by Pamela Yaye
Zoe took a moment to collect her thoughts. Having had this conversation with Jiovanni numerous times before, she stared at her best friend for help, but he dodged her gaze. Undeterred, Zoe returned her attention to her boss, forgetting about everyone else in the room and speaking from the heart. “Aurora, you make the most beautiful clothes, and I’d kill to wear your designs but I can’t because you don’t make them in my size. Why not create clothes for everyone? Why not share your talent with the world?”
“Because if I do I’ll never be taken seriously again as a designer. I’ll be shunned by the entire fashion community. At this stage in my career that’s a risk I can’t afford to take.”
“You’re a designer, and no one can ever take that away from you.”
“We could call the line, Chic and Curvy,” proposed an intern with colored braces.
“I love it!” Zoe said, unable to hide her excitement. The expression on Aurora’s face said back off, but she had to speak her mind. Wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she kept her feelings bottled up inside. Buying clothes had been an issue ever since she’d moved to Milan. If not for Jiovanni making dresses for her to wear to industry events, she’d be stuck ordering clothes online from the States.
“You have a God-given talent,” Zoe continued. “And it’s time you share your gift with the world, namely curvy beauties like me. Hey, voluptuous women love fashion, too!”
Her joke fell flat, and for the second time in minutes, an awkward silence filled the air. Needing help, Zoe stared around the table at her colleagues, but everyone avoided her gaze. Undeterred, she flipped open her journal and reviewed her notes.
“I think the Men of Milan calendar promotion would tie in well with the launch of a plus-size line,” she explained, continuing her pitch.
Aurora perked up. “A Men of Milan calendar? Sounds dreamy! Tell me more.”
“Everyone who buys a Casa Di Moda gown during the Christmas holidays will receive a free calendar. People love getting free things, and I think this holiday promotion will be a hit.”
“I love it,” Aurora praised. “I think we should go all out. Let’s hire male models to serve champagne and pose for pictures with customers as well.”
Zoe tapped her pen on her notebook. “Christmas is several weeks away, but I’m going to get started on the Men of Milan today. We need to create buzz about our fabulous new holiday collection, and I think this is the best way to do it.”
“Who do you have in mind for the calendar?” Davide asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Money is tight right now, so you’ll have a very small budget for this project.”
“No problem. Women love to see men in uniform, right, ladies?”
For the first time since the meeting started, her colleagues smiled and nodded.
“I’m going to hire some local models and dress them up as firefighters, paramedics, police officers and doctors. I’m still working on the logistics, but I should have everything finished early next week.”
“I want the proposal tomorrow,” Aurora said.
Zoe gulped and her pen fell from her hands. Twenty-four hours? Is Aurora out of her mind? That’s not enough time to pull everything together!
A cell phone rang, filling the air with a popular Italian pop song.
Smiling sheepishly, Davide took his cell out of his pocket, switched it off and put it on the table. “Great work, Zoe. I can tell everyone in here is really excited about this holiday promotion, and I’m pumped about it, too. Well done.”
Thrilled that she had her bosses’ support, Zoe jotted down ideas as they came to her. “How long will it take for the plus-size line to be ready?” she asked. “I think it would be cool if we had some women posing in Casa Di Moda gowns draped all over the models, don’t you?”
Anger flashed in Aurora’s eyes, and she spoke through clenched teeth. “We’re not doing the plus-size line. Just the calendar. Got it?”
Worried she’d lose her temper if Aurora yelled at her again, Zoe picked up her glass and sipped her water. The self-made woman struck the fear of God in people, but Zoe wasn’t going to let anyone disrespect her. “I’m disappointed that you won’t consider my suggestion, but you’re the boss, and I respect your decision,” she said with a shrug. “If you don’t want to expand the line and increase sales, there’s nothing I can do.”
Aurora seemed to shrink right before Zoe’s eyes. With her head down and her shoulders hunched, she looked fragile and scared. Turning her face toward the windows, she gazed at the sky and fiddled with her wedding ring. For all her wealth and success, she was stubborn and insecure, and Zoe had never pitied anyone more.
