2.Make contact with Ramon, my set director—although he has called me four times and each time I miss the call. And when I call or text him, I get no reply in return, which concerns me, but perhaps his cell reception is poor on the ski slopes in Aspen.
3.Confirm Daniella will wear the showcase piece at the ball—she has it and was to try it on and let me know if she’s up to wearing it. That piece will look stunning on her—as if it were made especially for her.
Maybe I should just ask her again now, via text? It could be she doesn’t want to wear it, and is too afraid to tell me in person.
Me: Hey. How are the events going? Are you taking notes, Miss Personal Assistant?
In all honesty, I feel odd calling her my assistant, not only because I secretly have the hots for her, but also because she’s done far more than I expect an assistant to do. Sure, Dottie was excellent, but she lacked the fashion expertise and passion I see in Daniella.
Daniella: Hey, boss. Yep. Taking copious notes like a good girl.
Her bite still drives me crazy.
Me: Good! So I have a question.
Daniella: Then why didn’t you just text the question, instead of texting ‘so I have a question’?
And it seems there is no end to her sassiness.
Me: Are you going to indulge me and wear the showcase piece to the ball?
At least a minute has passed…and no reply. Maybe I freaked her out. I mean, she’s even my date—
Oh wait. She’s replied.
Daniella: Yes. I’m so gonna rock the hell out of that shit.
Item #3 officially crossed over to completion status.
Me: Great! Don’t forget we need to head to the airport in a couple of hours to pick up Liza and Jonah.
Daniella: Yep. I’m on it, boss. I’ll meet you in the expo lobby.
A few hours later, Jonah and I load the suitcases into the trunk of the car at the arrivals terminal at the airport, while Liza and Daniella have both settled in the back seat, chatting-it-up girl-style.
Jonah looks at me before I close the trunk. “How’s your week been, dude?”
I chuckle because I know he’s referring to my time with Daniella. He knows I’m crazy about her. “It’s been good. But believe me, we are still very much on Boss and Assistant grounds. And I get the feeling it’s going to stay like that.”
“Oh, my man, don’t give up hope. Milan is the place where you and I find our true loves…. I told you, I’m not leaving here this week without meeting the woman I’m gonna marry. You watch.”
I shake my head, and close the trunk, and soon we are all on the road, headed to the hotel. But not before Liza and Jonah fall fast asleep, both impacted already by jet lag.
My phone rings and I see via caller ID it’s Ramon.
Thank goodness.
“Hey, Ramon! We’ve been playing phone tag. How’s it going? Are you headed to the airport?”
“Antonio, I’ve had an accident on the slope.” He stammers a bit.
Crap no.
“What? What kind of an accident? Are you alright?” I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest.
“Actually, I’m not. I mean I’m alive and all, but my leg isn’t so well.” His voice sounds rugged as if he hasn’t slept for a couple of days.
“What happened?”
“I was going down this smooth slope and somehow my skis went over a tree stump. I don’t know, man…all I remember is falling and rolling and flipping, and then I woke up in the fucking hospital. I broke my right leg and my left elbow is shattered. I’m still in the hospital.”
“Oh my God, Ramon. I’m so sorry to hear that! But thank God, nothing worse happened.”
“Yeah. Well I’m not gonna make the fashion show. I can’t even go home to Venice yet. I’m so sorry. I-I know how much this year means to you.”
“No worries, Ramon. Is there anything I can do to help? You need anything?” I ask, I mean he’s been on my team for years now, I want to help anyway that I can.
“That’s just like you, man, always caring about others. You’ve got a show to worry about. Don’t worry about me…I’ll be fine.”
“Alright. Rest up and I’ll call to check on you next week. And I’ll send you a video file of how the show turns out.”
“Thanks, boss. Take care.”
I’m screwed.
It takes ages to develop a rapport with someone enough that they live, breathe, and create your expectations on the runway. And it’s not like I can just Google one and, boom, I’ll find one. Now. During Fashion Week.
Damn it. I slam my fist against the steering wheel.
“You alright?” mutters Daniella from the back seat.
“Not really. But I don’t want to discuss it right now,” I snap.
And I don’t. Why should I pull her in? She can’t have anything to offer anyway. Unless she knows someone I can call to help.
“Oh, okay then,” she says with an abrasive tone.
And great. I probably hurt her feelings now, or something. I promised I wouldn’t be a dick when I’m upset. And looks like I did it again.
We arrive at the hotel and Jonah and Liza both wake up, surprised and embarrassed they fell asleep in the car.
And just as soon as the valet removes their bags, they are assisted by the hotel manager to check in and get settled.
Daniella and Liza arrange a time to meet to shop for items needed for the show, and then Daniella and I head for the elevator that will take us up to our suites.
As we stand side by side, I can feel she’s uncomfortable near me.
When the elevator opens, we step in, only the two of us, alone.
“Hey,” I venture.
“Hey,” she murmurs, avoiding my gaze.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
She says nothing, only looks up at the ceiling.
“Right. Well, there’s that,” I snap again.
Damn it, dude. You’re never gonna get anywhere with her if you can’t stop being a dick.
