Perhaps he was overreacting. And maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was doing anymore. He only knew his head wasn’t entirely clear when it came to her.
He had removed a piece of her clothing in Palm Beach. Had been imagining doing it again ever since. Except all of it this time.
His mouth thinned, a throb unearthing itself at his temples. He was starting to think he had been the naive one to think he could separate the personal from the professional when it came to Chloe because he didn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it either.
He brought his back teeth together. Followed his own advice and went with the experts. “Call Eddie’s agent. Tell him to tone it down.”
She blinked. Nodded. “I will. Thank you.”
He gestured toward the TV. “Are you almost finished here? It’s late. I can drive you home.”
“No, I have more to do. I—” She jammed her teeth into her lip and stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re avoiding me and you’re snapping at me in meetings.”
Caught utterly off guard, he kept his face impassive. “I am not avoiding you.”
“You canceled three of our meetings this week, Nico.”
“I am busy running the company, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
She pursed her lips, long dark lashes fanning down over her cheeks. “That’s what you said to me about me hiding in Paris. I think you’re doing the same with us.”
She was right. Absolutely right. He had been avoiding her, because his lust was a problem. But he wasn’t about to admit it.
“You’re imagining it,” he said blithely.
“Am I?” Her gaze remained unwavering on his. “Are you punishing me for what happened in Palm Beach?”
“Yes,” he agreed, voice heavy with sarcasm, “I am punishing you, Chloe. As we make fifty-million-dollar decisions together.”
Her gaze dropped to her stocking-clad feet for a moment before she looked back up at him. “I can’t get what happened that night at the pool out of my head. The way it was between us. I don’t think either of us can. I think we need to address it.”
His gaze narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
“I want to explore what we have. I want to know what that kind of passion feels like. No strings attached.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re suggesting we have an affair?”
“Yes.”
His head pounded, like a grenade ready to go off. Was she really standing there, calmly suggesting they have an affair? The no-strings-attached type he specialized in? She was insane.
Except was it really that insane? A part of him knew it hadn’t been the whiskey that had made him cross the line that night in Palm Beach. That he’d crossed it because he’d wanted to. Because he wanted her. Because it had been a long time in the making. But that didn’t mean Chloe’s was a sane solution.
“We can’t maintain the status quo,” she murmured, pressing forward in the silence.
“Perhaps not,” he rasped. “But I can assure you that now is not the right time for this discussion.”
“When do you think might be?”
“Not now.” He stooped and picked up his briefcase. “Go to Paris, Chloe. Make this launch happen. And keep that damn actor of yours on a leash.”
CHAPTER NINE
PARIS WAS A BLUR.
Nico’s warning to execute the launch without a hitch echoing in her head, Chloe threw herself into the final preparations with the regional teams in Europe, visiting Paris first to ensure the pop-up store on the Champs-Élysées was gleaming and ready to go. She stayed at her apartment she’d kept in the sixth arrondissement while she was there, and had dinner with the team and Estelle at one of her favorite cafés to run through the launch event logistics.
Funnily enough, she didn’t feel homesick for her adopted home like she’d been sure she would. She found herself at peace instead. She was doing what she was destined to do, there was no longer any question in her mind. And she knew she could do it now.
Her meetings with the London team went off seamlessly, as well. She flew back to New York just in time for the Evolution Christmas party. Always scheduled during mid-November, it served as the official kickoff to the holiday season—the most important sales season for Evolution. After the party for the company’s employees, customers and partners that evening, Be would be launched to the public the next day with an appearance by Lashaunta in Times Square.
Chloe was running on an adrenaline-induced high by the time she arrived at her town house to dress for the party with Mireille, a Christmas tradition. It was only when Mireille waved Carrie Mayer’s newspaper feature at her that her stomach sank.
What if it was awful? Mireille’s deadpan expression wasn’t giving anything away.
Heart pounding in her chest, Chloe sank down in an armchair with the paper and took a deep breath.
Scent of a Woman
by Carrie Mayer
When I sat down with Chloe Russo, daughter of legendary American perfumer Juliette Russo, I wasn’t sure what to expect. A teenage phenomenon who launched her own fragrance at seventeen, she has remained out of the public eye for much of her life.
I wondered if she would have her mother’s intense charisma...or perhaps she would be the opposite, languishing under the weight of the expectations placed upon her to fill the shoes of a woman who burned as one of the industry’s brightest stars.
Instead, I found a bit of an enigma. A warm, engaging woman who entranced me from the moment I sat down. Who captivated me with her passion for her calling. A woman whose talent clearly stands on its own.
There is, however, clearly a message behind her new perfume line, Vivre, that perhaps echoes the struggle she has waged to forge that identity. And that, according to Russo, is to simply “be.” To let your spirit define you. To know the only limitations in life are the ones you place on yourself.
A tear slipped down her cheek as she read the rest. Then another. They were a steady stream by the time she put down the paper and her sister pulled her to her feet for a hug.
“You’ve done it, sweetie. Mamma would be so proud. This is your night to shine.”
“Oh, no.” Chloe pulled out of her arms. “I forgot to buy a dress in all this insanity.”
