I lose it, step forward, and I slap him hard across his face. The crack echoes through the room. We stare at each other, hate running between us, and I’m not entirely sure that he isn’t going to slap me back. The look on his face is murderous. “You were the last man I slept with, asshole, not that that’s any of your business,” I sneer. “Yes, I know that’s pathetic, and damn it, I’ll be rectifying the situation immediately. You left a bitter taste in my mouth, and up until now, I couldn’t stomach the thought of being with another. But thank you very much for reminding me of what you really are. I am well and truly ready to meet a real man.”
His eyes hold mine. His chest rises and falls, as if he’s grappling for control.
“Don’t come near me ever again,” I whisper. “I hate you. I wish we’d never met.” I turn and storm toward the door. I open it in a rush to find four security guards waiting. “Move!” I yell, and they quickly jump out of my way.
“Olivia!” Enrico calls from behind me. “Get back here.”
I run to the elevator. The doors are still open, and I slam the button to close them.
The numbers start to go down, and I run my hands through my hair as I try to control my erratic heart. Oh my God, that is the exact opposite of what I wanted to say.
Why did I come here?
The elevator doors open, and I run out of the building. I duck around the corner and lean up against the wall, closing my eyes.
What a disaster.
* * *
I climb the never-ending stairs, and I drink out of my water bottle. I’m wet with perspiration but nowhere near the end of my workout. I can’t stop; I’m too wound up. I didn’t expect for Enrico to rattle me the way that he did.
I cringe every time I think of myself tearing up in that asshole’s office this morning.
Stupid fool. What on earth was I thinking?
The gym seems like a great place to try and punish myself. I wipe my perspiration with my towel and I keep on climbing. Perhaps this is the secret to working out hard-anger. Maybe all the people who smash it at the gym are really just pissed off individuals who have no other outlet. Makes perfect sense. Right now, I feel like I could take on Rocky Balboa and kick his ass.
My phone rings. It’s Giorgio.
“Hello,” I pant.
“Where are you?”
“The gym.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“I guess. Although you should be doing me a favor after the hangover you gave me.”
He laughs, and I find myself smiling. I have no idea why Giorgio and I have clicked, but he’s fun and we seem to have strung up an unlikely friendship.
“I completely forgot that I have a black-tie charity event tomorrow night. Angelo is away and can’t make it. Will you be my date?”
“Seriously?” I continue to climb. “I can’t, I have nothing to wear.”
“You can wear a dress from work. It is a work dinner. You would be on the clock, technically.”
I roll my eyes.
“Please. I just have to show my face. We can have dinner, a few cocktails, and be home before ten.”
“Giorgio,” I sigh. “Really?”
“Great, I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night.”
I stay silent.
“Please?” he whines.
“Fine.”
“What’s wrong with you? You don’t sound your usual happy self.”
“I’m at the gym killing myself.”
“I should be doing the same. Thank you. See you then.” He hangs up before I can change my mind.
Jeez, this is the day that keeps on giving.
* * *
I smile to myself as I unzip the first suit bag. My breath catches as my eyes roam over the gorgeous red evening dress. It’s fitted with spaghetti straps and it is backless. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, let alone imagined I would have the chance to wear it. I unzip the second bag to see gold and sequins. The third bag holds black lace. It goes on and on.
Wowsers.
I have a dress you can wear, Giorgio said. That was the understatement of the year. Being friends with the boss of Valentino seems to have its perks. Perks that come in the form of gorgeous evening wear being delivered to your hotel room in your exact size.
My blonde hair has been styled in big, loose curls, and pinned back on one side. My makeup is smoky, and I even pulled out my sexy underwear for the occasion.
I look through the six dresses that have been sent over but my eyes keep going back to the red one. The fabric is embossed, the detail on the stitching, the way it falls at the back, the shade of red-it’s all so incredible. I hold it up in front of my body and stare at my reflection in the mirror. A big smile crosses my face.
Maybe this week isn’t a complete disaster after all. I’m going out in Valentino.
Who have I become?
* * *
I look around the big ballroom in wonder as Giorgio leads me by my arm. We weave through the beautiful people and make our way over to the seating arrangement chart. He studies it in great detail.
“Wow.” This place is ridiculous with over the top chandeliers hanging low and huge candelabras lining the walls.
“These things are always over the top,” Giorgio says as he looks around, distracted. “This is our table here.”
We make our way over and he pulls out my chair. We take a seat at the large, round table, set with ten places. It’s covered with white table linen and set with fancy silverware. There are dozens of fresh flowers, all in different shades of cream.
A waiter arrives. “Can I get you a drink, sir?”
Giorgio’s eyes flick to me. “Champagne to start?”
“Sounds great.” I smile.
“Two champagnes, please.”
I smile as I look around. I recognize some people from my design studies. Never in a million years did I think I would ever be the in the same room with them.
“I feel like a celebrity or some shit with all these famous people here,” I lean in and whisper.
He chuckles, clearly amused. “Well, those famous people were all staring at my gorgeous date. You’re the most breathtaking woman in the room.”
“Why am I your date? I’m sure you have a million girlfriends you could have asked.”
“This is true,” he says as our drinks arrive. “Although, unlike them, I have an invested interest in you.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say that I find you fascinating, Olivia Reynolds.”
“Me,” I scoff. “Fascinating?”
He glances down at his watch. “All will be revealed shortly.”
“Giorgio!” someone calls from afar. A man standing with a group of people waves him over.
“Marcel.” He laughs. “I’ll be back in a moment, darling. Are you all right here for a moment?”
“I’m fine. Go do your thing.”
He stands and goes to the other side of the ballroom. I watch on as he kisses everyone on both cheeks.
“Buongiorno,” a voice says.
I turn to see a man in a black dinner suit standing behind my chair. He’s dashingly handsome with a honey-colored hair and big brown eyes.
“I don’t speak Italian, I’m sorry. Do you speak English?”
He sits down in the seat beside me and holds out his hand to mine. “Hello, my name is Sergio.”
I shake his hand. “I’m Olivia.”
“Are you new to Milan, Olivia? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Yes.” I smile. “Although, I’m sure you don’t see everyone in Milan.”
“When a woman is as beautiful as you, I would have remembered her.” His eyes hold mine. “And I would have most definitely approached her to introduce myself.”
I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. I feel my face flush. “Are you here alone?” he asks.
“I’m here with a friend.” I gesture to Giorgio who is now watching the two of us.
“Ah.” He smiles. “I have competition.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “If only I wasn’t working tonight.”
“You’re working here tonight?” I ask.
“Yes, my boss is on his way.”
“You work in fashion?”
He grins, amused. “A little.”