Page 90 of He Knows When You're Awake

My preferred alcove is ready, with its leather banquette and views of both the room and the city lights beyond the centuries-old windows. A bottle of champagne is already breathing in an antique silver bucket.

“I didn’t even know places like this existed,” Sloane whispers aswe’re seated, her fingers trailing over the leather upholstery. “How did you find it?”

“You don’t find Gloria’s,” I tell her, watching her take in every detail with wide eyes. “Gloria finds you.”

She studies the room, then leans closer. “That’s the CEO of Richmond Tech at the corner table, isn’t it? And I swear I just saw Senator Matthews walk by.”

“The interesting ones are the people you don’t recognize,” I say, nodding toward a quiet man in the far alcove whose hedge fund could buy Richmond Tech ten times over. “The ones who prefer to stay out of the spotlight.”

The sommelier pours our wine, and Sloane immediately relaxes into the evening, the tension of the past month melting away. Between bites of her scallop appetizer, she can’t stop talking about the crown.

“You should have seen Hailey’s face when we tried the new setting technique.” Her eyes light up. “Everyone said black diamonds were too risky at that size, that they’d shatter, but—” She leans forward, lowering her voice like she’s sharing a trade secret. “We found a way to distribute the pressure points so perfectly that—”

She breaks off as our entrées arrive, the waiter setting down her duck with a flourish. I’ve never seen her this animated, this proud of solving what everyone said was impossible.

She breaks off as voices from the next alcove grow louder, cutting through the usual quiet murmur of the room.

“—completely unexpected. The whole company.”

“Moth to the Flame? I thought they were stable.”

“Complete collapse. Bankruptcy filing this afternoon. My broker called to warn me to dump the stock, but it was already too late.”

Sloane’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth as the conversation from the next alcove registers. She sets it down slowly. “Did they just say Moth to the Flame filed for bankruptcy?”

I meet her eyes. “I heard about it this afternoon.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Tonight was about celebrating you. Your collection. Your achievement.” I lean back, studying her reaction. “I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

She’s quiet for a moment, processing. Then she grabs her phone and starts typing rapidly.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, though her intense focus tells me she’s already forming plans.

“Marcus.” Her fingers keep moving across the screen. “And Sarah. The whole platinum workshop team, really. They’re artists, Cole. The best I’ve ever worked with, and now they’ll be scattered to whatever corporate jewelry chain will take them.”

I watch her add another name to her list. “You want to hire them.”

“I want—” She looks up suddenly, eyes bright with possibility. “I want to build something real. Not just my private studio but a proper workshop. A place that values craft over quarterly profits. Where talented people can actually create, not just churn out whatever tests well in focus groups.”

Watching her plan her next venture over a plate of duck confit at Gloria’s feels exactly right. She’s always ten steps ahead, seeing possibilities where others only see rubble.

“I have real estate holdings that might interest you,” I say casually. “A few historic buildings with good natural light.”

She pauses mid-bite, eyes narrowing. “How long have you been waiting to mention these buildings?”

“About thirty seconds.” I take a sip of wine. “Though there might be some equipment from a recent acquisition that could be useful too.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “Are you trying to be my angel investor, Mr. Asher?”

“I know a good investment when I see one.” I meet her gaze. “And you’ve more than proven your return potential.”

She traces the rim of her wineglass, and I catch a flicker of something in her expression. “If the collection is a hit.” Her voice is quieter now. “The reveal is in nine days and—”

“Stop.” I lean forward. “I’ve watched women’s faces when they try on your pieces. That crown alone...” I shake my head. “Every woman who sees this collection is going to want to wear it. Not just own it—wear it. Make it part of who they are.”

The confidence returns to her eyes, along with something fiercer. She picks up her wineglass again, a slight smile playing at her lips.