Lately, something far worse than dislike floods my senses whenever Giovanni walks in a room: awareness. Inoticehim. Ifindhim. I find him noticing me. And then we’re justawareof each other, in a way that feels like a hushed secret instead of a loud grievance. Our stares forget to fight. Our sharp edges soften into something so smooth, it scares me. It unmoors me. It…
“We’re here,” Giovanni’s voice interrupts, and I redirect my gaze to the doors opening directly into Lamont’s suite.
My eyes widen in shock. I check in with my body, realizing the adrenaline I’m feeling isn’t due to panic, but to something else entirely. I face Giovanni, blinking at the grin on his lips. Pride flickers in his eyes, and I can’t help but to match his smile with one of my own.
Feeling a burst of confidence, I follow him into the suite, ready to impress Lamont with my presentation.
We sit at a round table in the living area of his large, ornate suite. A massive run-of-show board is displayed on a standing easel with a picture of every look. We walk through the audio/visual and production details first, then each designer has the opportunity to present updates on any looks they designed. Last minute changes, needed alterations, and instructions the models will need for tomorrow are discussed at length.
Suspense builds in my chest as I wait for my turn. Because Lamont already selected my design, none of this feels as painful as standing around the table with the junior designers, waiting for his judgement. In fact, I feel excited. The design has been executed flawlessly. I know it’s stunning. I’ve been preparing for this moment, and I’m ready to meet it.
“And that brings us to the finale. Giovanni, Tessa. Go ahead.” Lamont slides his emerald glasses down his nose, and his eyes meet mine.
I clear my throat. “This look is built for runway impact. The movement of the dress is nearly wave-like and will pull the audience in from the start. I checked with the crew today to ensure the lighting will dim ever-so-slightly as the model walks.” I pause for a moment and glance at Giovanni, who’s nodding beside me. He doesn’t cut in, clearly giving me the floor, but his silent-yet-steady support forms a new thought. Maybe he didn’t want to prepare together because he wanted me to have this moment.
I throw him a small grin and continue. “The embroidery will do a lot of the storytelling for us, and when she hits?—”
“That’s fine, Tessa. Giovanni, will you take us through the beadwork?”
Chapter 12
Giovanni
“Idon’t believe Tessa was done speaking.”
I face her, and frown when I see her downturned lips. “Were you done speaking?”
“It’s all good,” she says. But she doesn’t soundall goodto me.
I raise an eyebrow in question. “Tessa?”
She nods. “You should cover the embroidery, anyway.”
I wasn’t planning on it. Tessa’s a skilled presenter and could recite the beading details in her sleep by now. But I don’t want to extend the awkward moment any longer, so I pick up where she left off.
“The opal Miyukis will catch the light as the gown walks. The model should hit a longer beat to show off the appliqué at the top of the runway.” I pause for a beat. “When she turns around, it’ll bemagic,” I add, using Tessa’s word.
When I wink at her, a bit of color flushes back into her cheeks. At the sight of her smile that follows, the tension in my shoulders eases. The feeling of accomplishment, knowing I had a hand in bringing the light back into her eyes, does something to my chest I can’t explain.
Lamont drums his fingers on the table. “Make sure to connect with the model to emphasize the side profile as well, so the full shape is highlighted. Solid choice, Giovanni. The top of the arc softens the back.”
A grin finds its way to my face as I remember the passionate back and forth with Tessa to land on the fan shape. I nod toward the brilliant woman beside me. “I agree. But the fan shape was Tessa’s suggestion.”
Her smile deepens, and she straightens in her seat. Her lips part, then?—
“Gracious of you, but it has your stamp all over it,” Lamont casually replies.
Every muscle in Tessa’s face seems to sag at the same time. Her body slumps along with her expression, drooping down into the chair. As if the devastation painted across her face wasn’t painful enough, shesmiles. A fake, practiced, polite smile that immediately enrages me.
Heat rises in my chest at my indignation on her behalf. “ItwasTessa’s?—”
I’m cut off by a hand—herhand—on my knee under the table. She gives a small, dejected shake of her head.
Lamont tilts his chin toward Tessa. “Did you have anything to add to Giovanni’s final commentary?”
Tessa replies with only a muted, monotone “no.”
Frowning in feigned concern, Lamont exhales in Tessa’s direction. “You look unwell. We can’t afford any other sicknesses. Why don’t you get some rest?”
