“Put the rest of the pieces of the plan in place and I might agree. And,” he said, inclining his head, “I promise to listen more. If you stop trying to bait me at every turn.”
Her mouth twisted. “A truce, then?”
A mocking glint filled his gaze. “A truce. We can celebrate by attending the Palm Beach fund-raiser together. It will present a very public united front.”
Her parents’ favorite fund-raiser. A glittering, star-studded musical event in Palm Beach every year in support of breast cancer—a disease her mother’s best friend had succumbed to. Her stomach did a nervous dip at the thought of attending it with Nico.
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “You mean you don’t have one of your hot dates lined up for it?”
Hot in the sense they never lasted with Nico. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him photographed with the same woman twice.
“I haven’t had a hot date in six months,” he drawled. “It will have to wait until Evolution isn’t in danger of falling through the cracks.”
A calculated insult intended to remind her of her irresponsibility and his immutable focus. “However will you survive?” she goaded, skin stinging.
“I will manage,” he murmured, eyes on hers. “Careful, Chloe, we’ve barely gotten this cease-fire of ours under way.”
She sank her teeth into her lip. At the erotic image that one word inserted into her head. It took very little of her imagination to wonder what he would look like in the shower satisfying that physical need, his beautiful body primed for release.
She closed her eyes. She hated him. This was insanity.
The song finished. She stepped hastily out of his arms, smoothing her dress down over her hips. Nico gave her a pointed look. “Ready to leave?”
The concrete set of his jaw said there was no point arguing. He wasn’t leaving her here. He would wait all night if he had to because this was Nico—relentless in everything he did. Patient like the most tenacious predator in achieving what he wanted.
“Yes,” she agreed with a helpless sigh.
He placed a palm to her back as they wound their way through the crowd to say good-night to Lazzero. The heat of it fizzled over her skin, warming her layers deep, a real-life chemical reaction she’d never been able to defuse.
It rendered her silent on the trip home, the warm, luxurious interior of the car wrapping her in a sleek, dark cocoon as they slipped through quiet streets. She was so tired as Nico walked her to her door, she stumbled with the key as she tried to push it into the lock.
His fingers brushed against hers as he collected the keys from her hand and unlocked the door. Little pinpricks of heat exploded across her skin, a surge of warmth staining her cheeks as she looked up at him to thank him. Found herself all caught up in his smoky gaze that suddenly seemed to have a charge in it that stalled the breath in her throat.
“Go inside and go to bed, Chloe,” he said huskily. “And lock the door.”
His intention ever since he’d walked into that bar tonight, she reminded herself, past her spinning head. To prevent her from slipping into Eddie Carello’s hands.
She slicked her tongue across suddenly dry lips. Cocked her chin at a defiant angle. “Mission accomplished. I’ll be in bed by midnight. But then again, you always get what you want, don’t you, Nico?”
His gray gaze was heavy-lidded as it focused on her mouth for an infinitesimal pause. “Not always,” he said quietly.
Then he disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER THREE
IT HAD BEEN the champagne talking. Chloe convinced herself of that version of events as she walked to work the next morning. That cryptic comment from Nico on her doorstep, the chemistry that had seemed so palpable between them. Because not once in all the years since their summer flirtation had he ever looked at her like that.
She’d merely been a blip on his radar. A casual diversion he’d regretted when more sophisticated choices had come along. Thinking it had been any more than that would make her a fool where he was concerned and she’d stopped being that a long time ago.
Whatever misguided sense of duty he was displaying toward her, this power trip he was on, Nico’s ambition was the only thing he cared about, a fact she would do well to remember. She’d agreed to this truce of theirs only for the greater good of the company. Because saving Evolution was all that mattered.
She perfected her spiel for Eddie’s agent as she rode the elevator to her office, said good-morning to Clara, whom she’d decided was not only witty but astonishingly efficient, and took the messages her assistant handed her into her office.
