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She exhaled. “It’s all right. You’re here now.”
“Yes. And now,” he said, his dark eyes smiling as he reached for the champagne bottle, “we celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?” she said, her heart pounding.
After popping the bottle open, he poured two glasses and handed one to her. “I was a fool. I should have seen this long ago.”
“What?” she almost shouted.
He was going to tell her he loved her. He was going to say it right now. And then everything would be all right. They’d be happy for the rest of their lives.
Stefano looked at her. He was so handsome, his eyes so dark and devastating, that just looking at him made her heart squeeze roughly in her chest.
“I want you to know,” he said, and leaned forward, “that I’ve just managed to hire Aiko Sakurai away from Zacco as Mercurio’s new creative director.”
It was so unexpected it took her several seconds to even make sense of his words. She said weakly, “You did?”
“Yes,” he said proudly. Reaching over the table, he took her hand in his own. “But there’s more.”
Thank heaven. Tess nearly cried with relief. For a moment there she’d actually thought—
“I’d like to hire you,” he said. “As associate designer at Mercurio.”
Her jaw dropped. Her heart fell to the cold gray flagstones.
“What?”
“You’d answer directly to Mrs. Sakurai, whom you admire so much. No fetching coffee. Just doing the design work you love.” He beamed at her, then held up his hand sharply as if to ward off her protests. “I know you don’t have any experience, and it’s a big leap. But just think of what you can learn. Perhaps, in a few years, you could take over one of the smaller houses. Perhaps you can eventually take over Mercurio entirely. I have faith in you.”
“But,” she said through numb lips, “you said it would be ridiculous for me to work at a major fashion house. You said I’d have to work such long hours, and be away from Esme...”
“All my companies have on-site day care.”
“I’d still be away from her for—how long did you say? Sixty hours a week?” Her voice trembled. “And away from you.”
He shifted in his chair. “That won’t be a problem, at least for a few months. I’ve decided to sell controlling interest in my conglomerate.”
“What!” she gasped. “Sell Gioreale? All your luxury brands? Even Mercurio?”
He gave a single nod. “I’ll need to sell my shares at top price. Then I can make Fenella Montfort such an offer for Zacco that only a fool would refuse.”
“So,” she said slowly, “I wouldn’t be an associate at Mercurio for long, would I?”
His jaw set. “I’m sure the new CEO will wish for Aiko Sakurai to remain as creative director. She had global success at Zacco. She only left because she didn’t want to work with von Schreck.” He considered. “If she likes your work, she’ll want to keep you on her team.”
Tess shook her head. “You’d really sell the company you built with your own two hands? Just for your family’s old company, with von Schreck as creative director? How can that be worth it?”
He stared at her, then turned away, his jaw tight. “I’ll be traveling to get my company in order and ready for prospective buyers. In the meantime, you and Esme can go live at our apartment in Paris—”
“Without you. So I can have a possibly temporary job that no one will think I’m qualified for.”
Stefano was still holding up his champagne flute, obviously expecting her to clink her glass against his in a toast to their future. At that, he set it down.
“I’m giving you what you want most,” he said slowly. “Am I not? Arranging a job with a mentor you admire. Putting you on the path to becoming designer of a major fashion house. I thought you’d be thrilled.”
Tess stared at him.
She couldn’t believe she’d done this to herself again—twisting the bounds of reason to talk herself into believing what she wanted to believe.
