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Next week Olivia would be here in Venice at the centre of a celebration that would spark worldwide attention. Her gown had to be one of a kind. It was expected by the public, the press and, above all, her family.
More importantly, if all went as she hoped, this dress would be visible proof to her conservative family and a risk-averse company board that she, and her proposals, had merit. Public interest in this gown would spearhead the new venture she’d put so much effort into planning.
She’d done everything her family required of her and more. Soon she’d have the opportunity to prove herself and fulfil her dreams. She’d actually have a say in running the company she’d worked so hard to be accepted into.
Olivia glimpsed her reflection in the enormous gilt-framed mirror that caught the light from the Grand Canal spilling into the palazzo’s salon.
The woman in the antique mirror didn’t look like Olivia Jennings. Even the Olivia Jennings who’d learned, eventually, how to hold her own amongst Europe’s wealthy elite. To look stylish and poised.
This dress turned her into someone else.
At a distance the chiffon and silk looked cream, but they held a warmth that came from the fact they were actually a pale blush colour. Fitted at the bodice and falling in soft folds to her feet, the dress was decorated with a multitude of tiny appliquéd chiffon flowers, each studded at the centre with a crystal. The bodice was encrusted with them and a few were sprinkled across the top of her skirt and sheer chiffon sleeves. When she moved miniature petals stirred and crystals caught the light from the windows and the antique Venetian chandelier.
‘It’s beautiful,’ the seamstress said as she sat back on her heels, beaming. ‘You look like you’ve stepped out of a fairy tale.’
‘Which is exactly the effect we want.’ Sonia nodded. ‘Every woman wants to look like a fairy-tale princess at least once in her life.’
Not every woman.
It was a long time since Olivia had believed in fairy tales.
Early tragedy had robbed her of a comfortable belief in happy endings. Then, in her eighteenth year, any lingering romantic fantasies had been snuffed out for good.
But just because her hopes and dreams weren’t the traditional fantasies didn’t mean others didn’t have them.
She looked in the mirror again, saw the delicate flowers rise and flutter with her deep breath and felt a strange tug of yearning.
There’d been a man. Just one man in the last nine years,
who’d made her wonder for a few scant moments about instant attraction and soulmates.
It had been a crazy aberration. A moment that had felt like recognition, like a lightning bolt soldering her feet to the floor and making her heart dance to a strange, wonderful new harmony.
Of course it had led nowhere.
He didn’t even like her.
And she...well, she’d done what she’d learned to do so well. Olivia had buried her disappointment and moved on. Her grandparents were right. She was better off without fantasies of romance.
The flowers on her dress danced as she dragged in a fortifying breath.
Olivia smiled at both women. ‘You’ve done a fabulous job. The dress is gorgeous and we’ll have customers beating down the doors.’
‘If you can persuade the board,’ Sonia added, the hint of a frown at odds with the excitement in her eyes.
Olivia nodded. ‘Leave that to me. I have my strategy worked out.’ In a couple of weeks, when she finally took her promotion and her promised place on the board, she’d have the chance she’d worked for all these years. She was fully prepared.
‘Twirl for me,’ the junior seamstress said, scrutinising the hem.
Olivia pivoted on her handmade, crystal-trimmed high heels. Silk swished around her legs like a whisper. Hopefully there’d be lots of whispers from women eager to buy their own unique gown from the same source.
The seamstress got up. ‘Perfect. You’re going to steal the groom’s breath when you walk down the aisle.’
Olivia curved her lips into the expected smile. ‘Thank you.’ No point explaining how unlikely that was. She and Carlo were friends, not lovers. Theirs would be a marriage of convenience.
It mightn’t be every woman’s dream, but, from what she knew of romance, Olivia was happy to avoid that trap. Mutual respect and friendship made a solid foundation for a good marriage.
It had worked for her grandparents.
