Ex Cried as I Wed a Tycoon

Chapter 88

Effie hurried off to her meeting and, as a result, never had a chance to look over the project brief.

By the time the meeting was over and she'd grabbed a quick lunch, the afternoon sun was already slanting through the office windows.

She was just settling in to finally review the materials when her assistant, Shirley, appeared at her door.

"Ms. Bagnold, your client is almost here. I hear she's a regular-very particular, though. Apparently, she's a dancer, but she's generous when it comes to pricing. Just a heads up: you might want to be extra careful with this one."

Shirley had a knack for knowing everything about everyone-a real office encyclopedia. She always seemed to have the inside scoop.

A dancer? The word caught Effie off guard. For some reason, Isabel's face popped into her mind.

Wasn't Isabel a dancer, too?

No, it had to be a coincidence.

Besides, there was no way Isabel would know anything about her. She was just another face in the crowd. Her marriage to Lyman was a tightly kept secret, after all.

off the thought.

please bring them to the conference room? I'll head over and get everything ready," Effie replied,

she thought. She wasn't nervous—after all, she'd designed jewelry for royalty and high society before, and they'd all left

designs weren't quite what they were looking for. As long as the criticism was constructive, Effie was grateful for

always had

wouldn't be difficult just for the sake of

reassured. She admired Effie-her time at the company hadn't been

elegance that couldn't be faked or imitated. Shirley always assumed she must come from a good background, a life of privilege, even though Effie never flaunted labels

anything, Effie was talented. Shirley had seen her design sketches- they were vivid, unique, and full of

then hurried off to make

tidied her desk, grabbed her sketchbook and notes, and made her way to the conference

settled into her chair when Shirley returned.

stood to greet

who walked through the door, she

be kidding, she thought. Speak of

really was Isabel.