So I stay in motion. I smile at them all. I shake hands, kiss cheeks, and sit down opposite Rafe at the table. The conversations around the table are mostly in French, but several seem to prefer English. Thankfully, the woman beside me does, andI find out she’s Rafe’s chief financial officer at Maison Valmont.
Wonderful.
She asks me about Mather & Wilde, not about Rafe. I can talk about my family’s company forever, so I lay out all the issues we had under Ben. She probably already knows them—she has access to our reports—but it sets the stage for talking about ideas to get the company back on its feet.
She listens intently and asks clever questions. Questions thatdon’tseem to hint at gutting the place to the studs.
Opposite me, Rafe is the undisputed king of the table.
There’s not a single person here who doesn’t in some way report to him. That’s a dizzying thought. I glance over a few times, but he looks perfectly relaxed. Dark hair pushed back, shirtsleeves folded up, and an easy expression on his face.
I drink more wine than I should. The food is delicious, prepared by the chef I glimpsed in the kitchen, all cheese-drenched pastas and light salads. After it’s over, people get up to mingle about. No one seems like they’re about to leave, despite the sun having long since set.
Italian music rings out through the speakers.
I’m handed a chilled shot glass of limoncello by a man who turns out to be Valmont’s head of global marketing. That means he’s also in PR, except if this was a video game, he’d be about twenty levels above me.
“Are company parties always like this?” I ask him. Business conducted with a drink in one hand and a cannoli in the other.
He smiles. “In the summer? Yes. No one wants to sit in an office when the weather is like this!”
“Do you come to Como every summer?”
“Yes, yes, always. Raphaël is here most summers,” he says, and I wonder if he’s like a king of old, with his court moving palaces with the seasons. “I’m very curious about you, you know. Will you tell me the story?”
I launch into a combination of half-truths and outright lies. These people are all wolves. I know that. They’re part of Rafe’s pack, and combined, they have systematically taken over, consolidated, and grown the world’s largest luxury business.
I might not like their methods. Not when it came to my family company, certainly. But there’s no denying they’re legends in the industry.
Therearebrands they’ve saved from the brink of ruin. Theydohave a large philanthropy section. That doesn’t make Rafe any less ruthless. But it does mean that I’d be an idiot not to try to win these people to my side.
Mine, and Mather & Wilde’s.
The sun has long since set when Sylvie and Leelyn finally show up. I’m on my too-many-to-count glass of champagne, sitting between a procurement officer and one of Valmont’s new young designers. They’ve asked me about the marriage, and I’ve managed to make our storyfarmore convincing. In my current iteration, Rafe and I have a shared love of old ’90s movies.
I’ll have to tell him later.
Sylvie pulls me aside as soon as she sees me. She’s in a black tailored suit, no shirt, and it’s open all the way down to her navel. Her hair is loose and flowing today, and she’s put on dramatic eyeliner.
God, she’s cool.I tell her that, my hand on her shoulder. I want to be just like her when I’m fifty-something.
“And you’re impressive,chérie.It looks like you’ve got all these people eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“I’m trying,” I admit.
She laughs. “Andyou’re forthright. Good. I like that in people. It’ll be fantastic for Rafe.”
“Most of them probably think Rafe and I got married for business,” I say, and I’m probably getting far too talkative. “It’s a weird feeling, to talk to people and have them mistrust you.”
Sylvie nods slowly. Her eyes are a little too sharp, and I don’t think she’s near as tipsy as me. “I can see that. Let’s get another glass, Paige, and you can introduce me to all your new friends.”
“You probably know them all already,” I say.
“Non,”she replies. “But they know of me, of course. I usually ignore Raphaël’s little business soirees. I prefer the more artistic types. People who can’t do math, you know? Those are my people.”
A smile breaks across my face. “I spoke to the head of finance earlier. She was very nice.”
“Bah, I won’t believe it until I’ve seen it,” Sylvie says, and puts her arm through mine. “Let’s go hunting.”
