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“An ad?” Gia piped up, interest piqued.
“An advertisement for a magazine,” he explained.
“Can we see the ad?” Liv asked, patting him on the chest. “Can we, please?”
“I don’t see why not. But it’s up to your mother.” He turned back to Payton. “Would you like to come along? You’re welcome to join me, although I have to warn you, it’s a problem shoot. We’ve had endless headaches on this one.”
“What’s going on?” Payton knew all about advertising headaches. She’d had her share of ad agonies this year.
“Everything. The tone’s wrong. The energy’s not there. We’ve reshot the ad twice. But come with me. You’ll see.”
Marco’s driver delivered them across town, dropping them off in the commercial district with its plethora of warehouses and industrial space. Many of the city photographers and artists had taken up residence in the huge lofts and today’s fragrance ad was being shot in one of these.
They took the elevator up and Payton got the girls to sit in a corner and quietly watch the activity. They’d been on enough jobs with Payton to know when to sit still and let Mommy work.
“Take a look at this,” Marco said, handing Payton the ad agency’s storyboard. “What do you think?”
Payton cocked her head. “It’s pretty.”
“Come on. You can do better than that.”
“It is pretty.” Payton hesitated. “And Elegant. Classic. Refined.”
“Be honest. You’re not going to hurt my feelings. I know there’s problems with it, but my fragrance director—” he dropped his voice and nodded to the petite woman pacing near by “—has her own ideas.”
“And this is hers?” Payton asked, flipping through the pages in the portfolio.
“It’s the closest we’ve come to a compromise.”
Payton’s nose wrinkled. “It is a little flat,” she said after a moment. “It doesn’t feel…young.”
“I know. So what would you do differently if this were your ad?”
Payton exhaled slowly. Was he serious? “But it’s not my ad. I’m with Calvanti. You’re d’Angelo.”
“That’s true. But you once worked for me. You know me.”
Never mind that she’d slept with him, gotten pregnant and had his babies.
Payton looked up, met his gaze. He was waiting for her to say something. “Maybe I do know your standards, but I don’t want to interfere. These ads cost a fortune—”
“Which is why I want your opinion.” His dark eyes scanned her face. “You’re good, Payton. You’ve got a great eye, an intuitive feel for design.”
Did he just pay her a compliment? She folded her arms across her chest. “So Calvanti didn’t hire me for my name.”
His dark eyes glowed. His lips twitched. He glanced behind him at his daughters and then back at her. “Not entirely.”
Not good enough. Her eyebrow lifted.
Marco muttered something beneath his breath. “Okay, they were lucky to get you, and it has nothing to do with the d’Angelo name. You’re good. Very, very good. But you would have been great here.”
Was that regret in his voice? Had there perhaps been more opportunity, more possibility here in Milan with Marco than she’d thought? Could it have worked out between them differently?
“What’s your target market?” Payton asked, needing to know since she hadn’t read the market report.
“Twenties and thirties.”
“The young adult.” Payton studied the storyboard again. “The colors are right, and the red dress is beautiful—”
“It’s vintage d’Angelo,” Marco interjected.
“Yes, I know. It’s your father’s first signature gown.” Payton looked up at him and grinned a little. “I could tell you everything about your father. I’ve studied his work for years.”
“So how do we save this ad before I lose fifty thousand dollars?”
“Well, your model looks positively sleepy here.” She tapped the artist’s drawing. “Worse, she’s bored. You’re not selling perfume to old ladies. You’re selling to modern women who want excitement and adventure.”
“What do we change?”
“A little bit of everything. I think you can still use the same set, as well as the vintage d’Angelo gown. The ruby color is perfect, red is timeless and it’s always modern, but take the gloves off the model and for heaven’s sake, get her off the couch.”
“That’s it,” Marco said, turning and gesturing to Maria, his fragrance director. “Right, we’re going to make some changes,” he told his team. “Get the stylist, and the art director. Payton will explain what she wants to do.”
Payton explained her vision for the ad.
