An hour later the motorcade wound its way through the narrow streets of Rome. It was 6.30 am, the city was quiet and it was still warm but blessedly cooler than the intense heat of the August sun in the Eternal City. They were moving early, in part because it was going to be a long day, and in part to avail of some cooler air, making the whole experience a little more comfortable for everyone, perhaps too in the hopes of attracting a little less attention.
Jill was excited when the motorcade turned into the Piazza di Spagna in the city. Imposing storefronts lined the street, the facade of one more beautiful than the next. As they drew up outside the Dolce & Gabbana studio Joe exited the beast and immediately made his way around the car, helping Jill from the vehicle, holding her hand in his, wrapping his arm around her, drawing her close, and nuzzling her neck. Making sure all the attention was on her. The cameras of the assembled press pool clicked wildly. Jill grinned and leaned into him and they both waved to the media as they stepped inside the building.
The early morning editions of the European papers placed the photo directly onto the front page. The President being so tactile with the First Lady on her way into the shoot for her second Vogue cover dominated the airwaves and print media in Europe and America all morning. Exactly as it was intended.
They were greeted inside the foyer by the store manager, a senior representative of the fashion house, the Vogue cover artist, and the Vogue photographer. 'Mr. President, Madam First Lady we are honored by your presence ...' Following the initial greetings the First Couple were ushered through the vast marble floors, where glass and gold and Carerra marble vied for attention. For Joe, nothing could compete with the beauty of his wife. He proudly walked beside her, and gently squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, gazing directly into his eyes, her smile settling within his heart pushing aside the lump of horror that had lodged there since reading the briefings this morning.
For the next two hours, the finest make-up artists of Italy worked on the First Lady, enhancing her natural beauty, the contours of her face, the rise of her cheekbones, the color of her eyes. Finally, she stepped into a perfectly cut white suit. A new design from her favorite Schiaparelli studio. Crafted with the First Lady in mind it fit like a glove. She felt herself relax a little.
Jill's husband was busy too. In a room nearby, sealed off by agents and made secure by a dizzying array of gadgetry and high-tech equipment he received a security update. Not the usual daily brief, this one just concentrated on the war, the targets hit overnight, the status of the armament convoys bound to cross over today, and the location of President Zelensky. The change or otherwise in Russia's nuclear posture.
When Joe was finished he took some moments to chat over the final plan for the day to come, making small adjustments as necessary following the briefing. Everyone checked their tasks, this all had to go smoothly; lives depended on it.
Soon the First Couple said their goodbyes and their thanks. Joe helped his wife into the beast, this time under an awning and unseen by the press. The wardrobe choices for the shoot could not be revealed until the magazine hit the shelves. He climbed in beside her, complimenting her on the outfit, on her makeup, on her styling. He reached across to take her hand in his, settling back against the cool leather of the seat. 'You doin' ok?', she asked him as he closed his eyes for a moment's respite. 'Was the briefing what you expected?' He nodded; everything is going according to plan', he said, opening his eyes and turning his head to look towards her. 'It'll be all over to you now soon babe', he confirmed, eyes searching hers. She nodded emphatically, 'I told you, I'm ready honey', she said with absolute determination. He grinned, 'I love you babe', 'you too', she agreed, 'you too Joe', she repeated resting her palm on his face. They chatted quietly for the remainder of the short ride.
