Page 133 of The Wedding

The woman was so tense that she looked like she was about to burst open at her seams. Not that she had many seams to burst. Such were the niceties of sweater dresses. “No, never mind. I won’t pretend. I’m sure Etta told you things that weren’t any of her business.”

“Er…” Jamie just wanted to eat her dinner.

“Not that she has any room to judge. She fucked how many of her personal assistants?”

Jamie choked to hear that mumble come out of Adele’s perfectly pink lips. “Isn’t that a pastime for the rich, anyway?”

“You would think. I try not to be a stereotype, though. Easiest way to make the old money type lose respect for you.”

“Is that why you weren’t open about your relationship with your assistant?”

“Oh, honey, there were many reasons for that. Like him being nothing more than a toy.” A knife squealed against Adele’s dinner plate – Jamie could feel that sound in her teeth. “A lifeless, useless toy.”

That nap was sure sounding like an awesome idea.

Chapter 43

Jamie awoke to find sunlight back in the cabin… and buildings coming into view outside the window.

One could not see many details that high up, but it was a sprawling city, probably old, surrounded by rolling green hills and dotted with gray and blue. The lower the plane descended – sending Jamie’s stomach up her throat – the more she recognized the unmistakable architecture of Italy. She would know by now, having been there every time Etta got the urge.

“Etta knows you brought me to Italy, right?” Jamie was trying not to get excited. Adele was trying to wake the hell up. “You survived?”

“She will deal.” Adele popped some pills and swallowed half a glass of sparkling water. “You will experience one of the world’s most fantastic cities frommypoint of view.”

“We’ll be landing in Milan soon,” the stewardess said. Adele had a look ofso much for that surprisespreading across her visage.

“Milan? Oh my God, the fashion capital of the world?”

“Naturally. I need new clothes, you need… things. Where else would we go?”

“I’ve been to Milan before, but…”

“With Etta, yes. Trust me, I did the Italian tour a time or two with her. She knows how to see the sights, but she doesn’t know how to shop. I know everything. You’re about to have your mind and purse blown. My treat.”

“Really?”

Adele’s wan smile was barely there. “Sure. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

They landed without issue, and they made it through immigration and customs without a bat of any Italian officer’s eyelashes. It helped that they were filthy rich, and it really helped that Adele knew how to charm any man – and woman, apparently. The one grumpy looking female officer they got was soon smiling after Adele was done with her.

A car was waiting for them outside the main terminal. They got in, Adele speaking fluent Italian to the driver and then announcing to Jamie that they were staying in one of the most beautiful historic hotels downtown. Her treat, of course.

They shared a suite with separate rooms on opposite sides and a common living area in between. The view overlooking the downtown district was divine, although it felt weird to not have Etta there sharing it.

After settling in, they had a quick brunch and then crashed for two hours in their respective rooms. The voice of an Italian woman roused Jamie, who informed her in hasty English that a car was awaiting her downstairs and that Ms. Thompson had a schedule to keep. So much for that European charm.

Jamie freshened up in her bathroom and put on one of the dresses Etta had packed for her – a green halter dress that would keep her cool in the heat but still held a flirty sophistication.Ah, it was quite Italian, wasn’t it?Maybe Etta knew what she was doing, after all. Although she sorely forgot some pajamas.Is that what one of the T-shirts is for?She probably had so much sex with her fiancée that Etta assumed she slept naked.

She wasn’t surprised when their car went toward the fashiondistrict. Adele had said she needed new clothes, but they bypassed the usual stores and studios. No Gucci, no Louis Vuitton, no Valentino, no Dolce & Gabbana, and definitely no Armani that day. Instead, the car pulled into a nondescript parking garage beneath an old building with no obvious signs or markers.

“I have a very special treat for you today,” Adele said, waiting for the doors to open on their own. “I hope you like it.”

How could Jamie not? She had no idea what was going on, but the idea that she wouldn’t appreciate it was a different story!

Each floor of this building was a separate fashion studio, although Jamie didn’t recognize any of the names on the plaques. Adele told her that these were “up and coming” designers who could finally afford some space in the fashion district. They had small boutiques elsewhere in the city, maybe a few international – in Europe, of course – but the designers were still growing their names and looking for their biggest break. They climbed the stairs to the fifth and highest floor, where a brusque woman awaited them.

“Adele! About time you got here,” she said with a terribly romantic accent. By “terrible,” one meant “pant-shitting.” Narrow eyes, long, bone-straight hair and nails as long as her lashes went straight to Adele’s face. They exchanged kisses before the introductions.