Chapter 12
Giovanni
“Idon’t believe Tessa was done speaking.”
I face her, and frown when I see her downturned lips. “Were you done speaking?”
“It’s all good,” she says. But she doesn’t sound all good to me.
I raise an eyebrow in question. “Tessa?”
She nods. “You should cover the embroidery, anyway.”
I wasn’t planning on it. Tessa’s a skilled presenter and could recite the beading details in her sleep by now. But I don’t want to extend the awkward moment any longer, so I pick up where she left off.
“The opal Miyukis will catch the light as the gown walks. The model should hit a longer beat to show off the appliqué at the top of the runway.” I pause for a beat. “When she turns around, it’ll be magic,” I add, using Tessa’s word.
When I wink at her, a bit of color flushes back into her cheeks. At the sight of her smile that follows, the tension in my shoulders eases. The feeling of accomplishment, knowing I had a hand in bringing the light back into her eyes, does something to my chest I can’t explain.
Lamont drums his fingers on the table. “Make sure to connect with the model to emphasize the side profile as well, so the full shape is highlighted. Solid choice, Giovanni. The top of the arc softens the back.”
A grin finds its way to my face as I remember the passionate back and forth with Tessa to land on the fan shape. I nod toward the brilliant woman beside me. “I agree. But the fan shape was Tessa’s suggestion.”
Her smile deepens, and she straightens in her seat. Her lips part, then—
“Gracious of you, but it has your stamp all over it,” Lamont casually replies.
Every muscle in Tessa’s face seems to sag at the same time. Her body slumps along with her expression, drooping down into the chair. As if the devastation painted across her face wasn’t painful enough, she smiles. A fake, practiced, polite smile that immediately enrages me.
Heat rises in my chest at my indignation on her behalf. “It was Tessa’s—”
I’m cut off by a hand—her hand—on my knee under the table. She gives a small, dejected shake of her head.
Lamont tilts his chin toward Tessa. “Did you have anything to add to Giovanni’s final commentary?”
Tessa replies with only a muted, monotone “no.”
Frowning in feigned concern, Lamont exhales in Tessa’s direction. “You look unwell. We can’t afford any other sicknesses. Why don’t you get some rest?”
The sound of the wooden chair sliding against the floor has me turning toward Tessa as she gingerly stands up. She can’t ride the elevator alone, can she?
I scoot my chair back and stand to follow her.
“We need you here, Giovanni,” Lamont commands.
“We’ve already provided the information on the look.”
He takes a slow sip of water. “Post-show strategy.”
I meet Tessa’s gaze as she mutters, “Don’t follow me.” She walks straight for the elevator and presses the button to go down.
It’s impossible for me to look anywhere else other than her, always her. I track the way her hand tremors. And just as the doors shut, my heart clenches as I watch a rogue tear escape her eye.
Lamont’s voice pulls me from my Tessa haze. “Giovanni.”
Frustration prickles under the surface of my skin as I slowly sit down. My jaw tightens, and I grind my teeth to prevent myself from saying something reckless.
Lamont resumes the meeting, veering away from the designs themselves to public relations efforts, but it’s impossible for me to focus. I’m worried about Tessa and wondering if she made it down safely. My fingers drum on the table restlessly.
“We need to align on the key descriptors we’ll use for the finale look. Giovanni, how would you describe your appliqué to the press?”
Annoyance flares in my chest, flaming the anger that’s been building from the moment Lamont belittled Tessa. I know she’d want me to leave it alone, but the outrage curling inside me itches to get out.
“Giovanni? Are you with us?”
“Ethereal. Timeless. Refreshing. Those are the words I’d use to describe Tessa’s design.”
The only hint of surprise Lamont shows is an arched brow above his emerald glasses.
“And I just want to reiterate that I was merely executing her strong vision with the appliqué.” I stare at Lamont, daring him to disagree.
Silence stretches across the suite. After a moment, Lamont releases a bored sigh. “I’ll make sure to thank her first thing tomorrow, then.”
I nod. The stresses of fashion week are getting to everyone. At least Tessa will receive some credit for her hard work tomorrow.