It would be the end of her this time.
She turned back to him, her features schooled into an expressionless mask. “I’m sorry. It’s just not possible.”
The incredulity on his face deepened. “I would wipe out the three-million-dollar debt you owe Le Ciel for the contract you broke.”
She pulled in a deep breath. Lord, he was hitting all her weak spots. She would love to erase that blight on her track record. It would put her at peace with the world. But she couldn’t do it. “No.”
He lifted his shoulders, his gaze cool and calculating. “Then you’d better keep packing.”
Desperation surged through her. “You saw the designs. They’re amazing. Let me show them to you properly and you’ll see how perfect they are for Mondelli’s fall line. Let me bring them to market with you as Giovanni intended. The cachet of having my name attached to them, Giovanni’s name, will give you that buzz you are looking for. It doesn’t have to be me modeling.”
He shook his head. “You have no cachet as a designer. I want you as the face of Mondelli. That is the only deal on the table.”
“Then, no.” She would rather beg on the street than go back to modeling.
“I would take some time to think about it,” he advised, pushing away from the counter. “I won’t ask again. And while you’re at it, you might want to consider the other half of my offer.”
She was almost afraid to ask what it was.
“I want to create huge buzz around our partnership. Therefore, if you accept my offer to be the face of Mondelli, we would also announce our engagement to the world at the same time. The marriage of two great brands.”
Her mouth fell open, a dizzy feeling sweeping through her. He was joking. He had to be joking, except there wasn’t one bit of humor on his beautiful face.
“That idea is preposterous.”
“It’s genius. A master publicity stunt.”
She shook her head. “We hate each other. How would we possibly convince the world we are in love?”
A cynical smile twisted his lips. “Chemistry, Liv. We may hate each other, but neither of us would be being honest if we didn’t admit that was one hell of a kiss against that door, bella.”
“And this engagement...” she ventured weakly. “Would it be real or pretend?”
“Real?” His gaze moved scathingly over her. “You think I would take the gold digger who used my grandfather for his money as a fiancée in the true sense of the word?”
Fury singed her veins, fisting her hands at her sides. “For the last time, I didn’t use him.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He waved a hand at her. “All of that is inconsequential now. I’m offering you a way out of your situation. Our engagement would cover the period of your contract with Mondelli. Once you’ve fulfilled it, we go our separate ways—uncouple, as it’s fashionably put these days. You will have your line with Mondelli and my promise to support you every step of the way.”
This time she was speechless. He wanted her to act as his fiancée? She’d had to acquire the skills of an actress to model, but this was way, way beyond her skill set.
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “I will never return to modeling. If that’s the only form your proposal will take, I’ll have to decline.”
He shrugged. “It’s your decision. You have a week to come to me. After that the offer is off the table, this apartment is no longer yours and you, Olivia, better have a backup plan.”
She watched as he turned on his heel and left, apparently not that interested in the espresso this time around, either. The sound of the door thudding shut made her wince. She had no backup plan. She had no plan at all. All she had was a beautiful apartment she desperately didn’t want to leave, a life she’d built here she loved and an almost complete fall line that would make all her dreams come true if the House of Mondelli put its name behind it.
Everywhere she looked, she was out of options. Out of time. And that bastard knew it. He damn well knew it.
CHAPTER FOUR
OLIVIA SPENT THE REST of the week scouring Milan for apartments that would accommodate her work. She grew more dismayed with each visit. None of them were big enough, even if she did take on a roommate to afford one. The luxury apartment Giovanni had given her use of was palatial in comparison.
The end of her shift at the café at hand, she pulled her apron over her head, drew herself an espresso from the machine and sat down at one of the tables outside. She had to be out of the apartment tomorrow. The only thing she could do was pack up her designs, move into Violetta’s already overcrowded house and pound doors to see if a local designer would take her on—which was unlikely, given how ultracompetitive the marketplace was.