Chapter
One
Milan, Italy
“Vestito
sexy o modesto?” Natalia Dolcini wrinkled
her nose in distaste and glared at the two dresses in front of her.
She rarely did modest. What was the point? But
this was a stuffy event and most likely mind-numbingly dull if the name of the
dinner was anything to go by. After all, nothing screamed tedious like the European
Financiers’ Annual Banquet.
Lips pursed, hands on her hips, she tapped her fingers
along her generous curves and tried to decide which to wear. Looking over her
shoulder at her housekeeper, Carlotta, Natalia silently asked her opinion.
Carlotta pointed to the modest dress. “It would be a change—”
“Damn!” she cursed. “We must
remember to speak in English.”
Carlotta
snorted, “Why must we speak in a foreign language?”
“I told
you, Carlotta,” Natalia said and returned her attention back to the dresses. “I’m
making everyone at the shop speak in English. It’s my rule since I have everyone
from New York to the moon working with me,” Natalia added with a wild flourish
of her hands.
“The one language they can all speak is
English.” She paused and added with another laugh. “Even the green headed Martians.
So I must make sure mine is good and yours, too!”
Natalia
laughed and curled a lock of dark hair around her finger. “And have I told you
how amusing it is to see Gina and Violet argue over the Queen’s English versus
American English?”
“Funny,
I’m sure.” Carlotta shrugged with a scowl that clearly said it wasn’t funny. “Now,
if you had been home when you were supposed to be,” she added with a cluck of
her tongue. “You would have time to try them both on. But late as always.”
“Blame the
red cocktail dress at the office.” Natalia rolled her eyes. “Not me.”
“Or should
we blame the red cocktail?” Carlotta asked with a suspiciously raised eyebrow.
Natalia
rolled her shoulders and turned from the dresses where they hung on porcelain
hooks along the wall. The best decision she’d made in this house was to remove
that useless little sitting room and fashion this dressing area. A large, floor
length mirror covered one wall and happy little birds flitted about the
wallpaper that covered the other walls.
Carlotta
continued to frown at her, even as Natalia’s mind wandered from her dress
choice. She’d never been so happy to hear the house phone ring as right then.
Carlotta was a gem, one who often overstepped her bounds, but a gem
nonetheless. She’d been with the Dolcini family for ages and considered herself
a mother hen, a snarky overbearing mother hen, in Natalia’s opinion. Despite
that, Natalia loved her.
As Carlotta answered the phone, Natalia turned
back to her dresses.
“Dolcini residenza.” Carlotta paused. “Of
course, of course.” Natalia turned to look at her as she held out the phone. “Signora Marquez.”
Short silk robe
swirling around her thighs, she continued to eye her dresses and took the phone
from Carlotta. “Sabrina!” she said in genuine pleasure, then frowned. “Is
anything wrong?”
