with Andrew Marc for a few years.”
“Yes, I was a junior designer and learned a great deal about the outerwear business.”
“You’ve only been employed by male designers. Do you have a problem working with women?” she asked point-blank.
“Not at all,” he said, smiling.
Ohh...I could get lost in that smile of his.
Lark cleared her throat, trying to free her mind of unprofessional thoughts. “There’s a twelve-month gap on your résumé. Why?” she asked.
“I spent a year in Italy at my family’s estate. I’m a first-generation New Yorker. My parents are from Florence, where they own a textile mill. The plant manager had retired, so I took over until they could find his replacement. They eventually promoted the assistant manager, but I stayed on for a while. I love Italy and enjoy spending time there whenever I can.”
“So