by Theresa Papa
“Bitch, so your mom went in alone?”
“Yes, she was that determined to get to know my dad outside the nightclub atmosphere. She found him by the bar and just acted like it was any other Friday night. He never even asked where her friends were. They started talking as usual, and she managed to slip in the fact that she was going to the Midwest Beauty Show. My dad played right into it. He even asked if he could pick her up so they could go together.”
“So that’s how it ended up being their first date. What happened with the other guy?” she asks.
“The funny part that we tease my dad about is that my grandfather copied down his license plate when he picked up my mom. Grandpa knew my mom was getting into a car that didn’t belong to her boyfriend, and he worried about my mom being with some stranger. After all was said and done, though, Grandpa really loved my dad. The rest is history; my mom broke up with the other guy, and she and my dad have been together ever since,” I say cheerfully.
We park in the underground garage and head into the cosmetology trade show with excitement buzzing all around us. Booths and displays for every kind of beauty implement imaginable are set up. An easel lists the schedule for the classes, and I head straight for it. I’m interested in several, but the most important one starts in ten minutes.
“This demo starts soon. Can we go see it?”
“Sure. I’m up for whatever you want to see. You know I’m mostly here to people watch and bullshit. I can do that while you enjoy the demos.”
“Follow me.”
When we enter the conference room, it’s almost at capacity. The only seats left are in the front row, so we grab them and get comfortable. The set on the stage is a beautifully done mock salon with eye-pleasing colors and an ambiance of calm and serene. The lights in the room dim, and a spotlight illuminates just the stage. The man who appears on stage needs no introduction for me because I’ve known him since I was a little girl.
Frank Lucaro and my father once owned a salon together until he sold his interest to my dad to go into manufacturing and sales of salon furniture and equipment. He begins his introduction as he moves around the stage to highlight the state-of-the-art salon décor. Jennifer interrupts my concentration by tapping my knee wildly.
“What?” I whisper with a sharp exhale.
“Look behind the stage. That’s Nico Pope! I saw that eye candy the other day when I met my friend at his salon after her haircut. He’s so fuckin’ hot,” she whispers. “I think his dad is one of the partners at your law firm.”
He stands in darkness backstage; his delectable outline is all that is visible. But no sooner than I turn my head does Frank introduce Nico and welcome him onstage. He takes the microphone from Frank and begins his monologue. His smooth and silky baritone has me hypnotized to the point where I don’t register what the hell he’s saying. I just want to stare at him all day and listen to that voice. Suddenly, two gorgeous orbs stun me further as the color of azurite glows back at me. I’m instantly reminded of an intense deep blue-colored stone in one my necklaces. A magnetic force keeps our eyes connected as if it would be almost painful to look away. He’s the most handsome, enthralling man I’ve ever seen.
My heart pounds out of my chest when I realize he has directed his speech to me personally. My gaping stare zeros in on his sensual mouth as I try to will myself back into reality. He walks toward me with his hand out to welcome me on stage with him. I break out of my stupor, looking around at the people and trying to get back the last few sentences he spoke to no avail. Why is he speaking directly to me?
“What’s wrong with you? Go. Get up!” Jennifer whispers. She shoves me toward the man. He literally catches me and prevents me from stumbling up the steps. I throw Jen a dirty look for shoving me but quickly forget her when his clean scent consumes me. His embrace is warm and inviting as he looks down at me with a chuckle.
“Thank you for joining me on stage. What is your name, beautiful lady?” Nico asks.
“Um … you … you’re welcome. My name is Samantha.”
“Samantha, please take a seat in our new Saloncentra chair.” He ushers me to the chair on the stage, and his hand lingers before he releases mine.
“Now hold on, Samantha. I’ve been known to give one wild ride.”
The audience laughs at his connotation. His beauty and personality have everyone in the room enchanted. When our eyes meet, he gives a playful little wink along with a genuine smile, emphasizing his witty comment. I can feel my face crack into a wide grin, and I just shake my head.
He moves the chair into all kinds of heights and positions from a remote control in his hand. The audience members are oohing and chuckling at his display. I, on the other hand, can’t stop looking at him. Every word is more compelling than the previous one.
“Anyone looking for jobs, please contact me at Salon de Nico. My business cards are on the back table. Thank you all for coming and enjoy the rest of America’s Beauty Show!” And then, the spotlight goes dark upon us.
I blink rapidly at the man while he stands directly in front of me holding both of my hands in his to escort me from the clever chair. Hands that are smooth and warm, making me never want to let go. Butterflies have taken up residence inside me.
“Are you all right?”
I rise from the chair quickly, self-conscious that I’m still seated and concentrating on his hands. It must be mutual because he kept my right hand in his until Frank walks over to us.
“Nico, you couldn’t have picked a sweeter model than Samantha. This is Jack Marconi’s daughter. Remember the salon I was a partner in? He was my business partner.”
If possible, Nico’s grin widened. “Oh yeah, the one in Lincolnshire?”
“That’s the one! Samantha, come over here and give Uncle Frank a hug. I haven’t seen you since you left for college,” Frank says as his arms open to welcome me into a hug.