Done in antiques, with a Louis XVI writing desk and chairs, ultra-feminine lace-edged, silk curtains and warm lamp lighting, the office that had once been her mother’s wrapped itself around her like a whisper-soft memory. But her mind was all business as she picked up the phone and called Eddie’s agent. A good thing, too, because when she reached him, he told her he was on his way out of town but could have lunch that day before he left.
Apprehensive Eddie would change his mind if it waited, Chloe jumped on the invitation. Unfortunately, his agent wasn’t immediately sold on the endorsement, but in the end he relented, only because Eddie seemed so keen on the project and the actor had a movie coming out at Christmas, just as the massive campaign for Soar would appear.
Chloe floated back to the office and announced her victory to Mireille, who was just as excited as she.
“I,” she informed Chloe, “have good news and bad news for you. The good news is that Lashaunta is interested. She loves the campaign. It really resonated with her.”
Chloe’s heart soared. Lashaunta was a megastar. “That’s amazing.”
“The bad news is that Carrie Taylor is a no. She’s about to represent a competing fragrance. Desdemona,” she concluded, “I’m still working on.”
Which meant they needed to secure their plan B supermodel, Estelle Markov, for Nico to give them the green light. He might approve the plan with only three of their four celebrities in place, but any less than that and Chloe knew she’d be out of luck.
While Mireille worked on Estelle, Chloe went off to put the final piece of her buzz campaign into effect, personally delivering samples of the Vivre fragrances to each and every Evolution employee’s desk, explaining the story behind the perfumes. A streak of the devil possessing her, she also had Clara courier samples of the fragrances to the board members, making sure she also sent one for their significant other.
She would win them over.
* * *
Hurricane Chloe had entered the building.
A wry smile tugged at Nico’s lips as he waved Chloe into his office late on Friday afternoon and motioned for her to take a seat as he finished up a conference call.
She walked to the window instead, vibrating with the perpetual energy she’d been displaying all week in her very effective campaign to prove him wrong. Her slender body encased in a soft, off-white sweater, dark jeans tucked into knee-high boots and a fawn-colored jacket topping it off, she wore her hair in a high ponytail, her flawless skin bare of makeup.
The hard kick she administered to his solar plexus wasn’t unexpected. He’d been fighting his attraction to Chloe ever since the first moment he’d set foot in the Russo household and eyes on Martino and Juliette’s eldest daughter.
Twenty to Chloe’s sixteen, he’d been hard and bitter from his experiences. But something about the quiet, passionate Chloe had penetrated his close-packed outer shell. Perhaps he had recognized a piece of himself in her—the need they had both had to bury themselves behind their layers to protect themselves against the world. Perhaps it had been how she had sold her subtle beauty short when he’d always found her far more attractive than her stunning sister.
He’d told himself he couldn’t have her. That he would never put his position as Martino’s protégé in jeopardy—the career that had meant everything to him as he’d finally built a solid footing under his feet. Un
til unintended and explosive, the attraction between him and Chloe had slipped his reins at the Russo’s annual Fourth of July party.
Martino, who’d witnessed the kiss, had brought him up short, asking his intentions when it came to his daughter. Pursue Chloe seriously or leave her alone, he had said, knowing what Nico was—a man who would never trust, never commit to a woman because of the scars his early life had left behind.
So he’d walked away. Done it the hard way so it would be a clean break. So he wouldn’t be tempted with what he couldn’t have. Because Martino had been right—he would have broken Chloe’s heart far worse than he had in the end.
Martino might not be alive, he conceded, studying the delicate length of her spine, and Chloe wasn’t a teenager anymore, but he had a new responsibility now. To protect her, not bed her. To nurture her as Martino had asked of him. It was a promise he would not break.
His call with the West Coast team over, he pushed out of his chair and walked to where she stood at the window. She turned, her face expectant. “Did you look at the plan?”
“Yes.” He glanced at his watch. “I have time to go through it before my dinner plans if you’d like.”
