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Cristiano frowned as she recounted the offer. “Are you sure you want to take that on? There will be a lot going on that night.”
She brushed the objection aside. “It will be brilliant for her. There is no experience like it. Nicholas will be there, the excitement will translate to him and it will be a moment she’ll never forget. Plus, if Ming Li is serious about a career in modeling, she will also get to see the pressure, the intensity of it all. If she still wants to do it after that, she will have the full picture. She willknow.”
A reluctant smile curved his mouth. “In that case, I think it’s a fantastic idea. I’m hoping to have the deal done by then, but if anything, it will provide a very resounding exclamation point to the night.Grazie mille,” he murmured, fixing those amazing blue eyes on her, “for everything you’ve done tonight. Ming Li clearly had a wonderful time.”
She tried to ignore how that meltingly slow smile affected her insides. Lit a flush beneath her skin that seemed to spread body-wide. “It was nothing. I had fun. Did you get things ironed out with Nicholas?”
A frown creased his brow. “There are a few things left to finesse. Speaking of which,” he said, nodding toward his family, congregated at the bar, “I should give them an update.”
She balked when he set a hand to her waist and would have propelled her there, the idea of facing Cristiano’s supremely aristocratic family with the rumors about her and Alexandre still circulating distinctly unappealing. Federico, Cristiano’s uncle, had always been somewhat aloof; Marcella, his grandmother, the matriarch of the family, was frankly terrifying; Ilaria, Cristiano’s sister, who headed up FV’s public relations, the only Vitale she had a warm relationship with.
“I have a few people I should say hello to,” she protested. “Perhaps I should—”
“Afterward,” he interrupted, brushing over her protest and shepherding her toward his family. “This won’t take long. Ilaria made me promise to bring you by. She saw the proofs of the collection and is over the moon.”
Jensen acquiesced, if reluctantly. She did love Ilaria, and she was equally excited about the shoot. Squaring her shoulders, she allowed Cristiano to guide her to where his family stood assembled at the bar, set up outside on the warm, sultry night. She greeted Federico, Cristiano’s uncle and head of the company’s Italian operations, first, who offered a cool if polite greeting, then Marcella. If the ice-cold look on the silver-haired matriarch’s elegantly lined face was anything to go by, she’d been right in her presumptions. Marcella had heard the gossip about Alexandre and was less than impressed.
She exchanged perfunctory kisses with the matriarch, steeling herself against the icy chill directed her way, then turned and greeted Ilaria, brushing a kiss to the tall, attractive brunette’s cheek.
“Don’t mind her,” Ilaria murmured, pressing a kiss to her other cheek. “She just received an earful from the church about your dip in the fountain. They are all quite scandalized. She is also a personal friend of Queen Sofia, so you’re hitting her from all angles. You look amazing, by the way.”
Jensen cast a thankful look at Ilaria as she pressed a glass of champagne into her hands. She’d been intent on nursing one glass the entire night in an attempt to keep her head clear, but forthis, she just might need it.
Ilaria drew her into conversation while Cristiano and Federico talked business. Ilaria’s illustrious MBA and whip-smart brain had earned her the director of communications job at FV at age thirty, an impressive feat by anyone’s standards. Yet she had always picked Jensen’s brain on marketing, recognizing her social influence and her ability to reach the young women who were crucial to the brand.
She and Ilaria talked strategy until Cristiano and Federico concluded their rather heated discussion and joined in, the conversation shifting to the busy fall fashion season ahead and FV’s fiftieth anniversary party, which would kick off Milan Fashion Week, highlighting Francesco’s historic contributions to Italian fashion. The perfect precursor to Pascal’s spectacular debut collection for FV, which would follow at the end of the week.
The anniversary party, which Ilaria was organizing, would be a star-studded event, hosted at a glorious Milanese landmark. Jensen found herself entranced by Ilaria’s brilliant idea of ending the evening with an auction of Francesco’s most famous dresses, one from every year he’d been designing, with the proceeds donated to the local hospital charity Marcella sat on the board of.
“It will be magical,” Jensen murmured, her brain conjuring up all sorts of wonderful images.
“Si.”Ilaria sighed. “I love the idea. But I’m afraid I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. My team is maxed, and it’s a logistical beast curating all the gowns.”
Jensen was still caught up in the magic of it all. “How are you going to display them?”
“A museum-like retrospective...we have a beautiful open space to do it in.”
A vision built itself in Jensen’s head, layer building upon layer. “What if you did it live instead? Used some of the original models who wore the dresses... I’m sure there will be quite a few of them attending the party.”
A glitter entered Ilaria’s eyes. “Oh,” she breathed, “that would be incredible. What a story it would be. The original supermodels in the original dresses. It would blow the roof off the night.”
“You have no time,” Cristiano interjected. “You are already working until midnight every evening.”
Whereas she had time, Jensen thought, chewing on her lip. The collection was almost shot, the television commercial the last big piece to come. “I could do it,” she offered. “I have the contacts. I could pull in some favors from friends to fill out the lineup. Handle the logistics of the auction for you so it would free up your time. I’ve done a million charity events like this.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Marcella interjected, directing a pointed look at Jensen. “This is not a publicity stunt to flog the Vitale name. The type of...sensational, headline-grabbing events you are used to. It is a serious charitable endeavor that requires class and commitment. It’s the biggest event this company has done in its history. It needs to be done right.”
Jensen’s fingers tightened around her glass, the insinuation she had no class stinging her skin. She was used to the criticism of her scandalous family and the manufactured celebrity it traded on. And yes, many of the events she’d done as a Davis had been just such high-profile occasions designed to generate headlines. But they had also been rooted in good—her mother a champion of the community. To have Marcella throw it in her face like that, when she’d spent the past year devoting herself to putting FV back on the map again, was just too much to take.
Cristiano, who’d detected the temperature change, set a warm palm to her waist, but she ignored it, too annoyed to heed it. Directed a pointed look at Marcella. “I am well aware of the importance of this event,” she said evenly. “And I understand the last few weeks have been a bit rocky—something that I apologize for. I will do better. But if the purpose of this auction is to draw attention to an historic anniversary for the brand as well as generate profile for a good cause,thatis something I know how to do. I am well aware of what thetoneshould be.”
Ilaria flicked a glance from her grandmother to Jensen, clearly attempting to figure out how to navigate this battle. “The photo of Jensen at the AMAs is the most popular post on Instagram this year,” she pointed out. “Fifteen millionpeople have liked it. The PR department has been deluged with inquiries on where to buy Pascal’s dress. I think she could really help us move the needle on this.”
Marcella opened her mouth to object, but Cristiano silenced her with a wave of his hand. “I think it’s an excellent idea,” he weighed in. “The PR department will appreciate another charitable activity on Jensen’s part, given the recent headlines. Jensen clearly has the clout to help Ilaria blow this thing out of the water. It makes perfect sense. Of course,” he concluded, “she will be wearing the final dress of the evening as the current face of the brand.”
Marcella raised a silver brow, as if to ask her grandson if he knew the disaster he was inviting. Cristiano ignored it completely. “It’s decided, then. I think it’s a fantastic idea.”
Jensen was still fuming when Cristiano separated them from his family and shepherded her through the crowd, the party still going strong as guests enjoyed after-dinner drinks and dancing in the square, champagne flowing from fountains like water, the elegant fairy-tale lighting in the palazzo casting a warm glow over the night. Deciding she needed a few moments to cool down, and done with his quota of small talk for the evening, Cristiano directed her toward the dance floor, set off by a series of twinkling lights.
