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line was launching this fall, and it was going to be just as fabulous as everything else I designed. More than a few folks called out and waved to me, and I answered them in kind. My workers earned top dollar and excellent benefits for their time, diligence, and quality craftsmanship. I could afford to be generous. Most of my creations retailed for at least five thousand dollars, and everything was back-ordered for six weeks. The only other designer who commanded similar prices was Bella Bulluci. Johnny Bulluci’s handsome face flashed through my mind. I’d have to ask around and get some more dirt on him. I remembered the suave way he’d kissed me at the wedding. A spark sizzled on the tip of my thumb. Oh, yes. I definitely wanted my rebound relationship to ramp up as soon as possible.

I put that thought away and stepped into Piper Perez’s office, which was next to mine. Piper typed away on a keyboard and murmured into a headset. She was an averagesized woman with black hair, tan skin, and warm brown eyes.

Piper also was my chief financial officer and anal to a fault. Everything on her desk was arranged from tallest (her computer monitor) to shortest (a pink sticky pad) and sorted by color, shape, and times used during the day. Piper was insanely proud of her straitlaced, obsessive tendencies. She should be. Her organizational and accounting skills earned her more than most CEOs.

“Morning, Piper.”

Piper said her goodbyes to her caller, punched a button on her headset, and ended the conversation. “Morning, Fiona.”

She stopped typing and handed me a stack of papers. “The front desk gave me your latest messages by mistake. I went ahead and placed the oldest ones on top so you can return 54

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those calls first. I also put the cost-comparison reports about the fabric and gemstone suppliers on your desk. And Joanne James called me personally, demanding to know when you would be available. Her highness wants to come in for a fitting.”

I groaned, tempted to burn the message and drop the charred remains in Piper’s spotless steel trashcan. Then, I thought about that flashing rock on Joanne’s finger. I really could use a couple of new Fiera suits, and the flame-proof fabric I had to make them out of wasn’t cheap. I might be rich, but I wasn’t going to turn down a hefty payday, even if I had to deal with the black widow of Bigtime. “All right. Have somebody set it up. But be sure we have plenty of champagne on hand that day.”

“For Joanne?”

“No, for me. I’m going to need it.”

“If you think you’re going to need it then, just wait a minute,” Piper said.

“What? What did you say?”

“Oh nothing,” Piper chirped in a cheery voice that didn’t fool me for a minute.

My eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”