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Diego hugged her back.
Her eyes grew heavy with the weight of more tears that she thankfully blinked away. “Thank you.” She stepped back. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find Antonio.”
Questions appeared in Diego’s eyes, but he only nodded. She turned and almost ran into a woman standing right behind her.
“Oh, I’m sorry...” Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened. “You...you’re...”
The woman smiled, red-painted lips curving up. A pixie haircut kept her silver hair short and slicked back from her face, except for a dusting of fringe that lay on her smooth forehead. Her expression was friendly, but the green eyes that assessed her from behind black circular frames were shrewd and alert. “Sylvie Smythe.”
Legendary designer. Queen of fashion.
“It’s an honor, Ms. Smythe,” she managed to choke out.
Sylvie nodded her head with the regal aplomb of a queen. Her eyes darted to Diego, who still stood by the railing.
“May I have a moment of your time, Miss Vega?”
Anna nodded to Diego to let him know she was okay. Then Sylvie’s words registered and her head snapped back around as Diego walked off.
“You know my name?”
“The Virgin Designer.”
Her stomach dropped. Would she ever escape that horrid article?
Sylvie leaned in. “Leo White doesn’t know anything about fashion, and even less about women.”
“Oh. Well, he was—”
“Rude. And a bastard.”
Anna choked on a laugh. “Yes.”
“But he did do one thing right. He brought you to my attention.”
Don’t panic, don’t panic. “You looked at my portfolio?”
“Yes. I’d like to think I would have looked at your portfolio regardless, but...” She shrugged. “The important thing is I did.” Sylvie glanced down at Anna’s dress. “One of yours?”
“Yes.”
Sylvie walked around her in a circle, assessing the violet-hued, strapless gown. Anna stood frozen to the spot, afraid to even take a breath.
Sylvie stopped in front of her. Her eyes traveled over every inch of the garment. At one point, she reached out, captured a piece of skirt between her fingers and rubbed the fabric.
“Exceptional. The one you wore in the article—” She made a face. “But this, the gold one in Rome, everything I’ve seen since...exceptional.”
Dizzying elation spiraled through Anna as she fought to maintain a neutral expression.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Sylvie, please. I didn’t spend the last twenty years getting Botox to be called ‘ma’am.’”
“Sylvie, then, I—”
“Have you entered into any agreements since you became famous?”
“Agreements?”
