Page 44 of Valentino

CHAPTER FOUR

ANNA

4:40 p.m.

The car pulls into the underground parking lot of the Ferrara building.

“Don’t tell Giuliano I’m here, please, I want to surprise him,” Francesca tells our driver.

“Of course.” His eyes flick up to meet hers in the rear-vision mirror, he parks the car and we get into the elevator and head up to reception with three men in the elevator alongside us.

Am I imagining it or are there extra guards around today? They seem to be everywhere.

Hmm, perhaps it’s always like this at the Ferrara building. I haven’t been here for years; I guess it makes sense that the security is over the top.

The elevator door opens and the security guard’s face falls when he sees us. “Mrs. Ferrara,” he stammers nervously. “Hello.”

“Hello.” She smiles. “Anna and I are going up to see the boys.”

“Of course.” He steps to the side and walks us over to another elevator. “Top floor,” he tells the security guard; he then swipes his key and gets in beside us and we ride to the top in silence.

“Do you come in here often?” I ask Francesca.

“Uh-huh.” She smirks, what is she smirking at? I frown in question; she turns her attention back to watching the dial rise with the floors. Whatever she wants to tell me, she doesn’t want the guard to hear.

“Remind me later,” I say softly.

“Oh, I will.” She smiles.

The doors open and we step out onto the entire top floor, wow.

Ceiling-to-floor glass with views over Milan. Marble floors and big trendy lampshades. Glass offices are along one side of the building and in front of each of those offices is a desk. “Good afternoon, girls.” Francesca smiles.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ferrara.” They smile nervously.

And suddenly the reason Francesca pops in here often is becoming blaringly clear. The PAs sitting at each of these desks are absolutely fucking gorgeous.

“Is my husband in his office?”

“He is.”

We begin walking up the corridor. “Is my husband in his office.” I snicker.

“Always wanted to say that,” she whispers back.

“You have got to be kidding with these women,” I whisper under my breath.

“I know, I wish I was,” she murmurs back. “Unfortunately they’re all very good at their job and were hired long before Giuliano and I got together.”

Jeez.

Blondes, redheads, brunettes, it’s like a smorgasbord of glamour, and we arrive at another area of the floor, more desks and more beautiful women. “Which one is Valentino’s PA?” I whisper.

“Savanah.” Francesca waves over one of the girls. “This is Anna.”

Savanah smiles and holds her hand out to shake mine. “Hello, Anna, how do you do?”

“Great.” I shake her hand as the color drains from my face, English…she’s English, complete with long blond hair, blue eyes and a dreamy accent.