Ache For You

35

Matteo’s gaze drifts to the bed. I picture us together on it, writhing around in a sweaty, moaning tangle. I swallow so loudly it sounds like a cartoon.

“Certo,” says Matteo gruffly, still staring at the bed. Then he turns and heads to the door. Just as he’s about to pass through it, he stops, puts a hand on the doorframe, and turns back. “Since you’re going to be living in Italy now, I assume you’ll be attending Fashion Week in Milan next month?”

His face is impassive, but there’s something I don’t trust simmering in his eyes. “I’d have to get an invitation. Why do you ask?”

He allows himself a smile, but there’s not a trace of humor in it. “I think you’ll be interested to see the House of Moretti’s spring collection. We have some truly incredible new designs.”

He lets that sink in for a moment. When I realize his meaning and suck in a breath, his humorless smile grows wider.

He raps on the frame with his knuckles. “Sweet dreams.”

Then he leaves, taking the last of my faith in humanity with him.

FOURTEEN

MATTEO

Luca told me his daughter was stubborn. But there’s stubborn, and then there’s Kimber DiSanto.

Thank God she’s even more competitive than she is pigheaded. What I’ve got planned for her counts on both.

Smiling at the curse she hollers at my back as I walk out of her bedroom, I make my way to the kitchen. I swallow the rest of the Frangelico in my glass, say a brief farewell to Lorenzo, and leave.

My work here is done.

For tonight.

FIFTEEN

KIMBER

I’m back at the shop before the sun’s up, sketching out a new collection.

If that bastard thinks I’m going down without a fight, he’s about to get the surprise of his life.

It’s impossible for an unknown designer to book a runway show in Milan for Fashion Week, but there is one way for me to make myself known. One risky, go-broke-or-go-home way.

But I’m going to need help to pull this off.

Once I’ve got about a dozen rough sketches, I take a break and call Jenner. He answers on the fifth ring, just as I’m about to hang up.

“Moshi moshi.”

“Mo—what?”

“It’s how they answer the telephone in Japan, darling. Haven’t you been anywhere?”

“Are you currently in Japan?”

“Unfortunately, no. But I am currently in bed with a lovely Japanese lad who I was inside of earlier, so it’s practically the same thing.”

“Oh s**t. What time is it there? I keep forgetting about time zones.”

“Never mind, I’ve been up all night anyway. How are you? What’s happening with my darling love Matteo? Tell me everything and hurry up about it.”

In the background there’s a sleepy male voice asking Jenner something. I catch the words “please” and “squeeze” and stop listening.

“Ugh. Your ‘darling love’ is the worst. We’re total enemies. I’m gonna crush him like a bug!”

“Oh dear.” Jenner chuckles. “Have you been playing Scrabble again?”

“No. I’ve got a bigger game in mind. A game with much higher stakes.”

“Hmm. This sounds interesting. Continue.”

I take a breath and let it out in a gust. “I’m gonna crash his show at Fashion Week.”

There’s a loaded pause, then Jenner says, “It’s all that Mediterranean sun. It’s gone to your head.”

“I haven’t been out in the sun!”

“The wine, then. You’re having wine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, right? They push it on you over there like it’s Vitamin Water.”

“I’m completely sober.”

“Wonderful,” he says drily. “That means you’re serious, which means you’re seriously deluded.”

“I’m not deluded!”

Ignoring me, he sighs. “You’re really starting to worry me, darling. First it was moving to Florence, now it’s crashing an exclusive invite-only event that will be crawling with security. The next thing I know you’ll be telling me you want me to model one of your dresses on the catwalk or some such nonsense.”

When I remain silent, Jenner says, “Oh no. No, no, no.”

“If you love me, you’ll do this for me.”

“That’s emotional blackmail!”

“I need you, Jenner. Not only are you a professional model—an amazing model—you’re the prettiest person I know. No one has cheekbones or a pout like you.”

He grumbles something, but I know I’ve got his attention. Flattery works on him every time.

“I know how you love making a spectacular entrance, and what I’ve got planned will be super spectacular.” I don’t have anything planned yet, but I’m appealing to his sense of drama and love of the limelight. I’ll work out the particulars later. “And you’ll already be in Milan next month for the shows, so it’s perfect.”

He laughs. “Oh, Poppins. You’re delightfully bonkers.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Prance around in one of your daintily exquisite, frothy creations and make an utter fool of myself while simultaneously jeopardizing my career by being involved in an ill-conceived and quite possibly illegal harebrained scheme to disrupt one of the most prestigious fashion shows on the planet? Of course not. One of us still has his sanity.”

I grouse, “Danielle would do it for me.”

“Please. No one would let that woman near a catwalk with those enormous boobs of hers. I’m not even sure they’d let her in the front door—they’d turn her around and shuttle her off to the nearest Hooters! Honestly, how you people can walk around with those things, I’ll never know.”

“I’ll have you know my boobs are my favorite part of my body.”