When she answered in the affirmative, he strode out to reception, sent his PA, Simone, home, then returned to pour himself a Scotch. When Chloe refused his offer of a drink, he joined her in the lounge, where she stood at the windows, enjoying the view.
Designed to work and entertain with its Italian glass chandeliers, dining room for ten and magnificent vista of a night-lit Central Park, the view was Nico’s favorite thing about the space he spent far too much time in.
Chloe turned around. “So what did you think?”
“I think you’ve made a very persuasive case for Vivre being the Christmas focus. The plan is excellent.” A wry smile touched his mouth. “It was also impossible,” he conceded drily, “to miss your blitz campaign. Very clever. I couldn’t walk the halls without hearing about it. Simone can’t stop raving about Be. Jerry Schumacher called me this morning to beg for an early production bottle for his wife.”
A tiny smile curved her mouth at the mention of Evolution’s most senior board member. “I did say I would win them over. But more important,” she added, excitement filling her voice, “the media is raving about Vivre, Nico. The editor of the most influential fashion magazine in America is crazy about Soar. She wants to feature it as her must-have product for Christmas. I think it’s going to be a huge hit.”
He held up a hand before she got too carried away. “I saw that. I do, however, still have real concerns about the timing. It seems inordinately tight. I want more than Giorgio’s rose-colored glasses making this decision.”
“It is a tight timeline,” she admitted. “I may not sleep. But we can do it. The advertising space is booked, and all four of our celebrities have the time in their schedule to film the spots.”
He addressed the one glaring hole in the plan. “I don’t see Carrie Taylor in there. What happened to her?”
She sank her teeth into her lip. “She’s representing a competing fragrance. But Mireille has a verbal commitment from Estelle Markov, who’s making it big in Europe. I think she’ll be perfect to target that audience.”
“I’ve never heard of her.” He frowned. “She doesn’t have Carrie Taylor’s cachet, Chloe. Nor is the European market anywhere near the size of the North American one.”
“But she’s amazing.” Her eyes shimmered with fire. “When was the last time you were a twentysomething fashionista with breasts?”
A dry look back. “Point taken.”
“Not to mention the fact that Eddie and Lashaunta could carry this campaign on their own if they had to,” she plunged on. “Carrie is not a make-or-break for us.”
He took a sip of his Scotch. Considered his options. The skincare line he had favored was, in truth, not going to set the world on fire. It would, however, provide very solid profits. Vivre might be that superstar product line Evolution so desperately needed, but was he insane to bet the company on it?
“This is a fifty-million-dollar campaign,” he said, fixing his gaze on Chloe’s. “We’ve never done anything of this magnitude before. It needs to be executed flawlessly—right down to the last detail. Needs to put Evolution on everyone’s lips again. Are you sure you can get it into market in time?”
“Yes.” Her head bobbed up and down. “Trust me, Nico. I can do this.”
He gave her a long look. “Okay,” he said finally, pointing his glass at her. “Let’s do it, then.”
* * *
The world tilted beneath Chloe’s feet. “Did you just say yes?”
He smiled. “Si.”
“Why?”
“Because I believe in you,” he said quietly. “You’re a brilliant scientist, Chloe. Juliette said you have even better instincts than she had at this age. That you have the magic in you. I just wasn’t sure you or Vivre was ready.”
Hot tears prickled beneath her eyelids. A knot she hadn’t been conscious of unraveled in her chest. Three years of blood, sweat and tears. Six months of praying she had created something that would do her mother proud. To be so close to watching her dream reach fruition almost undid her.
But there was also fear. Her stomach clenched hard at the responsibility that now lay on her shoulders, icy tentacles of apprehension sinking into her skin. What if she failed? What if she’d been overly optimistic and couldn’t get the campaign into market in time? What if she was wrong about Vivre? What if it wasn’t going to be the smash hit she thought it would be?
