No Strings Attached

Chapter Two

The scope of Giovanni Martinelli's zigzagging building, abundant in room and space, decorated in a sleek, modern fashion, is exceedingly impressive for someone a year away from thirty. Each room has a specific purpose. Each is filled with employees hard at work. He must have over two hundred people working for him in this location alone. He also has a studio in New York.

"Does your studio in the city have this many employees?" I ask curiously as he shuts the door to the embroidery room. His tour has been full of depth and ultimately, illuminating. I had no idea so much work went into making a coat.

"No, not even close. The New York location has fifty. Milan will be far larger than New York."

I nod, remembering detailing his new location in Europe for the portfolios at the firm. "When will Milan open?"

"After the new year sometime. Probably January." I feel his eyes as I got that down onto my portfolio. "I can let you know exact dates in a week or two."

"That would be great. Thanks." When I look back up, he's smirking. "What?"

He chuckles, bewildered. "I just never see publicists write things down ever."

"What can I say? I live in the past."

"Yeah, I can see that," he counters, warmth oozing through his thick, wonderfully melodic voice. I know he's referring to my outdated sense of style. I observe my outfit.

"It's a pantsuit. It's not supposed to be stylish," I explain, matter-of-factly.

"It's purple." His smile widens, showing off two perfect rows of luminescent teeth. "Purple, like that cat in Alice in Wonderland."

I fiddle with my suit jacket, aggravated. "My suit is not the color of the Cheshire Cat."

"I beg to differ."

My lips set together stubbornly. "I happen to like the clothing I wear."

He follows me as I start down the hallway, back the way we came.

"Look, I'm sorry. I tease quite a bit. I don't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me."

"Then slow down."

I don't. "Norman White, my boss, would like to invite you to his anniversary party next Friday if you have the chance to make it."

"Will you be there?"

I stop in my tracks, now at the edge of the staircase. "What?"

He presses his lips together, resting a hand on his hip. His determination wavers. "I will see if I can make it."

I begin down the steps again, regarding him warily. "I will send you the information then... All of our business interactions will be done through my experienced team. They will be working for you day or night diligently."

"Yeah, I don't think so. I'll only do business with you."

I stop then, stiffening. "What do you mean?"

When I turn, he's looking down at me intensely. "I mean, if I'm going to sign that contract, I will work with you directly and no one else."

I am utterly speechless. "Um, Mr. Martinelli—"

"It's Giovanni, Scarlett."

Oh, he's going to be difficult. I look at him pointedly.

"Mr. Martinelli," I say, emphasizing his surname with formality. "There is simply too much to cover regarding your growing business for me to handle every detail solely on my own."