Page 34 of Lorenzo

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, genuinely concerned. “But you must admit it gives your persona backbone.”

“Antoine, let’s get one thing straight. I won’t have you manipulate my family’s history to conform to Lorenzo’s twisted vision of ‘Mrs. Ricci.’”

He holds his hands up in the air, as if to show he’s not carrying a gun.

“Fine. Then how would you characterize your family’s history?”

I look him in the eyes.

“What you say is true. My family was once among the most respected in Boston. But we’ve been living on the financial edge for years now.”

I pause, thinking how much I want to tell him.

“And you make me sound like some sort of socialite. I studied restaurant management at Boston University for the last three years. Next year I’d be applying to graduate school. But then Uncle Eton …”

“Then what?”

My thoughts darken. No need to get into the Uncle Eton business now.

“Just family drama. So go ahead, Antoine. Let’s start the transformation.”

Antoine settles me into a comfortable-looking chair. He snaps his fingers. Within a few seconds, several girls walk down the catwalk.

“They all look to be exactly my size. How did that happen?” I say, turning to Antoine.

“Mr. Lorenzo described you.”

“What?” I instinctively wrap my arms around myself.

What is Lorenzo doing describing my body so accurately to a stranger?

Was he sneaking peeks at my body when I wasn’t looking?

An odd sense of being violated washes over me.

The fashion show begins.

True to Lorenzo’s vision for my persona, the dresses modeled are not scandalous at all.

Elegant and subtle, they’re a style even Aunt Jane would approve of.

“They’re all gorgeous,” I say of the chic, mostly black or neutral-toned dresses. “How do we decide on which ones to purchase?”

“No need to choose between them. Take them all. And expect me to send you more when various events pop up on Mr. Ricci’s calendar.”

I feel overwhelmed. This is not real life.

“Ah, but it is,” Antoine says, pouring himself another glass of champagne. “Welcome to your new reality.”

CHAPTER 16

EMILY

“Good afternoon, Signora Ricci,” says Ernesto, stepping out of the waiting limo to open its heavy door outside the iconic Saks department store.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling slightly self-conscious as pedestrians gawk at the way I move towards the waiting luxury car.

Yet at the same time, I feel a thrill of exhilaration as a childhood fantasy comes true.