But she had nothing on Muse.
Androssi rose to his feet, a middle-aged man with weathered lines in his face from too much exposure to the sun. He wore a polite smile and shook my hand. “Mr. Barsetti, it’s a pleasure.”
“Call me Conway. My father is Mr. Barsetti.”
“Of course. You can call me Androssi.” He turned his gaze to Muse. “Sapphire, it’s a much bigger pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and leaned in.
I pressed my hand to his shoulder and steadied him. “A handshake will suffice, Androssi.” In my culture, it was common for a man to kiss a woman upon meeting her. But I didn’t want anyone else pressing a kiss to my woman’s cheek. They should be grateful I would even allow a handshake to happen.
“Of course.” He brushed off the threat and shook her hand. “Allow me to introduce Mercedes.” He pulled his woman to his side. She was at least twenty years younger than him. Dressed in black with expensive jewelry, she looked like his favorite mistress.
“Nice to meet you.” Muse shook her hand.
“You too,” Mercedes said with a thick Turkish accent.
We took a seat in the booth, and my hand immediately went to Muse’s thigh under the table. I felt her bare skin, and my fingertips came alive the second I felt her in my grasp.
Her arm hooked through mine, and she rested her hand on the crook of my elbow.
I kept my eyes on Androssi, finding his mistress plain.
“Business is good, I hear,” Androssi said. “After your last fashion show, your popularity has reached a whole new level. And if you can make even more money than you were before, why wouldn’t you?” He waved the waiter over, ordered a bottle of wine, and then dismissed him.
He picked a wine created by Barsetti Vineyards—because he did his homework.
Muse ran her finger across the edge of her mouth, her lipstick sticking to her skin.
I tried not to look—because it always made me think of other things. “How do you propose I make more money?”
“By cutting your costs,” he said. “I know you purchase nearly all your fabrics from Ulysses in Istanbul. I’m not going to lie to you, Conway. He provides excellent fabrics at a reasonable price. It’s no surprise you’ve been in business with him for ten years. You must have a sense of loyalty to him at this point. But when it comes to business, nothing is personal.”
“And you think you can save me twenty-five percent in costs?” I challenged. “That’s a lot, Androssi. I’m always interested in maximizing my margins, but not if it would dilute the quality of my products. The Duke of Cambridge commissioned me to create the wedding night lingerie for his bride. It took me a full week to create something that he’d want to rip off her. My clients aren’t regular people. They’re royalty, celebrities, and world leaders. I won’t tolerate anything less than the best.”
Muse moved her hand on top of mine as it rested on her thigh. Her fingers rubbed against me, and I could feel her tit against the back of my arm. She was cuddled close to my side, sticking to me like glue. Her resentment toward me had obviously disappeared.
“I respect that, Conway,” Androssi said. “The fabric is exactly the same. There’s no compromise on the quality.”
“Then how can you provide me with such a substantial deal?”
His hands came together on the table, his fingers interlocking as Mercedes enjoyed her wine in silence. She took a piece of bread and ate a few bites, not making conversation with Muse but sticking to her silence and letting her suitor do the talking. “There’s actually a condition to the price—and it depends on you.”
Of course, there was a catch. “How so?”
“Ever since you debuted Sapphire in your line, your creations have exploded in popularity. The people adore your main star. Women who don’t have anyone to wear lingerie for are buying it, just so they can be like her. She’s the greatest marketing strategy you could ever find. And I can only imagine the new heights you’ll reach with her modeling your line. Your sales will skyrocket, and as your units grow, I can cut you a better deal on the price. Ulysses can’t do that, but I have the equipment to make it happen.”
I stared at him coldly, annoyed that Muse had been brought into the conversation when she should have been excluded. I’d been in the lingerie business for ten years, and I’d earned a reputation based on my own merit. It wasn’t because of the models or the fabric—it was because of me. I had to admit that Muse gave me a significant boost. I’d be lying if I said that was untrue. But I was the one who propelled myself to greatness. “Muse is no longer modeling my lingerie. She’s retired.”