“That was seven years ago, Uncle Frank. I’m graduating from law school this year.”
“Time really flies by, sweetie. How are your dad and mom?”
“They’re good. Enjoying retirement.”
“That’s great, honey. I have to catch up with your dad soon. Listen, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to get ready for the next presentation. Please tell everyone at home I said hello.” Frank leaves with a squeeze of my shoulders and a wave.
Nico and I are now alone on the stage. When I look up at him, he seems to study my face when his eyes zero in on my lips. I can feel the heat of his body next to mine. I’m amazed at how we’re suddenly standing so close. Jennifer yells something from the front row a few feet away. His eyes return to mine for a moment before he looks away to her.
“Sam, you should ask Mr. Pope what jobs are available at his salon. It’s right where your classes and internship are located.”
“Here’s my card, Ms. Marconi. Please stop by to chat. I look forward to it.”
“Thank you. I will,” I say, smiling up at him. “This is my friend, Jennifer Chambers.”
He and Jen exchange pleasantries, and we all say goodbye.
Jen and I walk into the hallway, and I can still feel the buzz in my hands from his touch.
“I wonder if he’s gay.”
“Jennifer! Just because he’s a hair stylist doesn’t mean he’s gay. My dad was a straight salon owner and hair stylist.”
“Well, Nico’s a little too perfectly groomed,” she says and shrugs.
“It would be bad business for him to be unkempt,” I counter.
Jen rolls her eyes and sprays a perfume tester on her wrist.
“Well, I guess I’ll find out sooner or later if I get the job.”
“Oh sweetie, you’ll get the job.”
Chapter 4
Samantha Marconi
Rush hour on Sheridan Road is busy as usual as I make my way toward the center of the city. As I travel around the curve to the drive, the sun has begun its descent on my right,
but the picturesque water views of Lake Michigan can still be viewed on my left. The beauty of the scenery takes my breath away every single time. Salon de Nico is located in the heart of Chicago on Michigan Avenue, and Lake Shore Drive is my favorite way to drive downtown.
The lock clicks on my car in the parking garage, and I head toward the elevator with fifteen minutes to spare. The salon is on the first floor at street level, but I decide to walk around to the front entrance so I can experience the first impression of the salon. The side garage entrance can be saved for future visits.
“Wow, I knew I would love the décor,” I say out loud to myself.
The lobby boasts a grand Tuscan and Neo Classical mixture of texture, light, and sound. My heart skips a beat while I glance down at the sleek travertine floors, then up to the soaring columns, and the luxurious draped fabric. I smile at the splash of the fountain, providing a Zen vibe along with the ethereal music. The huge urns that overflow with fragrant fresh flowers wafts into my nostrils. All of my senses are engaged. Okay Samantha, close your mouth and find the front desk. A tall, attractive blonde about twenty-seven years old approaches me at the door. Her black pencil skirt and crisp white button-down shirt with three-quarter cuffed sleeves screams classic professional. I recognize her shoes are a black pair of those red-soled beauties that all the stars wear.
“Welcome to Salon de Nico. You must be Samantha Marconi. I am Giselle.” She presses her lips together while squinting her eyes at me as she holds out her hand to shake mine. There’s a slight accent to her speech, and she enunciates every word as if English is a second language.
“Very nice to meet you Giselle,” I offer as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.
“Nico is unavailable at the moment, but he sent me out to greet you. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay then, if you would have a seat, I am sure he will be along shortly.” With that, she disappears into the salon once again, and I’m left alone. I look around and question where all the clients are. My watch says it’s close to eight. He probably had me come this late, so he would be free to talk to me. There’s a swish from behind me, and a woman appears hunched over with a mop. She startles when she notices me.
“Oh, so sorry, miss. I will get out of your way. The boss would not like me to clean in front of the clients.” She nervously tries to avoid eye contact.
At the same time, those lovely designer heels are quickly clicking toward us.
“Constance, could you please finish up quickly? Mr. Pope has his meeting with Miss Marconi now, and I will be locking up.”
I guess that means Mr. Pope and I will be here alone? Should I be nervous? More nervous?
The older woman quickly gathers her cleaning supplies and heads toward the back.
“Yes, Ms. Giselle.”
Then the tall, gorgeous blonde turns her sights back on me, and once again, she forces a somewhat congenial expression. She must have had her lips enhanced; it kind of ruins the rest of her pretty face.
“Please follow me to Mr. Pope’s office,” she commands.
I stand, excited to finally get to see the rest of the salon. If the lobby is any indication, I’m definitely in for a treat. The hallway opens into a large high ceiling room with hair stylist stations in the round. My hands glide over one of the surfaces, each one specifically outfitted in what looks to be the latest, most advanced products and implements in the beauty industry. The main color palette continues in taupe, creams, and black. I inhale more fresh flowers that adorn the entire salon. No expense is spared with decorating this place.
“This must be a nice place to work, and the décor is second to none,” I state, struggling to keep up and not fall behind Giselle. She nods her head without a reply.
