Gie was possessed.
There was no other way to describe it.
The moment she saw that ring on his hand, something ignited in her—a fire she usually reserved for her most ambitious designs. The kind that kept her awake through the night, sketching, refining, creating.
But this time, the obsession had a name.
Alexander Millers.
He looked sinful in her work, like the piece had been made for him long before the commission ever existed. And now, she couldn't stop herself.
A ring wasn't enough.
He needed more.
She spent days—weeks—lost in the fever of creation. She ignored other commissions, skipped emails, left important pieces unfinished. Clients waited. Payments paused. She didn't care.
Because she was crafting something else.
A suit ornament. A bold, sleek accessory designed to fasten onto a lapel or the breast of a jacket. Not quite a brooch, not quite a pin—something custom. Something only he could wear.
The metal was dark, nearly gunmetal in its finish, with veins of deep red echoing the garnet of his ring. It was sharp, intricate. Subtle in size but commanding in presence. A statement without arrogance.
It was perfect.
When she finally set her tools down, her chest was tight with exhaustion and adrenaline. Her heart thudded as she stared at the piece.
And then, without a second thought, she locked it away.
Because this wasn't a commission.
It wasn't meant to be made.
She had no right designing another piece for a man who hadn't asked for it. Who hadn't acknowledged her beyond payments and one-line emails.
What the hell was she doing?
Forcing herself to breathe, Gie slipped the design into a special box—a collection of pieces that never saw the light of day. Her never-made collection. The impossible ones.
Then, she tried to move on.
Tried.
The phone rang as she was setting diamonds into a commission she'd actually been paid for.
She nearly ignored it, but when she saw the name flashing across the screen, she sighed and pressed accept.
"Marina."
"Gie!" Marina's voice was as smooth as champagne—exactly the tone you'd expect from someone who'd just married a celebrity and hadn't stopped glowing since. "Please tell me you've seen the absolute storm happening because of your necklace."
Gie rubbed her temple. "You mean the one you were supposed to wear? Yes, I heard."
"Was supposed to, yes," Marina said with a groan. "But guess who snatched it last minute? Lady freaking Gaga."
Gie paused. "Yeah. I was shocked when I saw it on her. How did you even...?"
"Yup. Yup." She interrupted her giggling. "The stylist brought your piece for me—my look—and Gaga saw it while they were prepping her lineup. Apparently, she fell in love with it. Next thing I know, she's wearing it to the Paris Gala like it was made for her."
Gie blinked. "You're kidding."
"I wish I was. But the photos are everywhere. It's gone viral, babe. Vogue, Harper's, red carpet breakdown channels—you name it. That necklace is the moment right now."
Gie leaned back, heart thudding harder than she wanted to admit. "I didn't even know she was using my stylist."
"She wasn't, technically. It was supposed to be for me. But you know how it is—last-minute chaos, celebrity egos, magic fittings. Once she put it on, there was no going back."
"And you just let her have it?" Gie asked, half-annoyed, half-incredulous.
"Oh please, like I had a choice," Marina said. "Also, she wore it exactly how I would've. So... I forgive her. Kind of."
Gie huffed a quiet laugh, dragging her fingers through her hair. "Unbelievable."
"I mean, come on," Marina added. "Your necklace, on Lady Gaga, at Paris Gala Week? That's an insane level-up. People are obsessed. High-end collectors are foaming at the mouth. The entire industry wants to know who made that piece."
Gie stared at the ceiling. "I already have clients."
Marina groaned. "Ugh. That again. You're a mystery, Gie. An untouchable legend. But you know what legends need? A face. A story. Interviews."
"No."
"Gie—"
"I don't do interviews, Marina."
There was a pause. Then a long, drawn-out sigh. "You're going to have to step into the light eventually."
"No, I won't." Gie swirled her coffee lazily. "My work speaks for itself."
"And that's exactly why people want to see you. You made something that stopped the fashion world in its tracks."
"Let them wonder."
"You're so damn stubborn."
"Thank you."
"Not a compliment, babe. The world is banging on your studio door, and instead of opening it, you're in there designing something probably ridiculous for a billionaire with too much money."
Gie flinched, eyes darting to the locked box.
Marina had no idea how right she was.
"Look," Marina continued, her voice softer now. "I get it. The mystery, the reclusive vibe—it adds to your brand. But don't you ever want to see it happen? Watch people admire what you've created?"
Gie's hand tightened around the edge of the table.
She didn't answer.
Because no—she didn't want to be there.
Because if she was, then it wouldn't just be about the work.
It would be about her.
And that was the one thing she never wanted.
Marina sighed, defeated but not surprised. "Fine. Be a ghost. But just know—if you ever change your mind, the world's waiting."
Gie smiled faintly. "I won't."
And with that, she hung up.
But the words lingered.
Obsession never fades.
No matter how many commissions Gie completed, no matter how many designs she poured herself into, that one piece haunted her.
The lapel ornament.
The veins of red. The dark finish. The way it would sit perfectly against a tailored jacket—
His jacket.
She had locked it away. Hidden it. But that hadn't been enough.
One evening, when she should've been working on a custom bracelet, her hands moved before she could stop them.
She opened the cabinet.
Took out the sketch.
Laid it in the center of her worktable.
And stared.
The design was already flawless. But her fingers itched to adjust the engravings. To refine the angles. To make it even better.
So she did.
She lost herself in the details again—tweaking, carving, visualizing how it would look in motion, how the light would catch the edges.
She didn't hear Alina come in.
"Oh my God, Gie. You're still on that?"
Gie barely looked up. "It's not finished."
Alina folded her arms, leaning against the workbench. "You've been obsessing over this for weeks. Why not just make it?"
"Because it's not for a client," Gie muttered, rubbing her forehead.
"So?"
"So it would be... pointless."
Alina rolled her eyes. "Please. Don't act like you haven't made pieces for the hell of it before. You don't always need a reason."
Gie hesitated. That was true. Some of her best work had come from moments of pure inspiration. Designs that existed simply because they needed to.
But this?
This wasn't random.
This was his.
Even if he never saw it. Even if he never wore it.
Even if he never knew.
The thought alone made her chest tighten.
Alina smirked, sensing something unspoken. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're making this for someone."
"I'm not."
"Oh, please." Alina laughed. "We both know who it's for."
"It's not for anyone."
Alina leaned in, voice teasing. "He's your muse now, isn't he?"
Gie stiffened. "Shut up."
Alina grinned. "You're obsessed, babe. And honestly? I love it."
Gie groaned and dropped her head onto the table.
Because she couldn't deny it anymore.
Alexander Millers had gotten under her skin.