Stefano watched Tess affectionately as she spoke earnestly to a famous South African designer. She wasn’t intimidated by anyone. She treated everyone the same, from billionaires to waitstaff. Stefano liked that about her. Her honesty, her kindness. Even at a party filled with some of the most gorgeous, glamorous people in the world, he thought, no one could hold a candle to his wife.
But where was their hostess? He scoured the crowd for Fenella Montfort’s tall, spare frame. He finally saw the woman talking to a prime minister and Rodrigo Cabrera, the Spanish media mogul.
Setting his jaw, Stefano went to join them.
“Good evening.” He nodded at each. “Your Excellency... Cabrera.” His eyes focused on his quarry. “Ms. Montfort.”
“I hear you’re married, Prince Stefano,” Rodrigo Cabrera said, his eyes glinting. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Actually, you should doubly be thanked, Cabrera, since I met my wife at your party.”
The Spaniard looked intrigued. “My party?”
“Last summer, in New York. You were celebrating some movie of yours that had just reached a billion dollars box office worldwide. Tess was a waitress there.”
“How extraordinary.”
“Yes.” But as Stefano spoke, he was wondering how he could speak with Fenella Montfort alone, though Zacco’s London Fashion Week party did seem an inappropriate venue to convince her to sell her shares.
She gave him a cold smile, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Excuse us,” she said abruptly to the other two men. “Prince Stefano and I have something important to discuss.”
“Of course,” said the prime minister with a bow.
“Congratulations again,” Rodrigo Cabrera said coolly. “Actually making it to the altar is quite an accomplishment.”
It seemed a strange comment, but Stefano forgot about it as he faced the woman who owned his family’s company.
“Prince Stefano,” she said coolly. “I’m so glad you brought your new wife. Such a fascinating creature.” She glanced toward Tess. “A true original.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” She jutted her sharp chin toward a young, dark-haired man flirting with models by the marble fireplace. “That’s my date. Bruno.”
“Ah,” he replied, unsure of her point. Why would he care about her date?
Fenella gave a laugh. “He’s a musician. But a good lover.” She paused. “I can’t imagine being stupid enough to marry him.”
Stefano’s shoulders tightened as he understood. She was insulting not just Tess, but also him, for marrying her.
What he didn’t understand was why. He barely knew Fenella Montfort. They were business acquaintances only. What could be the point of an attack that was so personal and so pointless?
He tried to keep his voice conciliatory. “As fascinating as it is to discuss our love lives, we need to talk about your shares.”
“Yes, we do.” She tilted her head. “Please tell your lawyers to stop bothering us. It’s tiresome.”
“We can raise the offer.”
“I don’t intend to sell. At any price.”
“You haven’t heard the new offer,” he said.
She shrugged. “I don’t need to.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you invite me tonight?”
“I wanted to tell you in person.”