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“I know.”
“Be careful. he can be explosive.”
“I know. I feel like he’s afraid of losing me.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Are you afraid of losing me?”
“Terrified.” I feel like he’s at least half serious. there’s no way to ever really know with Carlo, though.
I go on, “I’m sure a big part of it comes from how much he hates depending on anyone, me included.”
“For such a powerful guy, it’s really surprising, isn’t it?”
“I think I can understand it. I think my nature is a little the same. Especially after the kidnapping, maybe even more after the amnesia, it seems like he’s afraid I’ll go away again.”
Carlo nods.
I say, “There’s something else, though.”
“That thing you said,” he locks eyes with me, “In the old house…”
“Yeah.” I nod back. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”
The Olympic Excelsior Lounge may have the tallest windows I’ve ever seen.
Stefania is my wonderfully stylish personal stylist and consultant for the afternoon. Olivia and Chartress are on hand for makeup, hair and any other beauty or styling issues, as well as Camilla, who is in charge of making sure we have drinks and canapés and whatever else available.
Two models are ready to demonstrate all of the clothes and looks, prior to me trying them and taking them, or not.
Alessio isn’t interested in hearing why I don’t want the champagne, and I’m not interested in telling him, so I tip the crystal flute to my mouth every once in a while, and when I’m sure nobody is looking, I give the pot plants the most expensive watering they’re ever likely to get.
For a backdrop to an afternoon of extravagance, excess and debauchery, the Olympic mountains are hard to beat.
“Show us diamonds.” Alessio demands. And Stefania obliges. He orders up rubies, emeralds and sapphires. The sapphires are my favorites and I think they’re the best for my coloring. But he presses all the others on me, to, and I certainly don’t want to be rude.
We see fabulous dresses, tops, shirts, coats, and jackets. Prada. Bottega Veneta, Valentino, Stella. And shoes! Manolos, Louboutins. Luxury goods keep coming like a feast. I’m gorging.
I ask him, “Do I need these things?”
He laughs. “Better watch out. You never know what’s around the corner. The last month must have taught you that.”
I can’t argue. And he’s buying.
Well, I won’t run short of shoes for a while.
Alessio settles on a cushion cut ruby with yellow and white diamond side stones, round brilliant diamond stud earrings, I insist on a lovely liquid white gold necklace and we both agree on emerald cut diamond and sapphire pendant earrings, matched with a spectacular necklace and bracelet.
We’ve chosen dresses and I need to try some on.
After the first few sexy, slinky sheaths he starts to join me in the tiny, cramped fitting room. He comes into the changing room to offer his insights and helpful suggestions while I’m trying on pale rose silk, floaty shorts with Calais-Caudry lace, and a matching cut-off camisole.
“Yes. Yes, it’s fucking beautiful.”
I can easily see that he means it. He prowls close in the cramped space, stalking me, lowering his head like he’s sniffing me out.
“It’s nearly as beautiful as you are.”