“As you all know, the Christmas Wonderland Ball will be held on December 20, and I don’t have to tell you how important this event is for Casa Di Moda. Everyone who’s anyone will be there, and it’s a great networking opportunity for us all.”
“How many tables will we have this year?” asked the human resources director, straightening in her chair. “Is everyone on staff invited?”
Aurora and Davide shared a troubled look, and Zoe knew the couple was about to share more bad news with the staff. Every year, famous names from fashion, film, politics, business and the world of sports attended the black-tie event, which raised millions of dollars for the local children’s hospital in Milan. It had the most expensive and coveted tickets of the year, and Zoe was looking forward to attending her first Christmas Wonderland Ball.
“I wish everyone could go, but the cost of the ball has dramatically increased this year to 100,000 euros a table. Only the executive team can go,” Aurora explained.
“That’s all for today, everyone.” Davide opened the door. “Back to work.”
Staff members filed out of the room wearing long faces, and Zoe couldn’t recall ever feeling so low. She wanted to stay behind to speak to Aurora privately, but decided against it. Now wasn’t the right time. Filled with sympathy, Zoe watched the couple embrace. It was bad enough Casa Di Moda was struggling financially, and since she didn’t want to make things worse for Aurora and Davide by arguing with them about expanding the line, Zoe grabbed her things and hurried through the open door.
Needing a moment to catch her breath, Zoe ducked inside the ladies’ room and locked herself in a stall. If I’m a valuable member of the team why won’t Aurora and Davide take my ideas seriously? And why did Aurora roll her eyes when I pressed her for details about the plus-size line? Does she want to save Casa Di Moda from bankruptcy or not?
Zoe used the bathroom, then washed her hands. Deep down, she feared things were going to get worse at Casa Di Moda in the coming weeks, and wondered what that would mean for her future. Will I have a job after the holidays? Will I be forced to leave Milan for good?
As Zoe studied her reflection in the mirror, her mind flashed back to her conversation with Romeo Morretti that morning. A thought came to mind. He was a businessman with deep pockets who owned an investment company. Someone with billionaire friends and clients. Maybe if she reached out to him he could help Casa Di Moda—Zoe shook her head, told herself it was a bad idea. No good could come out of calling Romeo Morretti. From what she’d read about him, he was an opportunist who preyed on vulnerable people. Since Zoe didn’t like playing with fire, she pushed the thought from her mind. Yanking open the door, she marched down the hallway toward her office, determined to finish her paperwork before the six o’clock movie premiere.
Chapter 4
“I come bearing gifts,” Jiovanni announced, poking his head inside the door of Zoe’s office on Thursday afternoon. Wearing a broad grin, his eyes alight with mischief, he strolled inside the room clutching a wine bottle in one hand and a garment bag in the other. “After that staff meeting from hell this morning, I figured you could use a pick-me-up, so I brought you a snack.”
Hard at work at her desk, Zoe glanced up from the field sales rep
ort she was reading and put down her yellow highlighter. “When did Chianti become an afternoon snack?”
“When Aurora announced that Casa Di Moda was floundering and had the nerve to ask us to save it.” His smile disappeared, and a frown crimped his lips. “I almost fell off my chair when she said profits were down eighteen percent from last year. Of course they’re down! What does she expect? She’s controlling as hell and stifling everyone’s creativity.”
All afternoon, Zoe had been holed up in her office, blogging, tweeting and posting about the premiere of Amore in Tuscany at Anteo spazioCinema. The response to her online messages on the Casa Di Moda social media pages was so overwhelming, Zoe knew the event was going to be a success. Celebrities would be in attendance, on hand to mingle with fans and pose for pictures. Zoe was pleased her hard work was paying off. She’d been promoting the event for weeks, and was confident her industry friends would come through for her in a big way at the premiere. In a good mood, she didn’t want to rehash what had happened at the staff meeting, but it was obvious Jiovanni needed to vent. She set aside her report and gave him her full attention, even though she had a million things to do before calling it quits for the day.
