“I am.”
Vivian stepped closer.
“You think you can stand there with that little measuring tape and act like you’re somebody?”
Elena’s eyes flicked briefly to the dress.
“I think we should stop handling it until the damage can be documented.”
“Oh, now you’re giving orders?”
“I’m trying to prevent further damage.”
Vivian’s mouth twisted. “You’re going to be fired before this store closes.”
The threat carried the confidence of someone accustomed to seeing doors open at the sound of her name.
“I’ll make sure you never work in luxury retail again,” Vivian continued. “I know people. I know the people who own this company. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Elena’s expression did not change.
“Perhaps you should ask the regional manager to join us,” she said.
Vivian laughed. “You think I need a manager to deal with you?”
She raised one hand, fingers spread, and reached toward Elena’s shoulder.
That was when the regional manager came rushing from the fitting-room corridor.
“Vivian—”
He stopped.
His gaze moved from the torn dress to the tools scattered across the table, then to Elena’s hand pressed against her hip. Finally, he looked at Vivian’s raised arm.
His face drained of color.
“Mr. Harlan,” Vivian said, turning toward him with immediate relief. “Thank goodness. Get this woman away from me.”
The regional manager, Daniel Harlan, did not move.
“Vivian,” he said quietly, “what happened?”
“She destroyed my dress, and now she’s being insolent. I want her removed immediately.”
Daniel glanced at Elena.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m all right,” Elena replied.
His eyes remained on her for a fraction longer than necessary. Then he turned back to Vivian.
“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“There is no misunderstanding. She ruined a gown that cost more than her car.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Vivian, I need you to listen carefully.”
She folded her arms. “I’m listening.”
He looked at the employees and shoppers gathered around the tailoring table. His voice lowered, but the boutique had become so silent that everyone heard him.
“She isn’t the tailor anymore.”
Vivian gave an impatient sigh. “Then what is she? The assistant manager? I don’t care. She’s finished.”
Daniel’s eyes moved to Elena once more.
“She owns this store.”
For a moment, Vivian appeared not to understand the sentence.
Then she laughed.
It was a brittle, incredulous sound, utterly out of place beneath the chandelier.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Daniel did not smile.
“She completed the purchase of the entire fashion company yesterday afternoon.”
The laughter vanished.
Elena stood beside the tailoring table, one hand resting lightly against its polished edge. Her hip still throbbed where it had struck the wood, but she felt no need to show it.
Vivian stared at her.
Then at Daniel.
Then back at Elena.
“You’re joking.”
“No,” Daniel said. “I’m not.”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed. “Who is she?”
“Elena Marquez,” Daniel replied. “The new owner and chief executive.”
The boutique seemed to tilt around Vivian.
She glanced at Elena’s blazer, the measuring tape, the tiny gold earrings, the simple black shoes. She looked at the woman she had just insulted, shoved, and threatened to have fired.