The Italian

“Please. I just have to show my face. We can have dinner, a few cocktails, and be home before ten.”

“Giorgio,” I sigh. “Really?”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night.”

I stay silent.

“Please?” he whines.

“Fine.”

“What’s wrong with you? You don’t sound your usual happy self.”

“I’m at the gym killing myself.”

“I should be doing the same. Thank you. See you then.” He hangs up before I can change my mind.

Jeez, this is the day that keeps on giving.

* * *

I smile to myself as I unzip the first suit bag. My breath catches as my eyes roam over the gorgeous red evening dress. It’s fitted with spaghetti straps and it is backless. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, let alone imagined I would have the chance to wear it. I unzip the second bag to see gold and sequins. The third bag holds black lace. It goes on and on.

Wowsers.

I have a dress you can wear, Giorgio said. That was the understatement of the year. Being friends with the boss of Valentino seems to have its perks. Perks that come in the form of gorgeous evening wear being delivered to your hotel room in your exact size.

My blonde hair has been styled in big, loose curls, and pinned back on one side. My makeup is smoky, and I even pulled out my sexy underwear for the occasion.

I look through the six dresses that have been sent over but my eyes keep going back to the red one. The fabric is embossed, the detail on the stitching, the way it falls at the back, the shade of red—it’s all so incredible. I hold it up in front of my body and stare at my reflection in the mirror. A big smile crosses my face.

Maybe this week isn’t a complete disaster after all. I’m going out in Valentino.

Who have I become?

* * *

I look around the big ballroom in wonder as Giorgio leads me by my arm. We weave through the beautiful people and make our way over to the seating arrangement chart. He studies it in great detail.

“Wow.” This place is ridiculous with over the top chandeliers hanging low and huge candelabras lining the walls.

“These things are always over the top,” Giorgio says as he looks around, distracted. “This is our table here.”

We make our way over and he pulls out my chair. We take a seat at the large, round table, set with ten places. It’s covered with white table linen and set with fancy silverware. There are dozens of fresh flowers, all in different shades of cream.

A waiter arrives. “Can I get you a drink, sir?”

Giorgio’s eyes flick to me. “Champagne to start?”

“Sounds great.” I smile.

“Two champagnes, please.”

I smile as I look around. I recognize some people from my design studies. Never in a million years did I think I would ever be the in the same room with them.

“I feel like a celebrity or some shit with all these famous people here,” I lean in and whisper.

He chuckles, clearly amused. “Well, those famous people were all staring at my gorgeous date. You’re the most breathtaking woman in the room.”