Olivia
April, two months later
I close my eyes as I stare at the email in my inbox. “Please let this happen.”
This is it; the moment I’ve been waiting for. Three months, seven interviews, an hour-long conference call last week, and it all comes down to this.
One email. I either got the job or I didn’t.
All my hopes and dreams rest on this.
I’m either moving to New York to take up a position in the designing team for Valentino. Or I’m not.
And damn it, I really, really want to.
It seemed crazy when I applied for the position on the other side of the world, but now I’ve gotten used to the idea of moving, I’m excited about it. More excited than I’ve been about anything for a long time. I’ve been looking at rental apartments over there, and I have worked out the area I want to live in.
Now, it just has to happen.
I’m still designing pyjamas. It’s still a great job with a great company, but my life in Sydney is still batshit boring. I’ve bought an apartment and pottered along for a while, even been on a few dates, but I’m itching. I don’t know how I find out what makes me happy but I do know that designing pyjamas and living alone isn’t it.
My finger hovers over the email. Okay, just do this. I inhale deeply and hit open.
My eyes skim the letter until I get to the line I’m dreading.
Unfortunately, you have been unsuccessful in your application.
I slump back into my chair.
What?
For fuck’s sake. I drag my hands down my face and go back to read it from the beginning.
Dear Olivia
Thank you for your recent application with Valentino.
Your experience and creativity are very impressive, and you were shortlisted for the position of junior designer in the New York division. However, the applicant you were up against had extensive experience and came from a similar established role. It is because of this that we feel that he is better suited to this particular position. We regret to inform you that you have been unsuccessful in your application.
I sit back, dejected and, quite frankly, pissed off.
Great. I read on.
However, we have found something else that we feel you would be perfect for.
The position is to be a fabric consultant to the designers, and it is based in Milan.
Your key role will be to source and negotiate the production of the desired fabrics for our upcoming ranges. You will be required to relocate to Milan in Italy, and extensive travel will be required to fulfill your role.
My eyes bulge. What the hell?
If this sounds like something you would be interested in, please contact me and we can discuss the specifics further. The position is available from the 28th May. Valentino will cover moving costs, and your first six weeks of accommodation will be supplied until you get settled in Italy.
I look forward to speaking with you with regards to this role, and I hope that we can welcome you into the Valentino family.
Have a nice day.
Giorgio Bianci
Valentino, Milan.
“Oh my God.” I bite my bottom lip as a goofy smile crosses my face. Picking the fabrics for upcoming ranges? It’s a dream come true.
Holy shit.
I get a vision of myself being all professional and traveling the world looking for fabric. It could be the opportunity of a lifetime. My mind goes to the last time I was in Italy, and that stupid bastard the Italian Stallion, Rici Ferrara. It’s been a while since I thought about him and his fuckable package.
Asshole.
I can’t think of him without getting angry.
Rome is six hours away from where I’m going. If I don’t go to Rome, I can’t see him. Problem solved.
Excitement begins to sink into my bones.
Italy.
Not quite New York. It’s the other end of the spectrum, sure, but it is away from here. It’s exotic and new, and not to mention the position is amazing. It’s a no-brainer really. I’m stupid if I don’t do this. I roll my fingers on my desk as I go over my options.
Fuck it. I’m going.
* * *
May, one month later.
“Ciao.” I smile at the concierge over the counter.
I’m in the hotel where I’m staying for the next couple of weeks in Milan-The Chateau Monfort. I’m trying desperately to contain my over-the-top excitement. This place is already fabulous; I can just tell. The foyer has huge limestone arches and a marble concierge desk. The floor is an exotic tile. Don’t even start me on the artwork in here. Let’s just say, I can tell that I’m in Milan.
Over the last month I’ve been listening to my Italian tapes like a woman possessed. I really want to learn the language while I’m here and I am going to try to converse as much as I can in Italian.
“Vorrei fare il check-in, per favore. Mi chiamo Olivia Reynolds.” I smile proudly. Yes, that’s right. I speak Italian because I live in Milan and shit. I bite the side of my cheek to stop myself gushing about how cool I have suddenly become.
The man on the counter speaks. “Certo, signora! Ha prenotato online?”
Oh. Jeez, he said that fast. “Ah, può ripetere per favore?”
“Abbiamo aggiornato la sua prenotazione e abbiamo incluso un pachetto colazione,” he says way too fast.
My coolness was premature. “Do you speak English?” I ask.
“Yes, Madame.” He smiles, knowing full well he just knocked me down from my pedestal. “We have you booked in for a period of six weeks.”
“Yes.”
He types something, and then reads the notes. “Oh, you are here for Valentino?”
“Yes.”
He continues to type. “What do you do for them?”
“I’m a textiles consultant.” I beam. That sounds so cool.
“Impressive. You are in room two-three-two on level two.” He slides my key over the counter. “We have upgraded you to also have a breakfast package. It’s served daily in the restaurant on level two from 6:00 a. m. You have full access to the swimming pool on level three with a gymnasium and a day spa. Concierge is twenty-four hours, and we will arrange all of your transfers for you if you call ahead. There is around-the-clock room service available with an extensive menu.”
I grin brightly. “That all sounds great. Can I please have a kettle, coffee, and tea supplies brought to my room?”
“Of course, I’ll order that now.” He types something into his computer. “Your luggage will be up shortly, and if there is anything you need, please dial nine.”
“Okay.”
“Enjoy your stay in Milan, Miss Reynolds.”
I bounce my shoulders. “Thanks.” I make my way up to level two and down the wide corridor until I get to my room. I walk in and my breath catches.
The room is huge, full of antique furnishings, chandeliers, and gorgeous artwork. Sheer white drapes cover the windows, and the view over the city is spectacular. There’s a circular table made from dark wood, and matching chairs with upholstered cream velvet cushions. There’s also a large couch in the same velvet, and the carpet is thick and lush. Holy shit, the bed. It’s round, king size, and has a white netting canopy over it.
What the heck? A king size round bed? Now I’ve officially seen it all. I look around in awe. This place is fucking amazing. It’s like a fairy tale.
There’s a knock on the door and I rush to open it. “Your kettle, coffee, and tea supplies.” The porter smiles.
“Yes, please, come in.” I open the door and watch on as he sets them up in the little kitchen area. “Will that be all?”
There’s another knock on the door.
“Yes, thank you,” I say as I open the door. Another porter has arrived with my luggage.
“Your luggage.”
“Yes, just put it here.”
He wheels my suitcase in, and I tip them both. “Thank you.” They leave me alone.
I look around my room with a broad smile on my face. I quickly text my mum.
Arrived safely.
Call you tomorrow.
Love you
xoxo
I’m going to make a cup of tea, put away my clothes, and then go to sleep.
I start work at Valentino in two days.
Holy shit, is this real?