“That’s what you have me for.” Her sister threw her a satisfied smile as she plucked one off the back of a chair. “I knew you would. Voilà.”
Chloe tried on the black dress her sister presented. Halter-style, it had straps that crisscrossed around her neck, leaving her shoulders and much of her back bare. Body hugging, it fit her like a glove, highlighting every dip and curve.
It was sophisticated, daring. Chloe pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I can pull it off.”
“You’re the only one who could pull it off.” Mireille waved a dismissive hand at her. “You wear all those French creations I could never hope to fit into. It’s going to make Nico’s eyes bug out of his head.”
Butterflies swooped low in her stomach. Was that what she wanted? She’d been so busy since she’d left for Europe, she and Nico hadn’t broached the subject of them. She wondered if she was crazy to have even proposed it. But she knew in her heart it was what she wanted, this chance to be with him. So she was letting the chips fall where they may.
Except where were they going to fall? It was almost painful, the waiting.
She slipped on decadently high black heels and the ornate triangular onyx earrings Mireille had given her for Christmas last year, while her sister dressed in a fire-engine-red gown that fit her vibrant personality. And then they were ready for Evolution’s big night.
* * *
Restored to its original glory in 2008, The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza, which had once played host to Truman Capote’s famous Black and White Ball, had retained its glorious neoclassical decor with its grand arches and stunning massive antique chandeliers.
Tonight, as the setting for Evolution’s annual Christmas party, t
he ballroom echoed that classic black-and-white theme, with the invitations, catering and decor all reflecting the elegant color scheme, because it had been Juliette Russo’s favorite.
High black vases brimming with white lilies graced the tables scattered around the room, champagne with blackberries as its adornment was the opening cocktail and the massive Christmas tree in the center of the room glittered in cream and ebony.
With the Vivre campaign playing on screens placed discreetly around the room, the stunning, evocative creative adding the perfect touch of Hollywood glamour to the evening, it was simply magical. And with Eddie and Lashaunta in attendance tonight, it was also Manhattan’s hottest ticket in town.
Chloe and Mireille had arrived before the guests to make sure everything was perfect, as their mother had always done. But the events team had outdone themselves, every festive piece in place. Relaxing with the hotel manager, they chatted about some of the legendary parties that had taken place in the ballroom as they waited for the guests to arrive.
Chloe wasn’t exactly sure when she sensed Nico’s presence in the room. It was instinctive with her, this awareness of him that seemed to reach soul deep. But when she turned around, he still took her breath away.
Dressed in an elegant black tux, his dark hair slicked back from his face, his fabulous, severe bone structure cast into harsh relief, he looked sleek, lithe and outrageously good. Dangerous in a way that sent a convulsive shiver up her spine. Because two weeks away hadn’t lessened her attraction to him. It had only intensified it.
Greeting both her and Mireille, he pressed a kiss to Mireille’s cheeks first. When her sister discreetly faded away to “check on a piece of missing decor,” Nico set his gaze on Chloe. The not-so-subtle heat singed her skin as he moved it down over her body. Lingered at the bare sweep of her shoulders, the length of leg, before he brought his perusal back up to her face.
“You look stunning,” he murmured, his husky voice sending another shiver through her as he bent his head and brushed his lips to both of her cheeks. She sucked in a breath at the electric contact, any air she’d managed to consume lodged somewhere in her chest as he straightened and set a silvery gaze on her.
“Did Mireille show you Carrie’s piece?”
“Yes.” Her chest tightened, as if a fist had wrapped itself around it. He’d been there for her all along. Not just now, but during the hardest months of her life when her parents had died, managing things in the background. Always there. She just hadn’t seen it.
She wasn’t sure she could articulate how much it meant to her. But she tried. “Thank you,” she said, eyes on his. “For believing in me. For supporting me. It means everything.”
His eyes darkened to a gunmetal gray. “You did it, Chloe, not me. I simply kept you on track.”
“But you put your faith in me. It was what I needed.”
“I put my faith in your talent.” A smile flitted across his mouth. “Now we just need to sell some perfume.”
And wasn’t that the fifty-million-dollar question? “We will,” she said, more confidently than she felt.
His smile deepened. “Let’s go greet the guests, then. They’re starting to arrive.”
* * *
Santo rested a hand against one of the pillars flanking the ballroom, his eyes on the elegant black-and-white-clad, bejeweled crowd.
“Quite a party,” he murmured. “Lashaunta and Eddie Carello in attendance...the mayor, even. This must put even you in a festive mood.”
Nico ignored the gibe. He hated Christmas. Had ever since their mother had walked out on New Year’s Day. It had been all he could do to make it through the elaborate Christmases at the Russos’ house in Great Neck without climbing out the window.
“It’s a good party,” he acknowledged, with a tip of his head. “Your ex was at the bar earlier with her jet-set crew.”
“I saw her. She did your print campaign this year, didn’t she?”
Nico nodded. Santo’s ex—a model scaling the heights of superstardom—was still crazy about his brother. He couldn’t figure their relationship out. Neither could his brother, it seemed, the way it went back and forth like a Ping-Pong match.
