Chapter 4 4

Morning sunlight filtered through the floor to ceiling windows of Mercer Industries, casting sharp lines across Harper's design studio. The day was already in full swing, with designers and seamstresses deep in their work. Soft chatter blended with the rhythmic hum of sewing machines, creating a steady pulse of productivity.

Harper adjusted the collar of a blazer on the mannequin in front of her, fingers smoothing over the fabric with practiced ease. The collection was coming together, but there were still countless details to finalize. Footsteps approached, deliberate and steady.

Holden.

She didn't need to turn around to know it was him. His presence carried a weight she had never quite learned to ignore.

"I signed off on the custom fabric orders," he said, stopping beside her. "You'll have everything by the end of the week."

Harper glanced at him, surprised by his efficiency. "That was fast."

"You're on a tight deadline."

He was too close, his scent-clean and undeniably masculine-curling around her like an uninvited memory.

"Appreciate it," she said, keeping her voice even.

Holden studied the blazer she had been working on. "This one's new."

"Finalizing the cut before we move to production."

His fingers brushed the lapel, barely a whisper against the fabric, but the movement sent a shiver down her spine. "You always had an eye for details."

Something in his tone made her tense. Nostalgic, almost.

"We should go over the showcase logistics," she said, shifting the conversation back to business. "I need to make sure the venue can handle last-minute adjustments if necessary."

Holden nodded. "My assistant will send you the final specs today. We'll do a walkthrough this week."

Professional. Efficient. Controlled. And yet, the space between them hummed with unspoken words. A voice interrupted the moment.

"Mr. Mercer."

They both turned to see Vivian standing at the entrance of the studio. Her sharp eyes flicked between them, cool and assessing.

Harper instinctively straightened, unwilling to let the older woman see even a hint of weakness.

"Vivian," Holden acknowledged, his expression unreadable.

Vivian's gaze lingered on Harper for a fraction too long before she turned her attention fully to her stepson. "A word. Now."

Holden exhaled, then nodded. "We'll continue this later," he told Harper before following Vivian out of the studio.

Harper watched them go, unease curling in her stomach. Holden walked beside Vivian down the sleek, glass-paneled hallway leading to the executive suites. The tension between them was nothing new.

Vivian closed the door to his office behind her and turned, arms crossed. "You're getting too close."

Holden leaned against his desk, unfazed. "Is that what this is about?"

"She's a distraction," Vivian said smoothly. "One you can't afford."

His jaw tightened. "Harper is the lead designer on this project. That's all."

Vivian arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "I've seen the way you look at her."

Holden forced a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. "And?"

Vivian's expression turned calculating. "Your father built this company on control. Strength. He never let emotion cloud his judgment."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I am not my father."

"No," she agreed, stepping closer. "But you carry his name. And with that comes responsibility."

Holden pushed off the desk, closing the distance between them. "Mercer Industries is thriving because of my leadership. Not because of outdated ideals."

Vivian tilted her head, considering him. "Then prove it. Don't let Harper Quinn be your weakness again."

His fists clenched, but he didn't respond. Vivian took that as a victory. "Make sure this project succeeds. And when it's over-let her go."

She left without waiting for a reply. Holden stood in silence, the weight of her words pressing against him like a vice. Harper sat on her apartment balcony that evening, a glass of wine in hand, the city sprawling beneath her. Lights flickered in the distance, casting a golden glow over the skyline.

She should have been thinking about the upcoming showcase. The designs. The logistics. Instead, her mind kept circling back to Holden. The way he had stood beside her in the studio, his voice dipping into something almost familiar. The way Vivian had appeared, eyes sharp with warning.

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her.

Lena: Tell me you're not working.

Harper smirked, taking a sip of wine before replying.

Harper: Technically, I'm drinking. Multitasking.

Lena: You need a distraction.

Harper: And you have one in mind?

A pause, then-

Lena: Dinner. Tomorrow. No work talk. Just you, me, and scandalous gossip.

Harper exhaled a small laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly.

Harper: Deal.

Lena always knew when she needed an escape. Shutting off her phone, she leaned back in her chair, letting the cool night air wrap around her. Holden Mercer had always been unfinished business. And whether she liked it or not, she wasn't sure that was ever going to change.