The doors crawl open once we reach the top level and she stomps out.
“Daniella, wait.” I follow close behind her and the elevator door seems to slam shut.
She pivots to face me and jabs her fingernail into my chest. “You know what I don’t like about you, Antonio Michaels?”
Too intimidated to talk, I just shake my head.
“I don’t like how you can be so fucking dismissive.” She jabs again. “I sensed something was bothering you and wanted to help. And instead of allowing me the opportunity, you just dismiss me, like I’m a little piece of shit.”
Okay. I may deserve this.
But I can do without all of the jabs.
“My set director broke his leg and shattered his elbow while skiing. So now with the show literally a few days away, I have no one to help coordinate backstage activities.” I lean back against the hallway wall, beginning to feel nauseous.
“Oh my, Antonio. That’s horrible.” She approaches me and places her hands on my shoulders—no jabs to my chest this time, thank goodness. “Let me help.”
“How?” I ask, mesmerized by the thick lashes that cradle her eyelids.
“Lucky for you, when I worked at Fashion Week in New York three years ago, that’s what I did.” Her hands move from my shoulders to my chest.
“And you’re confident you can take on this project to the fullest?”
She cocks her head to the side and her eyes sparkle with a hint of playfulness. “Antonio Michaels, haven’t I told you once before I never leave home without my confident panties?”
Chapter 26
Daniella
This is it. And fuck, I’m nervous. I don’t even know why I opened up my big mouth three days ago, offering to step in for Ramon as the set director. I mean it’s been years since I was backstage at a fashion show.
So much to do.
But I’m game.
Liza has been a doll. We went shopping, and together, we found everything on my lis
t to match the sketches for the accessories and complementary clothing for the show. Jonah has also been helpful, putting together the video presentations that will be displayed on the screens behind the runway.
But I have had to keep Liza and Jonah separate because either they argue over stupid shit, like which shade of blue something is, or they become engrossed in conversations as if they are in their own little world.
Antonio has been supportive, giving me an endless supply of funds to do all that I can to make this work. Yesterday I reviewed all of the show details with him and he seemed very pleased.
But I know he’s got a lot riding on today, so I can understand his apprehension.
We’re up next—closing the show. All models are in place, ready to go strut their butts to Donna Summer’s She Works Hard for the Money. They are all carrying briefcases and are wearing blazers, neckties, stilettos, CraveMe panties, and matching cleavage-enhancing demi-bras. Their hair is in sleek buns and they all have black-rimmed glasses. Nonna saw them when she came backstage to say hello, and she got a kick out of the ensembles—especially the glasses.
Nine songs later, models are prepared for their final walk tonight—to Madonna’s Express Yourself. And what better way to ‘express yourself’ than to do so wearing sheer negligees and teddies in strappy heels while being escorted by hot topless guys with oil-slicked chests, tight jeans, and boots?
They all look perfectly naughty.
When it’s all over, the fashion show attendees give Antonio a standing ovation, and when he pulls me out there with him, the crowd gets louder. The experience is truly gratifying.
And now that it’s over, all I want to do is curl up and take a long nap.
“Daniella. You’re amazing. Thank you for making sure my designs stand out like superstars,” Antonio says, lifting me up and embracing me.
“I had fun. And believe me, they would have stood out on their own. They’re so exquisite.”
“Come on. We still have to change for the ball. And I know you’re tired, so we don’t have to stay long. We can even leave after the first set of photos in the showcase photo shoot.”
“Photo shoot?”
“Yes.” He chuckles. “But you have nothing to worry about. I can tell the camera favors you. Just look at how many times TMZ has posted photos of you.”
I lightly punch him in the gut and he hunches over in laughter.
We take the elevator up to our floor and, when we hop off, he lets me know he’ll pick me up in two hours.
I lie down for about fifteen minutes before I finally peel myself off the bed and jump in the shower.
The warm water feels good as it hits my skin and aching muscles. Stress has made my body tense over the last few days and now that the fashion show is over, I feel some of that tension subside. Although I am a little stressed about the ball—mainly what I’ll be wearing. And the fact that I am going as Antonio’s date.
I have to admit that I am getting into him. I mean he’s quite an irresistible hottie.
I step out, dry off, and blow-dry my hair and decide to go for a sophisticated up-do, which I start to do when my phone rings.
It’s Emma via FaceTime.
“Hey there! Is everything okay?” I ask straight away as It’s only 5 a.m. there. Her calling early makes me worry a bit.
“Yes, D.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s just been hard to catch you at a good time so I set my alarm to be sure I’d get you. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, babe. But I’ll be home tomorrow. We fly out early tomorrow morning.”
“It’s raining pretty bad; aren’t you landing in New York first?” Emma’s eyebrows form into a worried furrow as she lays down under her covers.
“Yep,” I say, as I begin to put on makeup.
“Well, I think a storm is headed there.” She says, her tone wreaking with urgency.
I stop putting on my makeup to look into the screen. “Oh, well. I’m sure it will all work out. How is school? Have you been doing homework?”
“Of course. I do want to get into college, you know.” She giggles. “Are you getting ready for the ball?”
