Jennifer Hayward - Christmas At The Tycoon's Command

Chloe cradled her glass between her fingers. “It’s about an authentic beauty, as you know. About expressing your true colors. But we’re approaching it from a different point of view with each perfume. One, for example, is about moving past your physical limitations. Another about incorporating a difficult past as part of what makes you unique. Irreplaceable.”

“I love it,” said Mireille, looking intrigued. “It’s brilliant. Give me your list.”

Chloe took a deep breath. “Number one. Carrie Taylor.” The supermodel had made it big as a plus-size model and was gracing the cover of every magazine on the newsstands.

Mireille cocked a brow. “You aren’t reaching high, are you?”

“I told you I was. Second is Lashaunta.” A pop singer who had recently had a string of chart-topping records, she had forged a successful career despite a prominent scar on her face. Or perhaps because of it, as it gave her such a distinctive look.

“Next?”

“Desdemona Parker.” A world-class athlete, she’d made it to the top of her sport despite the inherited disease that had nearly ended her career. “And finally,” Chloe concluded, “Eddie Carello for our men’s fragrance.”

Mireille blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“He’s a survivor,” Chloe said quietly. “He grew up in the projects. He perfectly embodies the spirit of Soar.”

Mireille let out a husky laugh. “I can see why Nico cut you down to size. He’s not wrong about the brand taking a hit. It isn’t going to be an easy sell. Do you have backups?”

Chloe listed them. “But I need my A list. It’s Nico’s nonnegotiable.”

Her sister pursed her lips. “I can help with Lashaunta and Carrie. You’re out of luck with Desdemona and Eddie, however. Eddie is near untouchable, he’s too hot right now. Desdemona, I have no connections to, and neither does anyone in our PR department. We’re not big in sports.”

Chloe’s face fell.

“Lazzero, however,” her sister mused, “might be able to help. I read in the paper this morning Eddie is attending the launch party for Blaze, Lazzero’s new running shoe, at Di Fiore’s tomorrow night. Desdemona has an endorsement deal with Supersonic. She might be there, too.”

Chloe chewed on her lip. Her father had been godfather to all the Di Fiore brothers when his good friend Leone had died, including Nico’s middle brother, Lazzero, and youngest, Santo. But only Nico had ended up at Evolution after her father had taken him on as his protégé. Lazzero and Santo had put themselves through school on sports scholarships, going on to found one of the hottest sportswear companies on the planet in Supersonic, with an investment from Martino to help them along.

Chloe’s lashes lowered. “I wanted to do this by myself. To prove to Nico I can.”

“Lazzero is not cheating. Lazzero is being resourceful.”

Chloe tapped her fingernails on the table. “Do you think he’d let us attend the party?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Mireille picked up her phone and made the call.

“Lazzero, darling,” she purred. “I need you.”

Whatever was said on the other end of the phone made her laugh. “I do so call you just to chat. But right now, Chloe and I need a favor. We need an invite to your party tomorrow night to chat up Eddie Carello and Desdemona Parker for an influencer deal.”

Mireille frowned at Lazzero’s response. “Oh, she isn’t? That’s too bad. Eddie is, though, right?”

Chloe’s stomach dropped. No Desdemona.

Mireille nodded at whatever Lazzero said in response. “It won’t be me, I have plans. It will be Chloe. And I will pass the message on. You are, as usual, a doll.”

Chloe eyed her as she signed off. “What did he say?”

“Desdemona is out of town, but he’s emailing me and her agent and making the introduction. As for the party, it’s a yes. He’ll leave your name at the door.” A wicked smile curved her sister’s lips. “He said to wear a short dress. Eddie likes legs.”

* * *

And so that was how Chloe found herself the following night passing her credentials to the big lug in a dark suit at the door of Di Fiore’s, the upscale bar in midtown Manhattan Lazzero and Santo ran as part of their sports conglomerate.

Clad in the very short, rose-gold dress Mireille had lent her and surrounded by the trendy crowd, Chloe felt hopelessly out of place.

“You can come this way,” said the lug, plucking Chloe out of the lineup and ushering her through a side door and into the party that was already in full swing. There he handed her over to a hostess who led her through a crush of people to where Lazzero held court at the bar. He was supremely sophisticated all in black. Chloe had always found his hawk-like profile and dark eyes highly intimidating. Unlike Nico, who had intrigued her from the very beginning with his quiet, serious demeanor—as if the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders.

Lazzero, however, made an effort to put her at ease, handing her a glass of wine and chatting idly with her about what she and Mireille were up to. Having not had time to eat, Chloe felt the wine go straight to her head, making the crowd seem much less unapproachable.

After a few minutes, Lazzero nodded toward the end of the bar. “Eddie at three o’clock.”

Her pulse gave a flutter as she turned to find the famous bad-boy actor lounging his lean, rangy, jean-clad body against the bar while a group of rather exquisite women attempted to capture his attention. Her stomach fell. How was she supposed to compete with that?

She turned back to Lazzero. Ran a self-conscious hand over her hair. She wasn’t going to get another opportunity like this. She just had to do it. “Do I look okay?”

His dark eyes glittered with amusement. “Affirmative. Ten minutes, Chloe. That’s all you’ve got. I have a rule at my parties—no one hassles you. It makes them want to come back.”

She moistened her lips. “Got it.”

He eyed her. “Are you sure you want to do this? He’s a bit of a piece of work.”

“Yes.”

He pressed another glass of wine into her hand. “Go.”

Chloe took a sip of the wine, sucked in a deep breath and started walking, forcing herself to trace a straight line toward the actor before she chickened out. The girls around him looked down their noses at her as she approached. Used to this treatment when she was with Mireille, Chloe ignored them, walked right up to Eddie and stuck out her hand. “Eddie, I’m Chloe Russo. My family and I own Evolution. I’d like to talk to you about a fragrance I’ve developed with you in mind.”

The actor swept his gaze over her dismissively, before he got to her legs, where he lingered. “Who did you say you are?” he queried absentmindedly.

Chloe repeated her spiel, refusing to give in to the knots tying themselves in her stomach.

Eddie lifted his slumberous dark gaze to hers. Flicked the girl off the stool beside him. “Have a seat.”

* * *

Nico pointed his car home, a brutally hard day of meetings behind him. A beer and the hot tub at his penthouse beckoned, but so did a phone call with his brothers at the end of the day. Old habits died hard, and checking in with Lazzero and Santo to make sure their world was upright was one of them.

It had been that way ever since their father’s company had imploded when Nico was a teenager, his father and his marriage along with it, leaving Nico as the last line of defense between his family and the street when his mother had walked out. When life as you’d known it had dissolved once beneath your feet, you made sure it never happened again.

He punched Lazzero’s cell into his hands-free. It rang five times before his brother picked up, the sound of music pulsing in the background.