Chapter 6: A New Beginning

Vanessa's POV.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Emma all but shouts when I tell her about the meeting with Sergie Ivanov. "Sergie Ivanov!? The russian who built that impeccably awesome Jewellery and Fashion company. Ivanov designs reached out to you?!"

"Believe me, Em. I didn't even know who he was at the exhibition. I just approached him because he stood at my painting. Hell, I didn't even know he was someone so important!" I sighed out, sipping my coffee. We were at Emma's house. Her fiancé had gone out for work and I needed light to sketch this piece. Fir some reasons, after the meeting with Sergie Ivanov, I've been sketching different jewelry pieces. They all turned out too hollow.

"You met him at the exhibition? Gosh, Nessa, I think I should introduce you to intense social media. How can you not know Sergie Ivanov? I'm certain as hell, he is the one who purchased Falling Forward." She shakes her head and keeps typing on her phone. I'm sure she's texting West, her fiancé. They weren't even married yet, but they couldn't get away from each other.

"I doubt." I shook my head then raised the finished sketch in the direction of the sitting room light, "I didn't see it at his office or anywhere at all in the building." I pause then turn the design to Emma. "How is it?"

Emma collects the piece and stares at it for some time before nodding her head, "It's lovely. Sending as draft? I thought you hadn't accepted?"

"I haven't." I collect the piece back, "That's why I'm here, Ems. What do you think? I don't know if I can bring anything worth for that company. What did he see in my painting, anyway?" I mumbled the last sentence stroke question and was sure as hell Emma heard it because of the look she gives me. I sigh. "I can't help it, I practically got insulted because of Van."

"That's Van, not Falling Forward. And besides, someone purchasing your work is enough to show you have some worth, girl! We got to work on your low self esteem and finding you a husband."

I roll my eyes, there she goes with it again. "We are not finding a husband, Ems. I'm still young." I keep the piece to the side and move in to begin sketching another.

"Young? Bitch please, you're twenty four! When do you want to get married then, thirty?" She shouts but I only chuckle.

"There's a quite possibility to that. I'm not rushing marriage anyway, I'm focusing on my career. I want to get a name for myself. Vanessa Miller, the wonderful artist of New York!" I demonstrate exaggeratedly with my hands while imagining. It sounds good, too good, only that it's still far.

"That sounds lovely, V, and I tell you. You'll get that name." I look up at her, my only friend practically. I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have Emma. "You never know, maybe collaborating with Ivanov Designs is a blessing in disguise. Maybe it's the key to unlocking that wonderful name for yourself. Why don't you try it hm? If things don't work out we'll, you're free to leave. West is a wonderful lawyer, so nothing will happen." She reassured me then bent and kissed my cheeks.

"I wonder if there's ever a time we've had a conversation that you haven't brought up West." I shake my head with a small smile playing. "It's been like that since highschool. Gosh I admire you guys. You're so impeccably in love."

"Oh please stop " She flushes while laughing and raises her hand up to look at her left finger that held the ring, with all those love emotions in her eyes. Something I don't think I'll ever have in my own eyes. "So what do you say? You accepting Ivanov's offer?"

I nod, I doubt it's possible to refuse. I'm not in a good financial state to refuse even. "Yes. I'm accepting it, Ems. I'll call his executive assistant to tell him about it later. I hope it goes smoothly."

"It will." She said, then stood up, making her way to the kitchen. "Let me prepare something for us, I'm famished."

I laugh and turn on my phone to look at the time, it was still the early hours of noon.

★

The next day.

The Ivanov Designs headquarters looked before me, it's sleek glass façade shimmering in the midday sun. I clutched my bag as Emma's words of encouragement from the previous day replayed in my mind like a mantra.

You'll get that name, Vanessa. This is your chance. She said,

Still I couldn't stop the anxiety bubbling in my chest.

I adjusted my blazer—an oversized black one that I thrifted last year—and smoothened the crisp white blouse underneath. Paired with fitted charcoal slacks and my worn out ankle boots, it was the closest I could get to professional chic. It wasn't designer, but it would have to do.

Steeling myself, I walked through the revolving doors.

Inside, the lobby was every bit as intimidating as the last time. Marble floors gleaned under the natural light streaming through the windows. I walked towards the receptionist desk.

The receptionist, the same poised woman from before greeted me with a polite smile. "Miss Miller, welcome back. Mr Wright is expecting you."

I nodded, murmuring a quick thank you before she gestured towards the elevators. And I entered inside, pressing the button for the last floor.

The ride to the top felt longer than necessary, my nerves amplifying every second. By the time the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, my palms were already damp despite the chill of the air-conditioned space.

Julian Wright greeted me in the hallway, his smile as polished as his tailored suit. "Miss Miller, welcome and thank you for choosing to work with us. Mr Ivanov is eager to discuss the project with you. Please follow me."

"Thank you," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag and falling into a step behind him.

As we walked, I couldn't help but notice the details I'd missed before: the intricate art pieces lining the hallways, the subtle luxury in every corner. It was like stepping into a museum curated by someone with impeccable taste, and unlimited resources.

Julian led me into that same spacious conference room with floor to ceiling window offering the perfect view of Manhattan. Sergie Ivanov was already there, standing by a glass table, his back to the wall as he scrolled through something on his tablet.

He turned as we entered, his sharp blue eyes immediately locking onto mine. His expression was neutral—bordering on cold—but there was a subtle intensity in his axe that made my stomach flip.

"Miss Miller," He said, his voice as smooth and co

ntrolled as I remembered. "I'm glad you decided to join us."