“But the after-party’s at Milano Cocktail Bar, your favorite spot in the city.”
“Like I said, I have other plans.” Jiovanni took his cell phone out of his pocket and swiped his finger across the screen. “I met a woman last night at the Blue Note jazz bar, and I’m taking her to the new French restaurant in the Bicocca.”
As Zoe listened to Jiovanni boast about his flavor of the week, her gaze fell across the web page on her computer, and she clicked it. An image of Romeo Morretti filled her screen. At lunch, as she’d sat at her desk eating the steak panini she’d ordered from a nearby deli, she’d read several articles about him, and even watched a documentary about his family. The Morretti family was an accomplished, successful bunch who donated their time, money and resources to worthy causes. But it seemed the more money Romeo made, the more ostentatious he was. Sure, he gave generously to charity organizations, but former employees painted him in a bad light.
And they weren’t the only ones.
The interview his ex-fiancée had given to the tabloids was so outrageous, Zoe had abandoned her lunch and soaked up every juicy word. There were thousands of pictures of him online with his billionaire clients, supermodel dates and equally attractive family members. To her surprise, Romeo traveled more than a flight attendant. He was in Spain when his brother Emilio won his fifth Formula One championship, on hand when his cousin Demetri smashed another baseball record in the Windy City, at the opening of Dolce Vita Dubai to support his cousin Nicco, and the dutiful best man at his brother Markos’s glamorous, over-the-top wedding in LA.
Zoe wet her lips with her tongue. Staring at the images of Romeo, she decided the photographs didn’t do him justice. They failed to capture his energy, his zest for life. Truth be told, she was intrigued by him. He was such a force, so charismatic, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. No surprise. Like every other woman in the city, she was attracted to his dashing good looks. Not that it mattered. Nothing would come of it. They didn’t travel in the same social circles, and Zoe had a better chance of winning Milan Idol than making a love connection with one of the richest men in the country.
“Before I go, I want you to check out these outfits I designed specifically for you.” Jiovanni grabbed the garment bag off the chair, unzipped it and marched around the desk. His confidence was evident in his broad I’m-the-man grin. “Mi amore, prepare to be blown away...”
Finding clothes that fit her hourglass figure in local stores was impossible, but Zoe could always count on Jiovanni to hook her up. Raised by a single mother and three older sisters, he understood women and appreciated the female body. From the moment Aurora had introduced them they’d clicked, and when his mother died unexpectedly last summer they’d grown even closer. He’d said she was his rock, the only person he trusted explicitly. His words had touched her heart. They’d never be lovers, but they’d be friends for life.
“What do you think? Did I hit it out of the park, or completely miss the mark?”
Zoe admired the outfits. Each one was impressive, and she couldn’t decide which one she liked best—the beaded dress with the plunging neckline; the one-shoulder gown with the frilly red bow, or the navy pantsuit with the floral-print design along the waist. Overcome with emotion, Zoe gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Jiovanni. I love all of them, and I’m honored to wear your amazing designs.”
Dropping into a chair, he clasped his hands behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Prove it. Try them on, mi amore. Go ahead. Give me a show.”
“With pleasure.” Zoe grabbed the garment bag, draped it over her forearm and entered the bathroom. Much to Jiovanni’s delight, she modeled each outfit, but when she sashayed out of the bathroom in the navy pantsuit, he cheered.
“That’s it,” he said, jumping to his feet. “That’s what you should wear tonight.”
“Are you sure it’s not too sexy?” Zoe adjusted her cleavage.
“You have a great body and beautiful décolletage, so flaunt it.” Jiovanni wore a proud smile. “I love to see you in my clothes. You make them come alive.”
To complete her look, Zoe opened the closet and searched through her wooden jewelry box for the right accessories. Zoe often went straight from work to industry functions, and had everything she needed at her disposal. Taking Jiovanni’s advice, she selected teardrop earrings and a rhinestone necklace and bracelet. As she did her hair and makeup, he snapped pictures of her with his cell phone. With billions of people on social media every day, Zoe knew how important it was to give fans an intimate, behind-the-scenes look at Casa Di Moda and encouraged him to upload the images immediately.
“You look incredible,” Jiovanni praised. “All eyes will be on you at the premiere.”
Putting on her stilettos, Zoe admired her appearance in the full-length mirror beside the bookshelf. She felt sophisticated in her chic ensemble, and Zoe was so anxious to hit the red carpet at Anteo spazioCinema, she decided to call it a day. The premiere didn’t start for another three hours, but she wanted to get there early to live-stream interviews with the cast. As publicity director it was her job to promote Casa Di Moda, and she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to rub shoulders with A-list celebrities, entertainment reporters and TV personalities.
Her desk phone buzzed, and the receptionist’s voice filled the office.
“Hi, Zoe, sorry to bother you, but I need you at reception. You have a visitor.”
Jiovanni rose to his feet. “Duty calls, huh?”
“Hopefully it’s the blogger I spoke to yesterday,” Zoe said, logging off her computer. “I want her to do a piece on Casa Di Moda and invited her to come by today for a tour.”
Zoe grabbed her purse, turned off the lights and waved goodbye to Jiovanni. Hustling toward the reception area, she mentally rehearsed what she was going to say to the popular fashion blogger. Zoe hoped the online article would help boost sales, because just the thought of losing the best job she’d ever had made sadness fill her heart.
The Casa Di Moda reception area was noisier than a train station, and the scent of coffee and expensive perfume wafted through the air. Telephones buzzed and staff members chatted in the hallway. Deliverymen shuffled in and out, carrying oversize boxes and packages.
As Zoe reached the entrance, she noticed a gift bag, a flower bouquet on top of the U-shaped desk and a mountain bike with a gigantic red bow propped against the far wall.
“Great, you’re here,” the receptionist said brightly, gesturing to the items with a nod of her head. “These things are for you. Do you want me to help you carry them to your office?”
“They are? But I didn’t order anything online. Where did they come from?”
A slim man with a thick mustache appeared at Zoe’s side and bowed in greeting. “Ms. Smith, these gifts are from Mr. Romeo Morretti. His sincere hope is that everything is to your liking.”
Stunned, all Zoe could do was nod in response. Peeking inside the bag, she pushed aside the tissue paper. Her eyes wide with disbelief, she admired each item—the crocodile leather, Chanel handbag with the shiny diamond clasp, the floral-print dress almost identical to the one she was wearing that morning, and a Samsung cell phone and tablet. Why would Romeo do this? I caused the accident, not him, so why did he buy me thousands of dollars’ worth of gifts? Her head was spinning as she struggled to understand what the gentleman was saying.
“Mr. Morretti wishes to extend his deepest apologies for the incident that happened this morning, and hopes that you will accept these presents as a sign of his deep remorse.”
“What incident?”
Aurora appeared at the reception desk with Davide at her side. The couple wore designer outfits and