stock is in the toilet, we desperately need a hit product and Giorgio has been executing an internal smear campaign against me. It’s been a joy.”
Lazzero’s mouth curled. “He is a nuisance. He’s not a serious threat.”
But he was distracting him at a time he couldn’t afford to be distracted. When Evolution was teetering on the edge of a defining moment. And that, he couldn’t have.
A tall, lanky male with razed blond hair pushed through the crowd to the bar, leaning over to say something to Eddie. The actor gave Chloe a regretful look, then said something that made her face fall, then brighten as Carello took something out of his wallet and slid it onto the bar.
Nico’s fingers tightened around his beer bottle as the actor bent and pressed a kiss to each of Chloe’s cheeks, staining her skin with two twin spots of pink. Then he and his entourage headed off through the crowd.
* * *
A surge of triumph filled Chloe as she sat holding Eddie Carello’s agent’s business card, his parting words ringing in her ears. Call my agent. Give him the details. Tell him I gave this the green light if he’s good with it.
She shook her head bemusedly. Slid off the bar stool, a half-finished glass of champagne in her hand. The world rocked ever so slightly beneath her feet. She’d never had much of a head for alcohol, but Eddie had insisted on that glass of champagne, and OMG, he’d just said yes. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he would.
Untouchable, my foot.
She turned and headed for Lazzero to thank him. Pulled up short. Nico was standing beside his brother at the bar, the jacket of his dark suit discarded, a drink in his hand.
Her pulse went haywire. Why did that happen every time? And why did he look so good in a shirt and tie? The tie loosened, his hair ruffled, he looked younger, like he had when they’d first met. Devastating.
But that Nico didn’t exist, she reminded herself, heart thumping against her chest like a bass drum. And she’d do well to remember it.
She straightened her shoulders and walked the length of the bar to where the two men stood. Lazzero waved off her thanks and melted into the crowd to greet someone. Nico set that penetrating gray gaze of his on her.
“I told you to secure him. Meaning use the PR department. Not take on Hollywood yourself.”
She lifted a shoulder. “The PR department didn’t have access to him. Mireille said he was untouchable. So we asked Lazzero for help.”
He leaned back against the bar, his free hand crossed in the crook of his folded elbow. “What did he say?”
A victorious smile played at the corners of her mouth. It might have been her best moment ever. “He said yes.”
His eyes widened. “He did?”
“Yes. But,” she qualified, “it’s contingent on his agent’s approval.”
Nico’s gaze warmed with a glimmer of something that might have been admiration. “I’m impressed. How did you convince him?”
“I explained the campaign to him. Why he was the inspiration for Soar. He was flattered—said he liked the idea of having a fragrance created for him. It turns out,” she concluded thoughtfully, “that men are true to their biology. They like to have their egos stroked. It’s their Achilles’ heel.”
A hint of a smile played at his mouth. “That may be true,” he acknowledged. “But Carello is not to be played with. His reputation precedes him. Get his agent to sign off, then leave him the hell alone.”
“I know that.” Irritation burrowed a bumpy red path beneath her skin. “That’s why I told him I had a boyfriend. Honestly, Nico, do you think I’m a total neophyte?”
“Sometimes I do, yes.”
She made a sound at the back of her throat. “Well, you can go home now. The show’s over. Your babysitting duties are officially done for the night.”
He nodded toward her glass. “Finish that and I’ll drive you home.”
Oh, no. She was not having him shepherd her home like some stray sheep who’d wandered into the wrong field. She had conquered tonight, and she was leaving under her own steam. Because, truthfully, all she wanted was a hot shower and her bed now that the world had blissfully right-sided itself.
She lifted her chin. “I’m not ready to leave. It was so nice of Lazzero to invite me. It’s a great party. There’s dancing and everything. I think I’ll stay.”
He set his silvery gaze on hers. “Let’s go dance, then.”
Her heart tripped over itself. She knew how good it felt to be that close to all that muscle and masculinity. How exciting it was, because he’d subjected her to its full effects before he’d cast her aside and chosen another.
“I didn’t say I wanted to dance right now.” She held up her half-finished glass of champagne. “I still have this.”
“I think you’ve had enough.” He plucked the glass out of her fingers, captured her wrist in his hand and was leading her through the crowd toward the packed dance floor before she could voice an objection. She knew it for the bad idea it was before they’d even gotten there. Eddie had touched her bare thigh and hadn’t even caused a ripple. Nico’s fingers wrapped around her wrist were like a surge of electricity through her entire body. She felt it right to the tips of her toes.
But then they’d reached the mosaic-tiled dance floor with its elegant chandelier. With a smooth flick of his wrist, Nico tugged her to him. A little more pressure and she was firmly within the circle of his arms, shielded from the other dancers by his height and breadth.
One of her hands in his, the other resting on his waist, it wasn’t a close hold. But this was Nico. Every inch of her skin heated as it came into whisper-soft contact with his tall, powerful body. And then the scent of him kicked in, filling her head and electrifying her senses.
Smoky and elusive, it was pure, understated sensuality. Vetiver, the warm Indian grass known for its earthy, hedonistic appeal her mother had highlighted in Voluttuoso, her final fragrance. Chloe had always thought it was sexy. On Nico, with his overt virility and intensely masculine scent, it was knee weakening.
One dance. She kept her gaze riveted to the knot of his elegant silver tie. Unfortunately for her, the song was a jazzy, sexy tune, in keeping with the über-cool vibe of the party. A smooth, instinctive dancer, Nico was an excellent lead, guiding her steps easily in the small space they had carved out with a light pressure on her palm.
It should have been simple to exercise the mind control her yoga instructor was always preaching. Instead, her thoughts flew back to that sultry Fourth of July night that changed everything.
Her in Nico’s arms...the illicit, forbidden passion that had burst into flames between them...how for the first time in her life, she’d felt truly, completely alive.
She lifted her gaze to his, searched for some indication that everything they’d shared hadn’t been the imaginings of her eighteen-year-old mind. That she’d meant something to him like she’d thought she had. But his cool gray gaze was focused
