“Okay then. I have to go. Apparently, I’ve got a plane to catch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ndrew Morgan,” he answered his desk phone the following day hoping it would be Gwen.
“A“C an you speak for a few minutes, Andrew?” Enrico’s voice killed that wish.
Andrew glanced at his clock. It’d been excruciating waiting for Gwen to arrive. Her plane landed two hours ago. Every call he made to her cell went straight to voicemail. Even the driver who’d gone to pick her up wasn’t responding. Andrew had this overblown visualization she’d been kidnapped. Or some Gucci agent had spotted her and lured Gwen away.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I have been doing some thinking,” Enrico said.
Uh-oh. Enrico’s ‘thinking’ had landed him in Milan in the first place, training Marcello. “What about?”
“I haven’t said anything to Gwendolyn. She is doing a great job here, but I need you in New York, Andrew.”
“I need to be there, too. Being here for these extended periods of time...” He didn’t want to sound petulant.
“Lo so, lo so.”
“I know you know, Enrico. What’s your idea?”
“What do you think of Gwendolyn replacing Marcello if he does not work out?”
Andrew thought about that for a moment. “I think she can do the job. But having Marcello report to us was already a gift from Stefania. Now you want to move that position to New York all together?”
“No, no. You misunderstand. We will transfer Gwendolyn there.”
Andrew froze. Fuck! The words Gwen, you may have to move here to Italy would have a hard time coming out of Andrew’s mouth, fearing she may run him over to get a work visa.
No, that wasn’t an option. At all. If Gwen were here in Milan and he was in New York...
That would be a disaster.
“Andrew?” Enrico prodded him for a response.
“Yeah. I don’t think putting a New York person in that position will go over so well. I can’t see the creative director agreeing to that.”
“You let me worry about Stefania.”
Andrew held his head.
“Why so glum?” a soft voice echoed from the doorway.
His head shot up and his throat suddenly went tight. “Gwen!”
“Ah, she is there,” Enrico said into the phone. “I will leave you to it then. Caio. In bocca al lupo.”
“I’m gonna need it,” Andrew said under his breath as he hung up.
It took him another moment to look back at Gwen. Before he said anything, she swayed into the room. A short wool coat hung on her shoulders. Underneath, she wore the winter-white sleeveless dress he’d seen on her desk last month. The wool frock sat on her body as nicely as he thought it would.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
It is now. “Yeah, that was our boss.”
“Oh.” She pulled off brown leather gloves. “Did you need to finish speaking to him?”
“No, he said enough.”
“Ha! I bet you don’t miss him,” Gwen said, smirking.
“No, I miss you.”
Her body froze. “Andrew, I...” She slowly lifted her eyes to his.
“I mean, I miss working with you.” The way she looked at him made him wonder if he’d have to start back at square one with her.
Her shoulders softened. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, it’s not the same without you in the office.”
“Enjoying all the space?”
“That, and now I can work without faces pressed against the glass gawking at you.”
“Stop it. That didn’t happen.” He turned and looked out his open door to the rest of the department. A woman stared at Gwen with a frown. “Anyway...let me show you around.” He stood to slide his suit jacket over his shoulders. “I dress more formally here in Milan. You know, Miuccia’s here.”
Gwen smiled and moved further into the office with her luggage. When she glanced down to situate it, their bodies collided. “Oops, sorry.”
I’m not. “It’s okay,” he said, instead.
“Your, um, tie is crooked.” Her scent surrounded him like a warm hug.
Her fingers tugged on the knot and the memory of how she’d slid it off in L.A. flashed by, sending a firestorm to his groin. He could lift her up right now, lay her on the desk, and penetrate her easily.
The way she held the tie felt like she didn’t want to let go. “There,” she said and looked up at him.
In her eyes, were the answers he wanted. The longing and the need he’d once seen had returned.
He hadn’t expected to be this close to her so soon into the visit. If he only knew how she felt. Ask her, you dummy. A little voice that sounded oddly like his mother’s rang in his ear.
“Gwen?”
“Yes?” Her body inched closer.
He loved her height compared to his. It brought out the protective side to him. Before he could consider whether her replacing Marcello was something he should keep to himself, his mouth opened, and the words tumbled out.
“One of the reasons you’re here is because Enrico may want you to take over for Marcello if we have to fire him.” He snuck a look through his lashes. “And Gwen, I’m sorry, but that’s looking like a real possibility.”
Gwen’s chest heaved taking in the news. “That means you’re back in New York.” When he nodded, she quickly gave voice to his worst fear. “But I’ll be here.”
“Those would be the logistics.”
She turned away. “Either way we’ll be...in two different offices,” came out in a delicate whisper laced with sadness.
He released a sharp breath and spun her back around, his fingers gripping her shoulders. “I want...”
Her body softened against his. “You want what?”
They were in the land of amore, but still in the workplace. As much as he wanted to kiss her—and he suspected she wanted that too— he couldn’t. He stepped back.
It was too soon.
ONLY WHEN ANDREW’S hand found Gwen’s body had the knot from the last few weeks inside her stomach loosened. It stung when he let go, but they were in the office.
Andrew held his door open. “Let’s walk around for a bit. It’s almost the end of the day, but I think Marcello should still be here.”
“Should I leave my things in your office?”
“Sure. I’ll lock the door.” Andrew fiddled with the handle. “Of course, you could have just packed a toothbrush and hopped on the plane. If you think there are plenty of clothes lying around the office in New York, wait till you see the production floor here.”
“Show me.” She let her excitement shine through. “I can’t wait to see the world you’ve been a part of for so many months.”
“This isn’t my world. My world is home in New York.” Andrew bit his tongue as if he wanted to say more, but kept his lips firmly shut.
Strolling through the corridors of Prada’s Milan headquarters felt surreal. Italian purred all around her. This was where it all began. The new campus had been built in the Largo Isarco section south of the city and it was stunning. It looked more like a museum, but not in a stuffy, cold way.