“I’m so angry, I could punch something.” Jiovanni put the wine bottle on the mahogany end table and chucked the garment bag on one of the velvet chairs. “My opinions and ideas aren’t valued here, and it’s frustrating.”
Zoe wore a sympathetic smile. “I hear you, J, and I know how you feel.”
“This goes down on record as being one of the worst days of my life,” Jiovanni confessed, plopping down on the edge of the desk, his shoulders hunched in defeat. “And it’s Aurora and Davide’s fault. If they respected their staff, instead of treating us like a bunch of dumb schmucks fresh out of fashion school, Casa Di Moda wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Don’t hold back,” she joked, hoping to make her best friend laugh. “Tell me how you really feel.”
Hanging his head, he rubbed at his eyes. “For the last nine years, I’ve given everything to Casa Di Moda, and now I have nothing to show for it.”
Filled with compassion, Zoe rose to her feet and came around her desk. “Don’t say things like that.” To comfort him, she rubbed his back. “All isn’t lost. We’ll help Aurora turn things around, and this time next year, Casa Di Moda will be more popular than ever.”
“How? How can we make a difference when Aurora is stubborn, and closed-minded?” His voice was resigned, and his expression was grim. “I want answers, Zoe. Tell me how we fix things. How do we save this company and our careers?”
Stumped, Zoe didn’t know what to say in response. Seconds passed, but nothing came to mind. Her thoughts returned to the staff meeting, and Zoe mentally reviewed everything that was said and done inside the conference room.
“I thought so. You don’t know what to do, either.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but I’m not giving up. I’m committed to Casa Di Moda, and I want to see it succeed.”
Jiovanni spoke through clenched teeth. “And I don’t?”
Silence descended on the room.
“What happened this morning?” Zoe asked, still bothered by his lack of support at the staff meeting. Educated and well-read, Jiovanni had an opinion about everything, so his silence during the discussion had bothered her. “Why did you leave me hanging? Why didn’t you say anything when I lobbied for a plus-size line to be added to the holiday collection?”
“Because I knew Aurora would never go for it. You don’t think I’ve tried to talk to her about expanding the woman’s line a million times before? Well, I have, and the last time I submitted a detailed proposal, she tossed it in the trash.” Jiovanni dusted his hands, as if they were covered in sand, and fervently shook his head. “Zoe, I don’t know about you or anyone else on this sinking ship, but I’m done.”
Zoe raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”
“That it’s time I branched out and did my own thing in the fashion world.”
“But you don’t have enough money saved up yet to rent a space,” she reminded him, recalling the conversation they had weeks earlier about his long-term goals.
“I know, but I’m sick of twiddling my thumbs. I’m just as talented as Aurora, and if I work my ass off, Designs by Jiovanni will be a household name in no time.”
“I believe in you, J. You can do anything you put your mind to.”
Seizing Zoe’s hand, Jiovanni pulled her into his arms and held her close to his chest. He danced around the room, expertly dodging the furniture, then lifted her up in the air. “Jiovanni, stop!” she yelled, scared he’d lose his footing and drop her on the carpet. She’d taken two Asprin at lunch, and her ankle wasn’t hurting her anymore, but she didn’t want to do anything to aggravate it. “What are you doing? This isn’t Milan Dance Championship and you’re not a professional dancer, so put me down right now.”
“What do you mean, what am I doing?” he repeated, flashing a toothy smile. “I’m dancing with the most beautiful woman in Milan, and it’s the best feeling in the world.”
Zoe sighed in relief when her feet touched the ground. She swatted his shoulder. “Don’t do that again. I almost had a heart attack when you picked me up, and I’m only thirty-two!”
“Quit playing. You know you loved it.” Lowering his face to hers, he kissed her forehead. “I love holding you in my arms, Zoe. You know that.”
His fingers grazed her forearm. He was too close for comfort, moving nearer to her, and Zoe feared he was going to do something crazy like kiss her. That would ruin everything. They were friends and nothing more. She didn’t want a romantic relationship with Jiovanni. Not today, not ever. Feeling trapped, she ducked under his arms and slid behind one of the chairs.
