“I see that.” Lifting Esme up in his arms, he hugged her, breathing in the sweet smell of the baby’s dark hair. His heart swelled with some emotion he didn’t recognize—pride? Yes. It had to be pride. “Buonanotte,” he whispered to her, then returned the baby to Ann Carter’s arms.
As the nanny went back to reading a book about a duck and a truck, Stefano hesitated in the hallway. To his surprise, he almost wished he could stay. He wished he and Tess could be the ones to cuddle with Esme, and read her the story about the duck. Let Ann Carter go to the Mercurio show.
But that was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Straightening the cuffs of his sleek black jacket, he checked his platinum cuff links and wondered which dress Tess had chosen to wear. Luckily his wife was so beautiful that she’d make even a washed-out, raggedy gown look good.
When he came out of the hallway into the main room, he saw Genevieve packing up. Tess was ready, wrapped in a long black cape. He frowned.
“So, which dress did you choose?”
A determined look came over her beautiful face. “It’s a surprise.”
“But you did find one.”
“Yes, I did.” Her gaze was evasive. “I need to say good-night to Esme.”
A moment later, they left his luxury apartment. Their bodyguard held an umbrella overhead to keep out the cold October drizzle, soft as mist. As their limousine drove them across Paris, Tess held her long cape carefully over her gown. She wouldn’t let Stefano see even an inch of it.
She obviously desired to reveal her dress dramatically on the red carpet, he thought. It might have amused him if the stakes hadn’t been so high. After all, how much surprise was possible, really? One beige dress was very like another.
Stefano looked out at the sparkling City of Light, thinking how important tonight’s event was, not just to Mercurio, but to him personally.
If Caspar von Schreck’s new spring collection was a success, then Mercurio would flourish. Which meant the stock of Stefano’s parent company, Gioreale S.p.A, would rise. He’d be able to use it as collateral to make a new, higher offer to acquire Zacco from Fenella Montfort.
But if tonight wasn’t a success...
His hands tightened.
It just had to be.
Caspar von Schreck was the best, he repeated to himself. He was the hottest designer in the world. Everyone said so. How could it possibly fail?
The limo finally pulled up in front of the glamorous palais where the Mercurio show was being held. With all the secrecy and buzz, it had become the most-anticipated event of Paris Fashion Week.
The bodyguard opened his door. Buttoning his jacket, Stefano smoothed a confident smile over his features and stepped out.
The rain had stopped. Crowds cheered, recognizing him. So far, so good. Giving the crowd a short wave, he turned back to Tess. As he helped his wife out of the limo and onto the red carpet, cameras flashed and reporters shouted questions.
Ignoring them, Stefano looked down at his beautiful wife. He felt a flash of comfort. At least, no matter what, she was completely on his side.
Looking nervous but determined, Tess lifted her chin, then dropped the long black cape onto the red carpet.
Stefano’s jaw dropped as he saw her dress.
Not beige.
Not ragged.
Not Mercurio.
Tess wore a shimmering, diaphanous emerald dress that flattered both her figure and her coloring. Her green eyes sparkled in the light. Her red hair tumbled down her shoulders, and her full, sensual lips were the color of raspberries against her pale skin. She looked like a star on the red carpet.
There was a gasp, a sudden whirl of paparazzi frantically taking pictures.
“What a beautiful dress, Princess! Is that from Mercurio’s new spring collection?”
“Incredible!” another reporter shouted. “What a triumph!”
Slowly Tess turned to look at him, her eyes pleading. From the corner of his eye he saw their bodyguard collect her cape from the red carpet. Cameras flashed.
Stefano was frozen in shock.
His wife wasn’t wearing a dress from Mercurio’s new line. She wasn’t wearing Mercurio at all—or Fortuna or any of the Gioreale brands. She wasn’t even wearing Zacco.
He’d seen this exact dress in her suitcase. Seen her sighing over it once or twice, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He knew exactly what it was.
This amazing dress was Tess’s own design.
It was unheard-of to go rogue at an event like this. If you were an important guest of a fashion house’s runway show, you always wore their clothes even if they were borrowed from the company. You wore them as a mark of respect, to play the PR game.
So what did it say that the CEO’s new wife had snubbed the Mercurio brand to wear her own hand-stitched designs?
“Beautiful dress, Your Highness!” one of the reporters called to Tess. “So that’s a preview of tonight’s show?”
Tess blushed, looking more beautiful than ever. “No,” she said shyly, “actually, it’s—”
“It’s her design,” Stefano said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “My wife is an amazing new talent.”
Tess looked shocked, but not as shocked as the reporters. Stefano knew, in supporting Tess, he’d seem to be insulting his own company and his new designer. Not only was Tess wearing her own clothes, but Stefano was outright promoting them on the red carpet instead of Mercurio’s!
But what choice did he have? He set his jaw. How could Tess have put him in this position? How could she stab him in the back, injuring Mercurio’s reputation when everything was on the line?
Reporters surged breathlessly forward. “Prince Stefano, are you saying—”
“Is Caspar von Schreck’s job in jeopardy, Your Highness?”
“Is the spring collection a disappointment?”
Baring his teeth in a smile, Stefano said, “We’re very proud of Mercurio’s spring line. And tonight, you’ll see it for yourself. That’s all. Thank you.”
Gripping Tess’s arm, he walked her down the red carpet, not letting her stop for any other shouted questions.
“Thank you, oh, thank you, Stefano,” Tess whispered. She took a shuddering breath. “I was so scared what you’d say, but I couldn’t wear those dresses, I just couldn’t—”
“How could you, Tess?” he said under his breath. “The press think I am snubbing von Schreck and trying to launch you as a designer!”
She sucked in her breath. “So why did you support me?”
“The alternative was to let them think we were already having problems in our marriage. I had to act proud of you!”
“Act?” She turned pale. “You mean you’re not?”
Stefano ground his teeth. “You’re talented, Tess. No one can dispute that. Your dress—” his eyes traced over her curves “—is spectacular.”
Her eyes lit up. “Then—”
“But you can’t seriously want to launch your own company. Do you want to work eighty-hour weeks in a studio, leaving Esme with a nanny? Do you know what it’s like for a child to be raised that way? Because I do.”
Her jaw tightened. “Have you forgotten I’ve spent most of Esme’s