Chapter 78: The Perfect Sweet Man

Abigail, convinced by Luna's words, stopped overthinking. Having finished the pattern that morning, she needed to take it to Joan, the designated model, to confirm the measurements. After lunch, she carried the pattern to Joan's room, only to find it empty. Inquiring, she learned Joan and several other designers and models were in the garden. She went there, still carrying the pattern.

Joan greeted her with a smile. "Why did you bring that, Miss Quinn?"

"You're the model; I need your help checking the fit," Abigail replied calmly.

Joan, seated in a garden chair, fanned herself gracefully. "I'm sorry, but I'm in the middle of a photoshoot. Can you wait a while?"

Nearby designers and models watched, some mocking.

Abigail approached, her demeanor imposing. "Miss Smith needs you to confirm the measurements before starting the sample. Give me ten minutes."

Joan, with furrowed brows and impatience, retorted, "My schedule is full. You should have notified me earlier. Luna's matter isn't the only important thing."

"Then how long will it take?" Abigail asked indifferently, avoiding an argument.

"I'm thirsty. Can you get me a soda?" Joan said, taking a selfie.

Nina interjected, "Oh, and Miss Quinn, could you also get me a box of Felo brand ice cream?"

"Will you cooperate then?" Abigail asked Joan dispassionately.

Joan was disgusted by Abigail's attitude. Even with the upper hand, she felt no satisfaction; instead, she found Abigail's aloofness and disregard infuriating.

After a while, Abigail returned with the soda. "Drink this, then we can take your measurements."

"Where's my ice cream?" Nina demanded.

Abigail looked at her coldly. "Who are you to me? Am I your servant?"

Nina's face turned pale.

After taking a sip, Joan stood. Despite her displeasure, she smiled sweetly. "Come on. Let's do it."

With a cold expression, Abigail began taking measurements. However, upon finishing the sleeves, Joan declared, "Let's go to the pavilion; it's too hot here, and I don't want my makeup to melt." Without waiting for a response, she tore off the pattern, handing it back before confidently walking away.

Nina watched with a triumphant expression, following Joan. After walking a short distance, Joan instructed Abigail, "Move those chairs. Then get me some fruit and ice cream. We'll continue when it cools down. I don't want to sweat and smudge your pattern."

Off-camera, Abigail remained cautious. Designers couldn't use phones, but models had internet access. What were they planning?

Victor's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Let me help you. If you don't comply, Joan won't cooperate."

Abigail looked at him coldly. "Aren't you afraid your designer will be angry?"

"If she is, I won't work with her. Don't worry," he replied, already moving the chairs with a smile. "Your leg is injured, and she made you move chairs—it's an attempt to worsen your injury."

Remembering his previous help, she nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

He carried the chairs away. After tidying the pattern, she followed.

Meanwhile, Sean watched from the hotel's floor-to-ceiling windows—Abigail and Victor chatting and laughing—with icy eyes. Cameron nervously glanced at him, noting his intimidating demeanor before quickly looking away.

After a while, Sean left. In the banquet hall, he found Victor and Abigail washing fruit. She was in a good mood, chatting animatedly.

Though Sean was in the private kitchen, she didn't notice him. As she finished, she turned to leave.

Victor approached, steadying her. "Be careful. The floor is slippery."

Note: I removed the asterisks from the words "dispassionately" and "assistant" as they were unnecessary and disrupted the flow. I also made several minor adjustments to phrasing for clarity and improved sentence structure.