Chapter 14
Lauren
“Is it true?”André asks, taking custody of Truffles as I plop my purse, file folders, and jacket on the top part of mydesk.
Truffles immediately supplies André a barrage of licks to theface.
“Yes, it is true. Make sure Celesté knows we are expecting Antonio Michaels, CEO ofCraveMelingerie this morning and to make him feel as comfortable as possible when he enters thebuilding.”
Antonio is the designer I have a meeting with this morning. Sure, his new wife, Daniella, will start working for me later this week, and I could have waited until then to schedule this meeting, but time is a ticking. I need to lock in my firstadvertiser.
André fans his face. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Oh. My. Gosh. I, am going to meettheAntonio Michaels. Boss, you know I’m a total fanboy. I feel like it was just yesterday I told youthis.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Itwasjust yesterday,” I say, annoyance unhidden in mytone.
Truffles stops drowning André’s cheeks, only to look at me, letting out a singlearfas if to scoldme.
Brat.
Last night, when I sifted through all of the designers André provided information on, I couldn’t seem to find one, who in my mind, fits what I am after for the birth edition ofHaute Couture Magazine. I want to feature clothes made by the guest designer to beedgy.
Relevant. Sensual.Cool.
Diór won’t be interested, not this early on anyway. Others seem to be borderline competitors. I don’t want to parade competitors. Then I thought about reaching out to branding departments of vehicle manufacturers, have them include a spread of one of their sexiest line of cars, but the brands I had in mind are out of reach on such shortnotice.
That’s whenCraveMecame straight to mind. Sure, it’s sexy lingerie. But it’s also tasteful elegance I think women will want to wear underneath my line of clothing. And I have an idea that may make Antonio happier than a billionaire in CostaRica.
An hour later, Celesté, the office receptionist, informs me via the intercom that Antonio has arrived for our meeting. André is beside himself, but promises to reel his fanboy ass in for themeeting.
“I’ll be back soon, hun. Just lay here on your bed until I come back,” I say to Truffles before I head out of myoffice.
Inside the conference room, André and I are greeted by the very handsome Antonio who was peering out the window, with its spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower, the star. Seeing him in person, I can totally see why women and André swoon over him. He is damn yummylooking.
Daniella is one luckywoman.
He walks over from the window to us, his mouth wearing a half-smile.
Tall. Suave. And he smells good, too. All suited up inArmani.
“Good morning,” he says, shaking first my hand then André’s—who is so far, playing it cool, even though he keeps fanning his face. Gosh, I hope he doesn’t pass out. Like when he met Beyoncé. It wasn’t really her by the way. It was in Las Vegas. A marketing gig at the wax museum. We don’t really talk about itanymore.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. I know you and Daniella are busy getting settled into your new home, part of the reason she won’t start working here until later thisweek.”
He nods and flashes a warm smile. “No worries, Daniella wanted me out of her hair for a while anyway so she can decorate thehouse.”
The three of us stand, in an awkward silence, before I gesture for Antonio to have a seat at one of the chairs around the circular conference room table. This room has got to be one of my favorites. It’s the room where members of my design team present ideas to me once a month. The three walls are painted a cool promenade white, each wall adorned with one word splashed across it in a thick onyx-colored brushy font. Dreamy. Influential. Posh. Three words that will always embody the makeup ofHauteCouture.
We all choose a seat to ease into, and while I feel a twinge of nervousness brewing in the pit of my gut, I clear my throat and say, “So, Antonio, I called this meeting because things are about to heat up atHauteCouture.”
He shifts in his seat and rubs the stubble growing along his chin. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. What’sup?”
I spill the same pitch I gaveLa Boutique—my vision ofHaute Couture Magazine, it taking over the fashion and shoppingworld.
The gleam in his eyes tells me his interest ispiqued.
So Icontinue.
“La Boutiquehas given me an interim, yes. But I’ll need to secure my first guest designer. In other words, they want to know who my advertiser willbe.”