Her computer pinged, informing her that she had a new email message, and Zoe returned to her desk. These days Jiovanni was more flirtatious than ever, and she wondered if it had anything to do with his longtime girlfriend dumping him weeks earlier. To cheer him up she’d brought him home-cooked meals, wine and an armload of action movies.
“You and I make a great couple.”
His gaze bore down on her, and a lascivious grin spread across his mouth.
“Everyone thinks so, even my nonna, and she’s never liked any of my girlfriends.”
To lighten the mood, Zoe cracked a joke.
“I’d never dream of arguing with your dear, sweet nonna,” she said, making her eyes wide. “But the next time you want to re-create something you saw on your favorite dance show, find another partner, because I prefer having my feet on the ground, not suspended in midair.”
Jiovanni stuck out his tongue and Zoe laughed. She could never stay mad at him; he made life fun, and she enjoyed his company so much they spent most of their free time together, much to his nonna’s delight.
“You know what they say about male fashion designers, don’t you?”
Zoe wore a blank expression on her face. “No. What?”
“They’re the world’s best lovers.”
“According to who? You and the womanizers in your bad-boy posse?”
“My posse? Can’t say I’ve ever heard that expression before,” he said with a hearty laugh. “You kill me, you know that? I just love your sass and wit.”
“Good, so you won’t mind when I ask you to leave.”
“So, that’s how it is? I bring you wine, and you show your appreciation by kicking me out. That’s cold. What’s up with that? I thought you were my girl?”
“I am, but you have to go. You’re distracting me, and I have tons of work to do.” Zoe accessed her email account from her computer and read her newest message. “I have to finish planning the Men of Milan calendar, but we’ll meet up later at the premiere. I’ll save you a seat.”
“No, don’t. I have plans tonight, and
they don’t involve Casa Di Moda.”
“You’re not going to the movie? Why not? Aurora’s expecting everyone to be there.”
“She doesn’t run my life, and there’s no way in hell I’m canceling my date.”
“But the after-party’s at Milano Cocktail Bar, your favorite spot in the city.”
“Like I said, I have other plans.” Jiovanni took his cell phone out of his pocket and swiped his finger across the screen. “I met a woman last night at the Blue Note jazz bar, and I’m taking her to the new French restaurant in the Bicocca.”
As Zoe listened to Jiovanni boast about his flavor of the week, her gaze fell across the web page on her computer, and she clicked it. An image of Romeo Morretti filled her screen. At lunch, as she’d sat at her desk eating the steak panini she’d ordered from a nearby deli, she’d read several articles about him, and even watched a documentary about his family. The Morretti family was an accomplished, successful bunch who donated their time, money and resources to worthy causes. But it seemed the more money Romeo made, the more ostentatious he was. Sure, he gave generously to charity organizations, but former employees painted him in a bad light.
And they weren’t the only ones.
The interview his ex-fiancée had given to the tabloids was so outrageous, Zoe had abandoned her lunch and soaked up every juicy word. There were thousands of pictures of him online with his billionaire clients, supermodel dates and equally attractive family members. To her surprise, Romeo traveled more than a flight attendant. He was in Spain when his brother Emilio won his fifth Formula One championship, on hand when his cousin Demetri smashed another baseball record in the Windy City, at the opening of Dolce Vita Dubai to support his cousin Nicco, and the dutiful best man at his brother Markos’s glamorous, over-the-top wedding in LA.
Zoe wet her lips with her tongue. Staring at the images of Romeo, she decided the photographs didn’t do him justice. They failed to capture his energy, his zest for life. Truth be told, she was intrigued by him. He was such a force, so charismatic, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. No surprise. Like every other woman in the city, she was attracted to his dashing good looks. Not that it mattered. Nothing would come of it. They didn’t travel in the same social circles, and Zoe had a better chance of winning Milan Idol than making a love connection with one of the richest men in the country.