I froze, then took a deep breath, excitement bubbling up inside me. “Perfect. Put them through.”
The call connected, and the director’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Hello, Ms. Moretti, this is Ms. Hisana Basharcalling from Modanisa. I wanted to personally discuss the details of our upcoming collaboration.”
“Thank you for calling,” I said, my voice steady with eagerness. “I’m thrilled about this opportunity and looking forward to working together.”
Her voice held a note of enthusiasm as she detailed our collaboration. We discussed the upcoming campaign’s vision, the integration of my designs with Modanisa’s unique brand aesthetic, and the innovative marketing strategies we’d implement. She was particularly excited about the prospect of a cross-promotional event that would blend our styles in a way never done before.
We also touched on the logistics, including the schedule for promotional activities and the selection of key influencers to drive the campaign’s success. Her confidence in the project and her shared vision for its success made me even more eager to dive in.
As we finished up the call, the door swung open and, to my surprise, it was none other than my beautiful mother.
“Mamma!” I exclaimed in delight upon seeing her face. “How are you?”
She walked over to my desk, placing her purse on the chair, “I am well,bambina. How are you? You look amazing!”
I got up from the chair to hug her. Sometimes, all a girl needed was a hug from her mother. She melted in my embrace, her Jimmy Choo perfume as strong as ever, and we stood there for a while.
Times like these, I looked around and thought of how grateful I was to have a mother like mine. Nicolette Moretti, my hero and my supermom.
Pulling from the hug, I said, “I’m good, Mamma. Busy but good.”
She nodded, a smile present on her face as she took a seat.“I see that, baby, and wow,” she said as her eyes landed on the framed features hung around my office. “These are gorgeous. Who did these for you?”
I smiled sheepishly. “Ronan, and speaking of... I have something to tell you.”
She beamed at me, her pride radiating. “You and him are back together?”
“How did you know?” I asked, confused. “Did Inaya say something?”
She shook her head, her eyes softening. “A few days after your fashion show, he came to see me.”
What? He never mentioned this.
“What did he say?”
“He wanted my blessing. He came to tell me he loves you and is here to stay.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Do you believe him?”
She looked at me with such tenderness. “To have a man like him come to my doorstep and declare his love for you... of course, I believe him. And by the look on your face, I can tell you do, too.”
I nodded, my heart swelling. “I do. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”
She chuckled softly. “Self-praise is no recommendation.”
“Are you serious, Mamma?” I asked, stunned.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” she said, rising to her feet. “I may be old, but I know the eyes of a man who loves a woman, and I know the eyes of a woman who loves a man.”
I quickly wiped away the tears, thinking about Ronan, about how incredible he was.
“Are you moving to the city?” she asked, surprising me.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling torn. “My life is here.”
“Nina, it doesn’t have to be complicated. What’s stopping you?”
“My boutique is here, and you’re here. Italy is my home.”
