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Music blared from a wall to floor speaker system. “Wow, you did a great job.” She yelled back at Fabiana who followed her closely.

“Thanks, sweetie. Just promise me to have some fun. You do remember how?” Fabiana yelled in her ear over the music.

Mira smirked. Carole Montague, a rival, and fellow designer, rushed to her and kissed both sides of her face. The haughty Susie Chu, a fashion critic from China who used to date Kei and who wrote an unfavorable review of the event before it started, trailed her. Susie glanced her way but didn’t smile. Carole gushed over Mira’s show. They chatted up the event and the fantastic designs that graced the runway before promising to do lunch in New York if she returned this year.

“C’mon, I think Armani’s here. Let’s go say hello.”

“No. I can’t. I want a drink and to unwind first. I’m going to the VIP for a bit and sit down. Where is it?” She glanced around.

“No, Mira. Business first.”

“Please greet everyone for me. I’m just not in the mood for the crowds.”

Fabiana studied her for a moment. She relented. “Go ahead, I’ll bring him to you. The top level has several sections roped off. Security will take you to ours. Over there.”

Mira glanced to the left of the club. She squeezed Fabiana’s hand before pushing her way back through the crowd. Several people stopped her as she passed, congratulating her. The head designer of Deveraux kissed her on both cheeks. She smiled graciously and made small talk. Finding an opening she escaped with the promise to meet him on the dance floor. Nothing was marked off or designated for her section. There would be no escape this evening so she might as well make the most of it. She headed toward the bar.

“A martini, three olives, extra dry,” she said while nodding to someone who went on and on in Italian about her show. Mira blushed over the flattery and waited patiently for her drink. Accepting it, she moved away from the crowded bar, sipping, careful not to spill a drop. The music tempo changed to American rap and she grew even more tired of the atmosphere.

“Can you?Per favore? FollowSignora?”

The deep commanding voice spoke clearly above the music behind her. He spoke directly in her ear so he could be heard over the music. Her head turned and tilted back at his towering presence. She was reminded of the popular series she watched a couple of years back, The Incredible Hulk. Except this man wasn’t green. He was darkly tanned and gorgeous, with the body of a giant. The alcohol lingered on her tongue and she swallowed. Her voice came out weak and unsure. “Excuse me? Follow?”

“Venire… this way.”

He gave a nod to the roped off destination she intended to make her way to. She frowned at the giant’s attire. His dark suit was a striking contrast to everyone around her who wore white. Then it dawned on her. He must be the security Fabiana hired. “Oh, yes, I was looking for our section. Fabiana sent you to find me?”

The man blinked at her. He didn’t appear to speak English that well. A woman passed by them really close, taking the time to run her hand over the giant’s arm. She referred to him as Nico. He ignored her. His hand swiped left and forced three to four people to stumble back with a squeal of protest. He had cleared the path for her. No one dared challenge the blatant rudeness. She noticed the stairs he wanted her to climb. She nodded and headed in that direction.

Careful of her martini, she ascended the velvet blue staircase.

Fabiana kissed Armani on the cheek and said goodbye. The crowd had thickened to the point of claustrophobia and she had to turn sideways to escape those clamoring for ten seconds of the designer’s time. Just as she emerged she felt a large calloused palm capture her hand. Her head turned to offer a polite refusal of the unwanted touch, only to find Lorenzo staring down at her. She had to blink to be sure it was him in the dim lighting of the club. But how could she miss those eyes, and that strong determined handsome face of his? He wore all black to her all white party. Fabiana shook her head smiling. Gently he pulled her through the gyrating bodies on the dance floor to an open space.

“I found you.”

“Yes, you did. I had hoped you would.”

She made sure to leave his name at the door. But when she glanced down he wasn’t wearing the card that would grant him access to all the private levels. She glanced around at the security and wondered how again he had made it in without being stopped.

“Really?” His dark brow arched.

“Of course. I’ve been in your country for four weeks now and only seen you once.”

Lorenzo smiled. “Let’s change that. Tonight you and your friend should come to my villa, Lake Como.”

“Tonight? I don’t think we can.”

The strong arms circling her waist drew her in closer and his palm slid down the curve of her backside. It was a bit forward for him to touch her so intimately so soon, but pressed against his hard frame with his jeweled eyes shining down on her, she couldn’t summon an objection. “I want to know you better,” he said softly before brushing her lips with his, then licking her gloss from his mouth as if it were honey. Fabiana raised her arms around his neck.Fuck it, why not?She rose on her toes because he was indeed that tall and brought her mouth up to his. Parting her lips she intended to entice his tongue to slip inside. He tasted of mint, and the feel of his hand easing slowly down her hip sent shivers of excitement up her spine.

“Mmm, okay. I have to convince Mira,” she grinned.

Lorenzo brought his mouth to her ear and kissed it before he spoke. “Trust me. I think she’ll agree.”

Mira scanned those gathered. She didn’t recognize the faces staring back. None of the familiar people who frequented her circle of friends were present. Most of the ladies were in white, but the men weren’t dressed appropriately. Their dark suits separated them from all the others.

“This way.” Her escort said in an exact firm manner, which drew her attention to the opposite side of the roped off room. Two menacing looking men stood on either side of the table where Giovanni Battaglia waited. His gaze travelled over her face and searched her eyes to see if she would join him. Her curiosity as well as her vanity was aroused, silencing the warning voice in her head. The men seated at the table with him rose as if it were expected. Two of them silently walked away. The third stepped to the back of his section and stood silent. Mira forced her legs to move. When she reached the table, he stood to greet her.

“Ciao Bella,” he smiled. The pronunciation of the word was near perfect. The man had definitely lived abroad. She was grateful that she didn’t have to struggle with an interpreter for this conversation, but even more nervous that despite her strong willed personality she saw no way to avoid a sit down with him. Giovanni extended his hand. She extended hers. He again kissed her knuckles tenderly. He lifted his eyes to hers, and the firepower made her cheeks warm. “Please,” he said gesturing for her to sit.