mean,’ she said, giggling again. ‘He’s a real hottie.’
‘We’ll catch up tomorrow,’ Chris said, not wishing to get into a discussion about how hot Rocky was.
‘Promise?’ she said, fidgeting like an anxious little kid.
‘Absolutely.’
He already had his day planned. The meeting with Red in the morning. Lunch with a client. A couple more meetings. Dinner with another client. Then on Saturday morning he’d catch an early flight back to L.A. And on Sunday, Vegas.
It was all work. He could handle it.
Chapter Seven
W ith her wedding only a week away, Amy’s co-workers at Courtenelli had decided she needed one wild night out on the town. She’d tried to put them off, but they were having none of it. ‘You’re getting married ,’ Yolanda, a big-bosomed Latina brunette, informed her. ‘We have to celebrate .’
‘Yes,’ agreed Dana, a curvaceous redhead with a sexy overbite. ‘You can’t get hitched without a bachelorette night. It’s tradition.’
‘And don’t think,’ Yolanda interrupted, ‘that your intended is not going to have himself a bachelor night. An’ those things get wild . Strippers, hookers, all kinda slutlings.’
‘Slutlings?’ Amy said, frowning. ‘What are they ?’
‘Girls from hell!’ Dana joked. ‘An engaged woman’s worst nightmare!’
‘You guys are so cynical,’ Amy said, shaking her head. ‘Believe me, Max is not like that.’
‘Oh, sure ,’ Yolanda and Dana chorused together, both rolling their eyes. ‘He’s a man , isn’t he? He’s got a dick , hasn’t he?’
At that moment Sofia Courtenelli appeared. In the overcrowded field of fashion, Sofia Courtenelli was a star. Chic and no-nonsense, she was in her early fifties, well preserved, with pale copper hair worn in a severe bob, skilfully applied dramatic eye make-up and a permanent St. Tropez tan. Although Sofia was a hard worker, she still managed to spend most weekends either in the South of France or the Hamptons, depending on the season. Sofia was a party animal.
‘Amy!’ she said imperiously, snapping her fingers, showing off silver nail polish and an assortment of diamond rings. ‘Follow me.’
‘Yes, Miz Courtenelli,’ Amy said, trailing her boss into Sofia’s luxuriously appointed office.
‘Sit down,’ Sofia commanded, waving her towards an over-stuffed gold-lacquered chair with leopard-print upholstery and ornate carved legs.
Amy sat, wondering what was on the agenda. She didn’t usually get a one-on-one with her glamorous and somewhat intimidating boss.
‘Is true you getting married?’ Sofia said, in her low-down, slightly accented voice. Amy nodded. ‘To Max Diamond?’
‘That’s right,’ Amy agreed, wondering what was coming next.
‘Hmm…’ Sofia murmured, picking up a silver Cartier pen and tapping it impatiently on her Roman marble desk-top. ‘He is quite the catch, no?’
Amy wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, so she mumbled a quick ‘Thank you.’
‘Is good,’ Sofia said, nodding to herself.
‘Uh…yes.’
‘Maybe I come to the wedding,’ Sofia added casually, as if it had only just occurred to her.
Oh, crap, they hadn’t sent her an invitation, even though Nancy had wanted to. Amy had thought having her boss there would be too nerve-racking. Now she had no choice. ‘Uh…we’d love you to come,’ she lied, quick as a flash.
‘ Bene ,’ Sofia said, twirling a trio of thin diamond bracelets on her tanned and slightly scrawny wrist. ‘I bring Carlo.’
Everyone knew about Sofia’s toy-boys. She had a line-up she paraded to various events, and Carlo was currently her number-one pick. Lean and lizard-like, twenty-two-year-old Carlo was a raging bisexual. Apparently this didn’t bother Sofia, as it was rumoured she was into girls as well as toy-boys, so why would it matter?