When she finished Maria squinted at the set. “I don’t see it,” she said shortly. “I don’t understand how a girl dancing is going to make this ad work.”
“It’s my money,” Marco said with a shrug. “Let’s give it a shot and see.”
Payton glanced behind her at the twins, saw that they’d grown irritable and fidgety. “I think the girls are getting tired.”
“You’re right. We’ve tried their patience, haven’t we?” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll have Pietra come with the driver and take them home. Pietra’s a former preschool teacher that I’ve hired while you’re here. Friends have used her and say she’s wonderful. I think you’ll like her.”
A half hour later Pietra arrived for the girls and she’d brought along a cookie for each and some coloring books. “Want to go draw at home?” she asked. “Your papa has bought you some wonderful crayons and color markers.”
The twins were delighted to escape the studio and cheerfully kissed Payton and Marco goodbye.
With the girls gone the studio took on a serious air and the photographer, model and crew got down to work. Payton liked what she saw as the photographer clicked away. The gorgeous model still wore the snug gown d’Angelo gown, dark crimson, tightly fitted, off the shoulder with plunging neckline. But now instead of lolling about, she looked positively playful as she lifted her hands to catch handfuls of scarlet confetti. No longer restrained, the model’s head was tipped back as she laughed in the bright red confetti rain.
“The marriage of old and new,” Marco said quietly, nodding his head in approval. “It’s the past and the future. She’s wearing d’Angelo’s signature scarlet gown and yet the confetti is fun.”
Payton glanced at him and smiled. “The glamour and elegance of d’Angelo with the boldness of the modern woman.”
“Exactly.”
Payton could tell from Marco’s tone that he couldn’t be more pleased and she felt a thrill of satisfaction. It was the first time she worked with him in years and yet it felt so natural.
It felt exactly right.
“Benissimo,” Marco said at the end as the photographers took their final shots. “I really like it. I think you’ve done it.”
They left the studio together. Twilight was settling over the city as Marco opened the passenger door of his Ferrari for her. “You must be hungry. We ended up working through lunch.”
It wasn’t the first time Payton had worked through lunch. “Is this a new car?” she asked, climbing in. Payton had always loved Marco’s cars. He took great care of them and the black Ferrari still smelled of expensive leather and the lingering spice of his cologne.
“It’s about two years old,” he answered, settling into the driver’s seat.
“I like it,” she complimented, shooting him a quick glance. A shadow of a beard darkened his jaw and a thick lock of hair fell forward on his brow. Her stomach did a flip. She still responded to him, still wanted to touch him.
Marco started the car. “Thanks again for your input. You were brilliant today. You did what I hoped you’d do.”
He shifted into drive and in minutes they were merging into traffic, heading back toward center of town. “What do you think of Maria?” he asked after a moment.
Maria had pretty much kept he
r distance, but Payton knew the fragrance director wasn’t happy having Payton intrude. “I think she’s still learning,” Payton said carefully.
“You mean she’s not a risk-taker.”
Payton hated to judge one of his staff members. Calvanti was an edgier house. D’Angelo had flair but tended to be more conservative overall. “I don’t know. I couldn’t get a feel for her. She’s probably great.”
Marco looked at Payton, eyes narrowed appraisingly. “That means you don’t like her. You don’t think she’s right for the job.”
“Okay, I don’t know that she’s right for fragrance. Fragrance is competitive.”
“So where would you put her? Textiles? Home furnishings?”
“Accessories. She likes elegance and classic lines. Your leather collection is definitely classic. Shoes, purses, belts.”
The lights of the city were coming on and slowly Milan began to sparkle. Marco took an exit, shifted down heading toward the city’s historic center and Marco’s town house near the fashion district.
“I don’t think I’ll tell Maria your suggestion,” he said, smiling wryly as he navigated the narrow streets, still congested with traffic as commuters made their way home. “She thinks accessories are dull.”
“Purses make design houses a fortune.”
Marco laughed softly. “You’re getting smart.”
“I’ve always been smart,” she flashed back, still buoyed by the day’s success. “I just happen to be wiser now.”