“Yes. I’ll snap a selfie when I’m done.” I wink.
“Okay. I bet Antonio is gonna kiss you tonight.”
I shoot her a squinting glare. “Emma!”
She laughs hysterically like only a sixteen-year-old can.
“Well, have fun, D. Love you.”
“Love you too, babe.”
After I finish my hair and makeup, I walk into the closet and remove the ensemble Antonio chose to showcase: a long, white halter-neck gown with a low plunge neckline, embellished by floral lace and soft mesh. It kind of captures an elegant balance of sheer seduction and femininity without being too revealing. The back is also low plunging with a flirty bow and the matching panty is also gold-trimmed. It’s like the ultimate ball gown in the form of lingerie. It’s quite inventive. And to accessorize the look, a metallic leather high-heeled pumps with golden beads and crystal embellishments.
I feel honored that he asked me to wear it.
I just hope to God I look as good as he expects me to when he picks me up in less than ten minutes.
When he arrives at the door, I am a bundle of nerves. And when I lay eyes on him, I almost turn to mush.
Black Tux. Perfect Hair. Fucking Hot.
His eyes brighten when he sees me, and all I can think to say is, “Don’t I look swagalicious?”
He takes both my hands into his and says, “Actually, Daniella, I was thinking more like Princess-ish. At least, something a princess might wear on her wedding night, anyway. You look absolutely elegant, captivating, and enchanting.”
Chapter 27
Daniella
The ball is held at Fabrique, a large venue in Milan where concerts are held. Antonio steps out of the hotel limo first and then, like a gentleman, helps me out. The flash of cameras snapping photos startles me, but Antonio shields my face as he whisks me past photographers and through the grand entrance.
“Thank you for that. I don’t think I will ever get used to being photographed so many times. How do you stand it?” I ask, as Antonio leads me through a sea of beautifully decorated tables.
“I don’t stand it, actually. I’d give anything if they’d just leave me be.”
We make it to a cloth-covered oval table that faces the stage and the dance floor. It is tastefully decorated with a feathered gold-and-white centerpiece surrounded by votive candles.
He pulls out a chair. “Here you go, lovely lady. Have a seat, please.”
The entire venue décor gives off an enchantment vibe with golden lights streamed overhead and golden star-shaped confetti dusted on the tables and the floor.
Antonio takes his seat next to mine, and two other designers join us. “Hello, Sir Antonio. Your designs get better and better each year,” one says while the other one nods.
Antonio smiles, leans into me, and whispers, “You look nervous.”
“I’m not,” I fib.
Truth is, I am nervous. I have never been to a ball before. Or maybe I am just nervous being Antonio’s date. It’s a lot to take in, actually.
As the night moves along, we are served an exquisite meal of Risotto alla Milanese before I am introduced to top designers. Photographers have taken at least twenty-seven photos of me while Antonio walks around, mingling with attendees as we are served bottomless glasses of champagne. I am in awe by some of the designs showcased tonight. This is certainly an event I won’t soon forget.
The venue lights dim and Antonio leads me back to our table. “Concert time,” he says.
And before I know it, music blares…a beat I am all too familiar with.
Bruno Mars.
Lights illuminate the stage as Bruno sings his latest song. I shimmy my shoulders to the beat, and I notice the ball attendees rise from their seats and make their way to the dance floor.
Antonio removes his tuxedo jacket and bow tie and places them both on
the table. “Hey, you wanna dance?” He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor.
“Um, I guess I don’t really have a choice?” I chuckle.
Antonio’s presence is entrancing, and I can feel his intoxicating gaze upon me, even though I refuse to look at him because his shirt is partially unbuttoned, tactfully teasing his muscular build.
I feel giddy and tipsy, especially since I have had at least four glasses of champagne. Two is usually my limit.
We continue to get our boogie on and I discover Antonio is quite a gifted dancer.
Bruno begins to sing one of his slow songs and Antonio pulls me closer, causing my entire body to shiver.
Please, get a hold of yourself, woman.
With my head now pressed lightly against his chest, I can’t even concentrate on the song in the background. The sound of his heartbeat drowns out all other relative noise, creating its very own tune that the two of us erotically sway to.
Boom. Boom-boom. Boom. Boom-boom.
Is he as nervous as I am being this close to each other? If so, he sure conceals it just as well as a crooked politician conceals his deepest and darkest secrets.
If we could remain like this forever, I wouldn’t protest. But only under these precise terms and conditions, without any words between us. No words whatsoever. Just silence. And our own private thoughts left unrevealed to no one but our very own inner consciences. Words lead to discoveries. And right now, I want what I am starting to feel inside for him and what I highly suspect he may be feeling for me left undiscovered .
What am I so afraid of?
“Hey, you.” Antonio’s hum breaks up the battle between my head and my heart. He lifts one hand from around my waist and grabs a gentle hold of my chin, raising it off his chest. “You’re super quiet tonight. Everything okay?” He kisses my forehead and smiles.
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and my legs turn to mush. The comfortable look in his eyes when they meet mine make me instantly melt. “Yes, I’m great!” I manage to say.
Cinderella-ish (Razzle My Dazzle Book 1) Page 12