She inhaled a deep breath. Steadied herself. She wasn’t wrong. She knew it in her heart. She just wished her mother was here to tell her that. To be the second half of her she had always been. Instead, she had to do this herself.
“I know this is the right path for Evolution,” she said huskily. “I can feel it in my bones.”
Nico nodded. “Then let me give you a few additional thoughts I have.”
They sat at the table in the dining room and worked through the plan. Released one by one in limited-edition launches in the weeks leading up to Christmas, the campaign for Vivre was all about buzz building and creating a sense of exclusivity for the perfumes.
Vivre’s four celebrity ambassadors would do exclusive appearances at the Times Square pop-up retail location in conjunction with the massive promotional campaign that would blanket the globe, intensifying the buzz.
Nico frowned as he looked at the timeline. “When does Eddie’s movie come out?”
“The second week of December.” Chloe pointed to the date on the timeline. “That’s why we’re launching Soar that week.”
“What are you doing on his side of things to cross-promote?”
She pursed her lips. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet.”
“You should do something with the theaters. Hand samples out. Put the fragrance in the gift bags at the premieres. Run the campaign on theater screens.”
So smart. She tapped her coffee mug against her chin. “I don’t know if we have time.”
He lifted a brow.
“We’ll make it happen,” she corrected hastily. “No problem.”
He offered a half dozen more brilliant ideas before they were done, Chloe frantically scribbling notes. She had to reluctantly admit by the time they were finished that while she and her uncle had created an inspired plan, Nico had taken it to a whole other level with his innate sense of timing and brilliant business instincts.
Which had never been in question, she brooded as he got up from the table to shrug on an elegant black dinner jacket. Her father would never have taken him on as his protégé if he hadn’t possessed Leone Di Fiore’s uncanny sense of financial wizardry. What she couldn’t forgive was how Nico had taken advantage of the trust her father had placed in him with what Giorgio had described as a systematic campaign to gain power.
She had always believed Nico operated by a rigid code of honor instilled in him by the adversity he’d faced
in his younger years. Until he’d slept with Angelique Dubois to seal a deal and she’d seen how far his ambition could drive him.
A painful wound echoed down low. Unfortunately, it didn’t diminish her physical awareness of him one bit. He did formal better than any man she’d ever known—the exquisitely cut black dinner jacket accentuating his broad shoulders, the dark pants molding his powerful thighs, the white shirt and black bow tie casting his startling good looks into harsh relief. He was so intensely virile he made her stomach flip.
Clearly he had much more exciting plans than she for tonight. In his life that didn’t include hot dates.
“There is,” he murmured, returning to lounge against the table, “a condition to my saying yes to the plan.”
Her stomach fell. Not another hoop to jump through.
She pushed out of the chair and stood to meet him on even ground. “Which is?” she prompted, tipping her head back to look up at him, prepared to do whatever she needed to do to make this happen.
“The company is suffering without a visible creative force. Everyone responsible for the future of the company is looking for a sign the magic is still there—that it didn’t disappear along with your mother.” He pointed his Scotch at her. “You and I both know it didn’t, but that’s not good enough.”
Her stomach dropped right to the floor this time. “What are you asking me to do?”
“The company needs a face, Chloe. Vivre, with its massive promotional campaign, is the perfect opportunity to position you as the creative force behind the company. The heir apparent. To tell your story. But we can’t do that if you’re holed up in the lab.”
The knot that had begun to unravel twisted itself back into place. “No, Nico. Don’t ask me to do this. Not now.”
“It has to be now.” He lifted a shoulder, a sympathetic gleam in his eyes. “I wanted to put it off. To give you more time to find your feet, but I can’t do that if I’m betting the bank on you. On Vivre. It would be irresponsible of me. But I promise you, I will be there by your side every step of the way.”
Old demons mixed with the apprehension climbing her throat. With the pressure, too much pressure, that had been heaped on her for months. Forever. It rose up inside her, pushing at the edges of the tightly held composure she’d been clinging to for weeks.
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