“Your Highness!” a well-known German artist greeted him, shaking hands.
“Stefano—good to see you!” A famous model kissed him on each cheek, then, before Tess could decide to be jealous, the model kissed her exactly the same way and moved on to the next person.
A glamorous older woman with hip-length black hair walked by, trailing an entourage of wildly dressed young people. The woman paused when she saw Stefano.
“Your Highness,” she said, nodding her head briefly.
“Mrs. Sakurai,” he said, with the same respectful nod.
The woman glanced at Tess without recognition, then continued through the party with her entourage and a crowd of adoring fans in her wake.
Stefano turned to Tess. “That woman is—”
“Aiko Sakurai,” she breathed, staring after her. Stefano’s eyes widened.
“You know her?”
“I studied her in design school. She’s amazing. Her designs—” Tess shook her head. “I could only wish to be half so talented as her.”
“She’s older than you,” he pointed out. “She’s had more experience.”
“What she’s done as Zacco’s creative director isn’t just experience. It’s genius.”
“Yes, unfortunately. Thanks to her, Zacco’s valuation has gone up billions and become completely unaffordable,” he said grumpily. Catching himself, he looked down at Tess with a smile. “Come. There are others I want you to meet.”
For the next hour, they drank cocktails as he introduced her to CEOs and friends and journalists, all members of the international fashion jet set. They congratulated them on their marriage and were eager to meet Tess. No wonder, he thought. With his wife’s warmth and beauty and charm, not to mention the inherent star power of being the unknown working-class Brooklyn girl who’d managed to tame a playboy like Stefano, Tess was quickly the most popular person in the room.
Stefano watched Tess affectionately as she spoke earnestly to a famous South African designer. She wasn’t intimidated by anyone. She treated everyone the same, from billionaires to waitstaff. Stefano liked that about her. Her honesty, her kindness. Even at a party filled with some of the most gorgeous, glamorous people in the world, he thought, no one could hold a candle to his wife.
But where was their hostess? He scoured the crowd for Fenella Montfort’s tall, spare frame. He finally saw the woman talking to a prime minister and Rodrigo Cabrera, the Spanish media mogul.
Setting his jaw, Stefano went to join them.
“Good evening.” He nodded at each. “Your Excellency... Cabrera.” His eyes focused on his quarry. “Ms. Montfort.”
“I hear you’re married, Prince Stefano,” Rodrigo Cabrera said, his eyes glinting. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Actually, you should doubly be thanked, Cabrera, since I met my wife at your party.”
The Spaniard looked intrigued. “My party?”
“Last summer, in New York. You were celebrating some movie of yours that had just reached a billion dollars box office worldwide. Tess was a waitress there.”
“How extraordinary.”
“Yes.” But as Stefano spoke, he was wondering how he could speak with Fenella Montfort alone, though Zacco’s London Fashion Week party did seem an inappropriate venue to convince her to sell her shares.
She gave him a cold smile, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Excuse us,” she said abruptly to the other two men. “Prince Stefano and I have something important to discuss.”
“Of course,” said the prime minister with a bow.
“Congratulations again,” Rodrigo Cabrera said coolly. “Actually making it to the altar is quite an accomplishment.”
It seemed a strange comment, but Stefano forgot about it as he faced the woman who owned his family’s company.
“Prince Stefano,” she said coolly. “I’m so glad you brought your new wife. Such a fascinating creature.” She glanced toward Tess. “A true original.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” She jutted her sharp chin toward a young, dark-haired man flirting with models by the marble fireplace. “That’s my date. Bruno.”
“Ah,” he replied, unsure of her point. Why would he care about her date?
Fenella gave a laugh. “He’s a musician. But a good lover.” She paused. “I can’t imagine being stupid enough to marry him.”
Stefano’s shoulders tightened as he understood. She was insulting not just Tess, but also him, for marrying her.
What he didn’t understand was why. He barely knew Fenella Montfort. They were business acquaintances only. What could be the point of an attack that was so personal and so pointless?
He tried to keep his voice conciliatory. “As fascinating as it is to discuss our love lives, we need to talk about your shares.”
“Yes, we do.” She tilted her head. “Please tell your lawyers to stop bothering us. It’s tiresome.”
“We can raise the offer.”
“I don’t intend to sell. At any price.”
“You haven’t heard the new offer,” he said.
She shrugged. “I don’t need to.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you invite me tonight?”
“I wanted to tell you in person.”
“No. There’s something else.”
Fenella’s eyes gleamed. “You’re right, of course.” She tilted her head. “I’m throwing the fashion journalists a bone. Having you at the party gives them drama to write about. The handsome billionaire prince attending a party for the company his family lost. Your presence makes the Zacco brand seem even more valuable. That’s what really matters, isn’t it?” Watching him, she smiled. “The success of my brand.”
Her brand.
She’d lured him here as an insult, he realized. A taunt.
A rush of anger went through Stefano’s heart. He controlled it, giving her a ruthless smile. “In that case, I wish you good evening, Ms. Montfort.”
She sipped her champagne. “And you, Your Highness.”
Turning away stiffly, he set down his own half-empty glass and strode through the crowd of people until he found his wife. He took Tess by the elbow. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” She’d been having a good time talking to all the people around her. She looked disappointed. “Right now?”
“Right now,” he said grimly.
As the limo returned them to Mayfair, Stefano stared out at the sparkling London night.
The handsome billionaire prince attending a party for the company his family lost. Your presence makes the Zacco brand seem even more valuable. That’s what really matters, isn’t it? The success of my brand.
The memory of Fenella’s taunting voice echoed through him as they drove through the city. Tess, after a few attempts to talk to him, finally gave up. The evening, which had begun in such