like it or not, he was her boss. The man who could green-light or kill her dream. Either she could keep fighting that fact, fighting him as she had been for the past six months, or she could prove him wrong. And since launching Vivre in time for Christmas, preserving her legacy, was all that mattered, her decision was clear.
Her first step was to dust herself off after her disastrous performance last night and make her first day back in New York a success.
A determined fire lighting her blood, she dressed in her most stylish cherry-colored suit, walked to work amid the crisp autumn glory and spent the morning meeting with Giorgio about Vivre.
She was excited to discover the splashy Christmas launch in Times Square she had planned was doable, but the tight deadlines to complete the advertising campaign made her head spin. It meant she would have to have her celebrities secured within the next week, their advertising spots filmed shortly thereafter, which might actually be impossible given how slow those things worked.
But it was doable. She focused on that as she spent the rest of the day nailing down the details Nico had requested so he would have nothing to question when she presented him with the revised plan. Then she took Mireille out for dinner at Tempesta Di Fuoco, Stefan Bianco’s hot spot in Chelsea, as she turned her attention to her most pressing issue.
Celebrities were her sister’s world. Socially connected in a way Chloe had never been with her sparkling, extroverted personality and undeniable beauty that mirrored their mother’s icy blonde looks, there were few people Mireille didn’t know in Manhattan.
Her sister refused to talk business until they had exotic martinis sitting in front of them. “All right,” she said, sitting back with her drink in hand. “Tell me about the campaign.”
Chloe cradled her glass between her fingers. “It’s about an authentic beauty, as you know. About expressing your true colors. But we’re approaching it from a different point of view with each perfume. One, for example, is about moving past your physical limitations. Another about incorporating a difficult past as part of what makes you unique. Irreplaceable.”
“I love it,” said Mireille, looking intrigued. “It’s brilliant. Give me your list.”
Chloe took a deep breath. “Number one. Carrie Taylor.” The supermodel had made it big as a plus-size model and was gracing the cover of every magazine on the newsstands.
Mireille cocked a brow. “You aren’t reaching high, are you?”
“I told you I was. Second is Lashaunta.” A pop singer who had recently had a string of chart-topping records, she had forged a successful career despite a prominent scar on her face. Or perhaps because of it, as it gave her such a distinctive look.
“Next?”
“Desdemona Parker.” A world-class athlete, she’d made it to the top of her sport despite the inherited disease that had nearly ended her career. “And finally,” Chloe concluded, “Eddie Carello for our men’s fragrance.”
Mireille blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“He’s a survivor,” Chloe said quietly. “He grew up in the projects. He perfectly embodies the spirit of Soar.”
Mireille let out a husky laugh. “I can see why Nico cut you down to size. He’s not wrong about the brand taking a hit. It isn’t going to be an easy sell. Do you have backups?”
Chloe listed them. “But I need my A list. It’s Nico’s nonnegotiable.”
Her sister pursed her lips. “I can help with Lashaunta and Carrie. You’re out of luck with Desdemona and Eddie, however. Eddie is near untouchable, he’s too hot right now. Desdemona, I have no connections to, and neither does anyone in our PR department. We’re not big in sports.”
Chloe’s face fell.
“Lazzero, however,” her sister mused, “might be able to help. I read in the paper this morning Eddie is attending the launch party for Blaze, Lazzero’s new running shoe, at Di Fiore’s tomorrow night. Desdemona has an endorsement deal with Supersonic. She might be there, too.”
Chloe chewed on her lip. Her father had been godfather to all the Di Fiore brothers when his good friend Leone had died, including Nico’s middle brother, Lazzero, and youngest, Santo. But only Nico had ended up at Evolution after her father had taken him on as his protégé. Lazzero and Santo had put themselves through school on sports scholarships, going on to found one of the hottest sportswear companies on the planet in Supersonic, with an investment from Martino to help them along.
Chloe’s lashes lowered. “I wanted to do this by myself. To prove to Nico I can.”
“Lazzero is not cheating. Lazzero is being resourceful.”
Chloe tapped her fingernails on the table. “Do you think he’d let us attend the party?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Mireille picked up her phone and made the call.
“Lazzero, darling,” she purred. “I need you.”
Whatever was said on the other end of the phone made her laugh. “I do so call you just to chat. But right now, Chloe and I need a favor. We need an invite to your party tomorrow night to chat up Eddie Carello and Desdemona Parker for an influencer deal.”
Mireille frowned at Lazzero’s response. “Oh, she isn’t? That’s too bad. Eddie is, though, right?”
Chloe’s stomach dropped. No Desdemona.
Mireille nodded at whatever Lazzero said in response. “It won’t be me, I have plans. It will be Chloe. And I will pass the message on. You are, as usual, a doll.”
Chloe eyed her as she signed off. “What did he say?”
“Desdemona is out of town, but he’s emailing me and her agent and making the introduction. As for the party, it’s a yes. He’ll leave your name at the door.” A wicked smile curved her sister’s lips. “He said to wear a short dress. Eddie likes legs.”
* * *
And so that was how Chloe found herself the following night passing her credentials to the big lug in a dark suit at the door of Di Fiore’s, the upscale bar in midtown Manhattan Lazzero and Santo ran as part of their sports conglomerate.
Clad in the very short, rose-gold dress Mireille had lent her and surrounded by the trendy crowd, Chloe felt hopelessly out of place.
“You can come this way,” said the lug, plucking Chloe out of the lineup and ushering her through a side door and into the party that was already in full swing. There he handed her over to a hostess who led her through a crush of people to where Lazzero held court at the bar. He was supremely sophisticated all in black. Chloe had always found his hawk-like profile and dark eyes highly intimidating. Unlike Nico, who had intrigued her from the very beginning with his quiet, serious demeanor—as if the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders.
Lazzero, however, made an effort to put her at ease, handing her a glass of wine and chatting idly with her about what she and Mireille were up to. Having not had time to eat, Chloe felt the wine go straight to her head, making the crowd seem much less unapproachable.
After
