“Your Highness,” she greeted.
“Continue,” he said, waving everyone to stay seated while he remained on his feet at the back of the room. “I want to hear your pitch on the pajamas.”
“I’m almost there.” She glanced at her slide presentation and finished talking about the recruitment of influencers. She switched to photographs of elegant satin pajamas.
“Sometimes we want to call in sick to life.” Her apprehensive gaze flicked to him and her laser pointer wasn’t quite steady as she circled the pajama shirt. “Sometimes we need to feel safe and cozy as we navigate personal challenges. Asking celebrities to model the foundation’s merchandise isn’t about making mental health struggles seem glamorous. Yes, it’s a fundraiser and some people will be motivated to buy the pajamas because of who wore it best, but we’re also promoting self-care. We’re saying it’s okay to have a pajama day.”
Amy paused for reaction, seeming to hold her breath.
Heads turned to gauge his reaction. One voice said pithily, “There’s no way to have them printed before the gala.”
“No,” Amy agreed. “The campaign would be announced at the gala with an opportunity for those attending to place preorders. People love to be on the ground floor of something new. When they received their pajamas, it would bring the foundation back to their minds. In a few months, you could offer a new color and send out reorder forms. Later in the year, you could host a low-key pajama party.”
“That doesn’t sound very dignified,” someone murmured.
“I like the central message,” Luca stated firmly. “And it offers flexibility moving forward. My vote is to go ahead. Amy, I’d like to meet with you on another matter when you’ve finished here.”
The attitude in the room changed as Luca left. A few old guard on the council were sitting as though perched on a pin, but they were the type who didn’t like change. The rest had been hiding their interest for fear of offending them. Now that Luca had granted royal assent, several people had excited questions and seemed eager to carry the campaign forward.
Amy contributed as best she could, but she was having trouble concentrating. She’d nearly fainted when Luca walked in. She had half expected him to announce she was off the case and should catch the first flight back to London. Last night had been a rough one full of self-recriminations—and not just because their kiss had been so improper.
Was it, though?
Or was she searching for a way to rationalize her own poor judgment?
She wasn’t an impressionable student any longer. She was an adult and their kiss had been completely consensual, but Luca did have power over her, most of it financial. He also had enough influence politically and socially to destroy London Connection if he wanted to call her out as offering sex to entice his business or some other twist of the truth.
Was it naive of her to believe he would never do such a thing? She barely knew him, but she didn’t believe that he had it in him to act so dishonorably.
No, the real power Luca wielded was his ability to make her cast aside common sense.
As she’d ruminated alone last night, over a meal she’d barely touched, part of her had been tempted to tear up their contract, pack up and disappear in the dead of night.
It would cost her a nonperformance fee and impact her own reputation as dedicated and reliable, but Amy had suffered through hard times before. She wasn’t as vulnerable and cushioned from reality as she’d been when she’d first been expelled, either. She didn’t want to start over, but she knew how to do it. And she had modest savings set aside for exactly the sort of emergency that would arise if she turned her back on Luca as a client.
Amy wasn’t a quitter, though. And she didn’t want to believe she was so weak she could fall under a man’s spell and ruin her own life in the process. Not again.
Eventually, to quiet her mind, she had gone back to working on the gala presentation and the other, private assignment. If Luca decided to fire her for lacking professionalism, so be it. She, at least, would carry on as if she still had the job.
Which, it turned out, wasn’t any easier than being fired. It meant facing him again. In front of a crowd. She had tried to sound knowledgeable and unaffected by the memory of their kiss while her ideas were picked apart and his laser-like gaze watched her every move.
Now the meeting had broken up and a footman was leading her back to the private wing of the palace. He showed her into a different room from last night, this one a parlor in colors of olive and straw and pale, earthy reds.
“The king will be with you shortly,” he said before he evaporated.
Amy took a cleansing breath and allowed the open doors to draw her out to a small, shaded courtyard. It was full of blooming roses exuding fragrances of lemon and raspberry, green tea, honey and cloves. She felt like a bee, incapable of deciding which to sniff first.
A small round table was set with snow-white linens and a splendiferous table setting fit for—well. Duh.
She studied the gold pattern on the china plates and the scrolls of what had to be real gold applied to the glasses. A yellow orchid blossom sat on the gold napkin ring. The flatware was gold, too. Intricately patterned and heavy and engraved with the Italian word for—
“Caught you,” Luca said, startling her into clattering the gold knife back into its spot.
She sent him an admonishing look while his mouth curled into an amused smirk.
He was so effortlessly perfect. Lean and athletic, confident
