The VPs office door was open. “Henry, ciao.”
Henry pushed out of his chair, shook Luciano’s hand. “Thank you for coming down. Did you want to make a speech?”
Luciano did not. He wanted to find the monster who was terrorizing ALPHA, but he painted on a smile. “Of course.”
“It’s gonna make their day.”
The men walked into the bullpen—rows of cubicles filled the large room. Luciano waited while Henry gathered the team.
“Whose desk can I stand on?” Luciano asked.
“Mine,” offered up an employee.
“Grazie.” Luciano removed his shoes, climbed on the desk, shot the group a friendly smile.
“Ciao,” he began. “I want to congratulate you on an outstanding quarter. Your achievements are a direct result of your efforts, working smart, and fostering lasting relationships with our customers. You are the front line. Without your hard work, the beautiful clothing lines we create would gather dust. Grazie e il mio sincero apprezzamento. Thank you and my sincere appreciation.”
Several employees thanked him. He acknowledged them with a nod before stepping down. He slipped into his Santini Italian leather loafers, shook a few hands, kissed a few women on their cheeks—ignored their breathy sighs—shook Henry’s hand again, and headed toward the elevator.
He hadn’t been back in his office two minutes when his assistant appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Santini, you have a visitor. Allaya, one of our models, wants a word.”
He had no idea who Allaya was. “Stay,” he told Dominic.
“Of course.”
His assistant retrieved the young woman, the model who’d smiled at him in the design center.
He gestured to the guest chairs. “Please.”
Over the years, his personal assistant had been through this with him dozens of times. Anytime anyone requested a one-on-one, Dominic was right there.
Power was a strong aphrodisiac. That, along with wealth, was like catnip. He wasn’t interested in beddinganyoneat his company. His only focus was on fostering a professional environment where his employees felt appreciated and respected. He wanted their best during working hours, not their bodies.
“Could I have a word alone?” Allaya asked as she flicked her long, dark hair off her shoulder.
She wore a low-cut dress, but Luciano didnotlook, he didn’t sneak a peek, and he didn’t glance. His attention stayed focused on her face.
“What can we assist with, Allaya?” he asked.
“I… um…” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to Milan for a show next week. I was curious if you ever go there.”
“I visit my Milan headquarters several times a year, but not next week.”
“Perhaps coffee when I return?” Allaya asked.
He gave her props for persistence. “We’ll see if we can schedule something with the team. Are you headed there on your own or with Santini International?”
“The in-house team.” Her gaze darkened. “I was interested in coffee with you, you know, outside of work.”
His assistant shifted in his chair.
“Thank you, but no.” Luciano stood. “Safe travels.”
After walking them out, he shut his door, returned to his desk.
He wanted to find out how Simone was doing. While he didn’t want to reveal his relationship with Carrera and Sin, he didn’t need to disclose anything beyond his sincere condolences.
Rather than text, he started to call her, but his thoughts jumped to his own loss. A text was nothing. A phone call was better. But showing up in person to console someone was a more sincere gesture.
