Gregor Sabatini sat at his desk putting the final touches on a cashmere shawl he's been working on all week. The intricate lace edging set off the sheer thin weave of the cashmere, making this design, in Gregor's opinion, one of his best so far. He paused to stop and look.
"Greg. Get in here."
The phone intercom buzzed at him, breaking him out of the reverie that captured him so deliciously.
Jay.
And by the sound of the tone, he was upset.
Gregor reached for the intercom.
"No problems Jay. On my way."
Greg lifted the design and placed it in a small set of draws that sat to the right of his desk. He sat it lovingly on a pile of others; careful to ensure none of the papers could be damaged as he closed the draw. Taking his keys from his desk he locked the cabinet and all the designs in it, and placed the keys back in his pocket. He grabbed an empty design notebook, a dark felt pen, and left his office, locking the door behind him.
Letting his private secretary know that he was in Jay's office and not to be disturbed, he wandered down the modern marble tiled hall, past reception and the large silver plated lettering that said "Jay Miles" to the furthest end of the corridor. Models bustled past him out of one door and into another, followed by assistants with clipboards and long steel racks of clothes that seemed determined to bang into the walls. Greg stood to the side to let them all pass and continued his way down to Jay's office.
Without knocking, he walked in. Jay stood behind his desk, on the phone, and nodded briefly when his design partner of ten years walked in through the door.
"Fine, I'll see you in fifteen minutes. And I expect the investigation to start right away."
He hung up with more force than necessary.
Gregor sighed. Jay's temper reverberated throughout the entire fashion industry, but it was nothing compared to his paranoia. Intense security surrounded everyone who worked for him. Gregor never completely had the full story, but it had a lot to do with Jay's mother and some weird streak of bad luck Jay believed ran through his family. Already Greg could tell this would be another security issue.
"Lock the door behind you. I don't want anyone coming in while we're having this conversation."
Greg stood up and locked the door.
"Friend, is this really necessary? No one will come in but our secretaries, or those working on the shoot today."
A cloud darkened Jay's eyes and Greg could tell he was really upset this time. Usually Greg's calming influence made a difference to Jay, but it looked as though he'd need to humoured this time.
"None of that talk Greg. This isn't paranoia. Take a look."
Jay dropped a heavy pile of photographs at the front of his desk, forcing Greg to walk closer to examine them. Jay slumped into his chair and hid his head in his hands, his fingers running nervously through his dark shock of unruly hair.
He's really upset this time, Greg thought.
Sitting at the desk, still trying to exert some sort of calm on his friend Greg picked up the photographs. Instantly his brown knotted. These pictures didn't make sense. Greg flicked through more of them, speed taking him over along with a panic in the base of his belly as the pictures revealed their thousand words.
"But I don't understand. These are the full figured chic line. We haven't even finished this line yet. How could these designs have been made up, and who could have done this? This isn't even our studio. I can't tell where it is."
"It's Sutomi Lim's studio."
Greg looked up at Jay, shock reaching deep inside him now.
"What? Sutomi Lim? How did he get hold of our designs? Jesus Jay, tell me I am not seeing our only genuine competitor with our coup line that was going to change the face of fashion forever. Tell me this isn't what I'm looking at."
Jay was right. If this was what Greg thought it was, this was the biggest crises of their career.