Nico cocked a brow. “What did she think of you and your reporter date?”
Santo lifted a shoulder. “Not so thrilled. But a relationship can’t just be about lust. I’m looking for a soul mate.”
Nico’s mouth twisted. “Do you actually believe the things you say?”
“Si.” Santo gave him an unconcerned look. “I believe love exists. I simply think it’s hard to find.”
Santo, Nico mused, was an eternal optimist. How he managed that particular attribute after watching their parents’ bitter wreck of a marriage disintegrate was beyond him. At least Lazzero, currently off on business in Brazil, had no interest in Santo’s concept of eternal love. Lazzero was even more cynical than he.
“Speaking of beautiful women,” Santo said, nodding his head toward Chloe, who was dancing with Eddie in the center of the room, “this is certainly her night. All the big stars repping her perfumes...she must be on top of the world.”
“She is.” There was a curious tightness in his chest, a pride, he told himself, in everything Chloe had accomplished. She’d become the strong, confident woman he’d always known she could be, taking on her demons with courage and slaying them one at a time. Had demonstrated a core of steel as she’d made an impossible campaign timeline work, refusing to let any setbacks faze her.
He’d be a liar if he said she didn’t affect him, because she did. She always had. And perhaps Santo was right. Perhaps she didn’t need his brand of protection anymore. Perhaps she was capable of knowing what she wanted when it came to them. Perhaps burning this thing out between them was the right answer. But could she handle an affair with him? Or would it make even more of a mess of the situation than it already was?
Eddie bent his head and said something in Chloe’s ear that made her laugh. Her bright, vibrant smile kicked Nico right in the chest. He’d missed her these past couple of weeks she’d been in Europe—her quick wit, that razor-sharp brain, the way she challenged him at every turn.
If he were being honest, he’d admit he was fighting a losing battle over something he’d wanted for far too long.
* * *
Chloe’s head was spinning from all the dancing and conquering she’d done. More than one journalist had pulled her aside to tell her how much they loved her perfumes. Jerry Schumacher’s wife had gushed to her about Be and how much she adored it, and the silent auction of her yet-to-become-available complete set of Vivre perfumes was going for thousands.
Eddie and Lashaunta had been a huge hit, Eddie, thankfully, on his best behavior tonight. It couldn’t have gone any better. Except, of course, if Nico had danced with her. Which he hadn’t. Once again, he’d danced with everyone but her.
“It’s almost midnight,” Mireille murmured. “You need to put the star on the tree.”
Chloe’s stomach knotted. Putting the star on the Christmas tree had always been her mother’s job—the symbolic kickoff to the most exciting, important time of the year for Evolution. She knew it was her job now, she just wasn’t sure she could do it.
But Nico, true to his usual, impeccably punctual self, appeared then. The knot in Chloe’s stomach grew as they walked toward the center of the room. “I’m not sure I can do this,” she murmured.
“Yes, you can,” he countered firmly. “I thank everyone for their contributions this year and you stick the star on the tree. Nothing to it.”
Except when they got to the center of the room and Nico had quieted the crowd to give his remarks, her heart was beating so loudly it echoed in her ears and her knees felt like jelly.
However was she going to climb that ladder? She could feel five hundred sets of eyes on her as she toed off her shoes and stepped onto the first rung, Nico spotting her as she went. Climbing to the top, she affixed the beautiful white star to the tree with trembling fin
gers. Felt something in her heart break. She thought she might have finally said goodbye.
Nico caught her hand in his as she got to the bottom of the ladder. “Put on your shoes,” he said. “I haven’t danced with you yet.”
If she’d thought her heart had been beating fast before, it felt like it might careen right out of her chest now at the look of intent on his face. She took a deep breath, slid her feet into her shoes and took the hand he offered.
The band started playing a slow, lazy tune in deference to the late hour. Catching her fingers in his, Nico pulled her to him. One hand laced through his, the other resting on his shoulder, she moved into his arms. Shivered as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her into an utterly respectable hold that somehow didn’t feel so innocent with the undercurrents running between them.
His palm at her back burned like a brand against her bare skin. When she tipped her head back, there was a sexy, smoky heat in his eyes that turned her insides to mush.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” he murmured. “I don’t do relationships, Chloe. If we do this, it’s to burn this thing between us out. We both walk into it on the same page. Nobody gets hurt.”
Her core melted into a pool of fire.
She pulled in a deep breath. Gathered her courage. “I know what I want,” she said firmly. “I’ve always known what I want. If this past year has taught me anything, it’s that life is short. You have to seize the moment. And I don’t want to spend tonight alone. I want to spend it with you.”
He fixed her with an unreadable gaze. Her chest felt tight, hot, as if she could hardly breathe. Finally, after an interminably long moment that seemed to stretch forever, he bent his head to her ear. “You have security access to my penthouse from the night you dropped those papers off. Finish up here and meet me there. I’ll leave after you do.”
CHAPTER TEN
NICO’S PENTHOUSE ON Fifth Avenue was dark and masculine, with a stunning cityscape view through floor-to-ceiling windows that left the entire space encased in glass.
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