Page 5 of Softest Touch
CHAPTER THREE
DEREK
Discovering that Melinda studied and graduated from the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in California surprised me. I wonder why she didn't continue to cultivate her passion, but being a Jackson, perhaps her parents wanted her to follow in their footsteps. Her family is among the elite of Washington DC, and, honestly, I'm not sure why she wants to work for me. I like to think the princess grew tired of being spoiled and wants to try something new. However, the way she fought back against me erased that thought. I can't deny she's well-prepared and her skills are top-notch. Let's see if she can handle my hectic life too.
We sit down, and her scent distracts me. “Could I ask you a question? You don't have to answer if it's too personal,” I say, hoping she will.
She turns her eyes to me. “Please ask.”
I've tried to figure it out myself but couldn't wrap my head around it. “What perfume do you wear?”
She smiles, emotions playing in her eyes. “It's a perfume I created with my parents many years ago.”
Her words sink in. “Interesting, what's its name?”
Melinda shakes her head. “It doesn't have a name. It's not for sale.”
Now, my curiosity gets the better of me. “Really? Why?”
She takes a few seconds before a sad smile appears on her face. “My mom and dad died in an accident in their laboratory. This is one of the few memories I still have of them.”
“The JBL?” I ask, and she nods. Despite being a small company, the JBL’s perfumes were sensational, and in less than a year, they became known worldwide. When the accident happened, it took firefighters four days to clear the area and find her parents' bodies. It was a tragedy. Years later, I still remember those pictures.
Instinctively, I squeeze her hand. “I'm sorry; I didn't want to bring back sad memories. It's just that it's a fragrance you can hardly forget.”
Her eyes land on my hand, and I pull it away. “Memories, good or bad, are part of our baggage and make us who we are today.”
I nod. “True.”
* * *
Every year, we offer a six-month internship to two aspiring stylists who present us with something interesting, and today, I'm eager to see something that catches my attention. I pour myself another coffee as the first group of stylists begins to arrive.
“What do you think about it?” I ask Melinda, who turns to look at me, seemingly unsure if I'm genuinely asking her opinion or just joking.
“The truth?”
“Of course,” I reply. This is a test, and I want to see how straightforward she can be.
She ponders for a moment before speaking up. “I'm not thrilled with it. It's well-crafted but not unique. This dress is a combination of styles, but I don't see that particular touch that defines the designer who created it.”
“I agree,” I say to the young man who appears offended by her words. “You have good technique, but you still need to find your own style. It's fine to be inspired by others and follow trends, but you should create something original, not replicate others.” The young man thanks us and exits the meeting room.
An hour later, we still haven't found anyone. Melinda is attentive to details, and we manage to find harmony in our assessments. Despite her youth, this girl is better prepared than I initially thought.
Glancing at my watch, I realize another meeting will start soon, and I cannot miss it. I stand up, and Melinda follows suit. “Thank you all for being here. We'll resume tomorrow.” Everyone stands and bids us farewell as they leave.
The second meeting is interesting, even though I find myself occasionally distracted by glances toward Melinda. After another cup of coffee and two hours of slides and presentations, we manage to select some new events.
“Have you booked the tickets for New York?” I ask, checking the agenda as we head down to the tailor's shop.
“Actually, Mr. Wilson, I've done more than that. You'll be traveling almost twice a week for the next few months, and in my opinion, you would save money by chartering a private jet.”
I freeze in place, looking up from my phone. “What?” I ask her, thinking I must have misunderstood.
“I've only gathered some information,” she clarifies. “I would never book something so important without your consent.”
She hands me some quotes, and I realize she's right. She has not only researched renting but also leasing a jet. Typically, when we attend parades overseas, we rent one. I've always promised myself I would buy one, but I never got around to it.