Page 1 of Valentino

CHAPTER ONE

Amanda

The flight attendant has already asked me twice to put my seat in the upright position. Now that we've leveled off above the clouds, I'm sliding it right back down again.

Business class to Milan, champagne in a glass. I take a sip and let the bubbles fizz on my tongue, sharp and a little sour.

This is actually happening.

Casa Aurelia. The campaign I've been chasing for two years.

I pull out my phone, hit the in-flight Wi-Fi, and call Vittoria before I can talk myself out of it.

Her face fills the screen, hair shoved back off her forehead the way it gets when she's been staring at code for hours, the blue glow of a monitor lighting one side of her cheek.

"Babe," I say, grinning so wide it almost hurts. "Guess where I am right now."

"You're on the plane." She squints. "Are you on the plane?"

"I am on the plane. I am drinking champagne, and I'm heading to Milan."

A smile cracks across her face, the kind she doesn't give to many people. "You got it? The Casa Aurelia thing?"

"I actually got it." I lift the glass toward the camera like she can clink it. "Two years, Vee. Two years of pitching and emailing and pretending I wasn't dying inside every time they didn’t respond."

"You didn't do it enough. I knew you were dying inside. I heard about it constantly." But she's laughing, soft and warm, and something in my chest loosens at the sound. "I'm proud of you. You know that, right?"

I look down at the champagne so I don't have to look at her saying it. "Stop."

"I'm serious. This is huge."

"I know." I twist a strand of hair around my finger. "It's so huge that I keep waiting for someone to call and tell me there's been a mistake."

"There's no mistake." Her voice goes firmer, the way it does when she's drawing a line. "You earned this. Don't you dare let anyone make you feel like you didn't."

The cabin hums around me, steady and low, and outside my little oval window the white, endless clouds stretch out. For a second neither of us says anything, and it's fine. It's the kind of quiet only Vittoria gives me, the kind that doesn't ask me to fill it.

"Did you tell your parents?" she asks.

My chest squeezes, but I keep my face easy and light. My best practiced version of unbothered.

"Two days ago," I say. "Texted my mom."

"And?"

I let out a small laugh. "She sent a thumbs-up."

Vittoria goes still. I've watched her do this for years, that sudden quiet, the way her whole body settles when something matters. "A thumbs-up."

"A thumbs-up emoji." I wave my free hand like I'm brushing a crumb off the table. "Which is honestly more than I expected. Dad didn't even open it."

"Amanda."

"It's fine." The words come out smooth and bright, and I almost believe them. "Really. They're somewhere with bad signal, probably. Switzerland, last I knew. You can't expect a parade for every little thing."

"This isn't a little thing."

"It's a thumbs-up. It's not a big deal." I take another sip of champagne, but it's flat and warm on my tongue now, tasting more like medicine than celebration. "Hey, the attendant's coming. I should let you go."