‘That’s great,’ Amy said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
Oh, God, her mother was going to kill her: this would definitely screw up Nancy’s
‘We’ll catch up tomorrow,’ Chris said, not wishing to get into a discussion about how hot Rocky was.
‘Promise?’ she said, fidgeting like an anxious little kid.
‘Absolutely.’
He already had his day planned. The meeting with Red in the morning. Lunch with a client. A couple more meetings. Dinner with another client. Then on Saturday morning he’d catch an early flight back to L.A. And on Sunday, Vegas.
It was all work. He could handle it.
Chapter Seven
W ith her wedding only a week away, Amy’s co-workers at Courtenelli had decided she needed one wild night out on the town. She’d tried to put them off, but they were having none of it. ‘You’re getting married ,’ Yolanda, a big-bosomed Latina brunette, informed her. ‘We have to celebrate .’
‘Yes,’ agreed Dana, a curvaceous redhead with a sexy overbite. ‘You can’t get hitched without a bachelorette night. It’s tradition.’
‘And don’t think,’ Yolanda interrupted, ‘that your intended is not going to have himself a bachelor night. An’ those things get wild . Strippers, hookers, all kinda slutlings.’
‘Slutlings?’ Amy said, frowning. ‘What are they ?’
‘Girls from hell!’ Dana joked. ‘An engaged woman’s worst nightmare!’
‘You guys are so cynical,’ Amy said, shaking her head. ‘Believe me, Max is not like that.’
‘Oh, sure ,’ Yolanda and Dana chorused together, both rolling their eyes. ‘He’s a man , isn’t he? He’s got a dick , hasn’t he?’
At that moment Sofia Courtenelli appeared. In the overcrowded field of fashion, Sofia Courtenelli was a star. Chic and no-nonsense, she was in her early fifties, well preserved, with pale copper hair worn in a severe bob, skilfully applied dramatic eye make-up and a permanent St. Tropez tan. Although Sofia was a hard worker, she still managed to spend most weekends either in the South of France or the Hamptons, depending on the season. Sofia was a party animal.
‘Amy!’ she said imperiously, snapping her fingers, showing off silver nail polish and an assortment of diamond rings. ‘Follow me.’
‘Yes, Miz Courtenelli,’ Amy said, trailing her boss into Sofia’s luxuriously appointed office.
‘Sit down,’ Sofia commanded, waving her towards an over-stuffed gold-lacquered chair with leopard-print upholstery and ornate carved legs.
Amy sat, wondering what was on the agenda. She didn’t usually get a one-on-one with her glamorous and somewhat intimidating boss.
‘Is true you getting married?’ Sofia said, in her low-down, slightly accented voice. Amy nodded. ‘To Max Diamond?’
‘That’s right,’ Amy agreed, wondering what was coming next.
‘Hmm…’ Sofia murmured, picking up a silver Cartier pen and tapping it impatiently on her Roman marble desk-top. ‘He is quite the catch, no?’
Amy wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, so she mumbled a quick ‘Thank you.’
‘Is good,’ Sofia said, nodding to herself.
‘Uh…yes.’
‘Maybe I come to the wedding,’ Sofia added casually, as if it had only just occurred to her.
Oh, crap, they hadn’t sent her an invitation, even though Nancy had wanted to. Amy had thought having her boss there would be too nerve-racking. Now she had no choice. ‘Uh…we’d love you to come,’ she lied, quick as a flash.
‘ Bene ,’ Sofia said, twirling a trio of thin diamond bracelets on her tanned and slightly scrawny wrist. ‘I bring Carlo.’
Everyone knew about Sofia’s toy-boys. She had a line-up she paraded to various events, and Carlo was currently her number-one pick. Lean and lizard-like, twenty-two-year-old Carlo was a raging bisexual. Apparently this didn’t bother Sofia, as it was rumoured she was into girls as well as toy-boys, so why would it matter?
‘That’s great,’ Amy said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
Oh, God, her mother was going to kill her: this would definitely screw up Nancy’s
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