Page 226

Giorgio smiles as he holds my hand and inspects my ring. We are in my office, pretending to work.

“I knew you were the one for him. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

I giggle. “And how did you know that?”

“From the way that he looked at you.”

“How does he look at me?”

“Like you’re the only other person on Earth.”

My heart swells because that’s how he makes me feel too.

“So?” He sits back on my desk. “When’s the wedding?”

“I don’t know. Enrico wants the engagement party in two weeks.”

Giorgio’s eyes widen. “What are you going to wear?”

“Not sure yet.” I smile nervously. “Something nice.”

Giorgio stands and immediately looks me up and down. “You must wear Valentino.” He taps his finger on his lips. “I’m going to go down to Production and find something from next year’s line.”

I roll my eyes with a smile.

“Leave it to me, darling. You will look fabulous.” With a kiss on each cheek, he practically runs from my office, and I drop into my chair.

It is fun being Giorgio’s hobby.

________

My eyes flutter open. “Bedtime, bella,” Rico whispers from behind me.

We are lying on the couch in the apartment in Milan. It’s late now, and the last thing I remember, we were watching a movie. I’m tight in his arms and he kisses my temple.

“Did you fall asleep too?” I ask.

“Yes. This movie is very boring.”

I giggle because I love his accent when he says certain things. This movie is very boring seems to be one of them.

Enrico’s phone dances across the coffee table and the name Sergio lights up the screen. What does he want? That guy gives me the creeps.

“Yes,” Rico answers flatly, clearly annoyed at being called at this hour. He frowns and listens for a moment. “What?” he barks. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What is it?” I mouth.

He begins to yell in Italian, screaming at the top of his voice. I have no idea what he’s saying but he’s absolutely losing it. He slams his hand on the coffee table in fury and I jump. Jeez.

Calm down already.

He points to the bedroom. “Get dressed, Olivia.”

“What?” I frown. “Why?”

“Get dressed,” he repeats. He goes back to his conversation and continues to yell in Italian.

“Prepare the jet. We leave in an hour,” he instructs.