Our heels click, click, click, and we enter another hallway through to the service rooms for waxing, facials, and massage. And to my surprise, the aroma of chlorine hits my nostrils, so there must be a pool or a hot tub. She opens a set of double doors that lead to another grand hallway, and she turns around to face me.
She gestures with her hand. “The large mahogany doors at the end of the hallway are his office; he is ready for you. I am late for an appointment, so I need to leave you now.”
“Thank you, Giselle. It was nice meeting you.”
The woman is like a cyborg. She nods and leaves.
I turn, walk a few feet, and my eyes travel up and down to admire the carved dark mahogany doors. After a deep breath, I smooth my hand over my dress, then make a fist and knock lightly.
“Come in please, Ms. Marconi.” That voice is like a cozy blanket of warmth. With a shaky palm, I push the door open and walk in to find him crouched over his desk; he has thick, black, and wavy hair. When he looks up from his desk, our eyes meet, and we maintain silent visual contact as he rises from his desk and walks over to me. Very reluctantly, I blink, breaking our magnetic gaze, and end the silence that seems to last for way too long.
“Your salon is magnificent! Thank you for the opportunity to interview for the position you have open.”
Taking his offer of a handshake, I look back up and make a determined effort not to get caught in his hypnotic eyes. Instead, I find myself staring at his chiseled jawline. I could just sit and look at this man all day long. How would I ever get any work done if he hired me? Come on, Sam, be professional!
He clears his throat slightly, and I blink.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Marconi, but I have to say that when I read your resume, I noticed you are way overqualified for this particular position. May I ask why you would apply for a job as a receptionist at a salon when you are currently in law school?”
He politely pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit down in front of his elegant mahogany desk. Then he walks over to a bar and pours some sparkling water.
“May I offer you something to drink, Ms. Marconi?”
“Sparkling water would be great, thank you.”
As he faces the bar to pour our drinks, I’m fortunate to check out a spectacularly hard body clad in a crisp button-down shirt and dark jeans that accentuate all the right assets. I quickly turn my head as his strong, square jaw faces me again. A faint smile enters his expression and then disappears. My cheeks heat as I reach out for him to hand me the glass, and our fingers glide against each other. The exhilarating warmth of his touch makes my stomach flutter and the hairs on the nape of my neck rise. He returns to his seat and waits for me to answer his question.
“Um, well, let me explain, Mr. Pope.”
“Please, call me Nico. It’s important to me to make everyone feel comfortable. You’ll see we have a family atmosphere if you work here.”
“Well then, please call me Samantha or Sam if you prefer.” First, a drink from his glass, then he nods with a toast in affirmation.
“So, Nico, the position in your salon is a very convenient work opportunity for me because the location is right down the street from most of my classes. My internship at Pope, Manning, and Price … um, I mean your dad’s firm, is practically next door, and you stated on the phone that the hours would be flexible. As Frank explained, I grew up in a salon atmosphere, so I’m familiar with the day-to-day operations.”
Sitting back in his plush cocoa leather chair, he lowers his brows and tightens his jaw in contemplation. The silence in the room is unnerving, and I use the break in the conversation to sip my water.
“Samantha.” Those three syllables sound so sensual on his tongue, and I look away briefly embarrassed at how the sound of it makes me feel. Can I just listen to him whisper my name in my ear like that? Preferably while he nibbles slowly down my neck? Oh boy!
“All of those details make sense. I think you would be a good fit for the job. Don’t you?”
My eyes look back into those yummy teal pools of wonder, and I’m still captivated when I answer.
“I do. I promise you won
’t be disappointed.”
His expression changes, and a big smile with straight white teeth and sexy dimples crosses his face.
“Would you be able to start tomorrow at 4:30?”
“I would love to start tomorrow.”
We both stand, and he offers me his hand. We shake, but he holds on as he comes around the desk once more. Before I know what’s happening, he pulls me out of the office and down the hallway.
“Let me show you some of the things you should know now that you work here.”
His hand rests on the small of my back as he leads me from room to room, conveying intimacy and warmth. At one point, I’m seated at the front desk, and he’s leaning over me to show me the computer. His hands are so strong and smooth. No calluses on the palms and no hairy fingers. Just glorious long digits with short, immaculate fingernails. Those hands could do so many wonderful things to a woman's body. Just like if he were to play a musical instrument bringing out the crescendo.
I can feel my face flush again at my inappropriate thoughts. Get it together, Sam. I have to learn to control my thoughts. His focus switches from the computer screen to me. For just a second, there’s a glimpse of attraction or is he just feeling the lust from my mind and reacting to it. He’s so friendly and genuine that it shocks and surprises me. But excitement takes over any other feeling, and I have tingles all over.
After we’re finished, we say goodbye while he locks up out in front. As I walk away, a black Mercedes SLS roadster stops at the curb. I hide inside the door of the garage and observe. Out jumps a handsome blond-haired man dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and blue tie. Nico greets him fondly with half handshake half hug. I’m out of earshot, but they both get into that luxurious two-hundred-thousand-dollar car and speed off together. I stand there, in a full-on sulk, leaning against the garage wall. Dammit, Jen was right.
Chapter 5
Samantha Marconi