Chapter 41

By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, Pilar was having a hard time staying awake. She’d arrived in the central courtyard of the Palazzo dei Sette Sogni for the ten AM call Jazz had given all the lingerie models and had hair and makeup nearly entirely to herself. Most of the models straggled in closer to eleven looking like they’d stayed at last night’s party well past the midnight minimum specified in their contracts.

With hair and makeup done, Pilar didn’t have much to do. She sat in one of the big loungers shaded by an overhead umbrella sipping bottled water carefully through a straw so as not to mess up her lipstick. Even so, the heat of the day was drowsy-making. She wasn’t sure how far behind she was on her sleep, but she suspected it was quite a bit. After she’d arrived in Milan with Jazz, there had been so much to do and so few hours to do it.

On top of that, she’d gotten to Lev’s room around two and had no idea when she’d actually fallen asleep. After a magnificent bit of fucking, Lev had wanted to talk. Pilar generally thought of Lev as the strong silent type, but intimacy had brought out a different side of him. He was warm and sweet and had a wicked sense of humor that wasn’t as flashy as Nick’s or Max’s, but revealed a deeply considered perspective that took nothing for granted. Even knowing she had to be up and at work in a few hours, Pilar had been enthralled and found herself powerless to try to stop the conversation. If things hadn’t eventually gotten hot and heavy again, they might not have slept at all.

When Pilar ended her relationship with Geoff and decided to enjoy some of her wild-child birthright, she’d done so with the assumption that she would be trading the warm intimacy she’d enjoyed with her one-time intended in favor of hot, but relatively unemotional sex. She’d known there was a danger she might eventually fall for Nick, but that hadn’t been the problem at all.

Instead of giving up intimacy, she was finding it everywhere. Not only had she started falling for Nick almost immediately as Kiki had pointed out, she’d also fallen for Kiki. After one night, she was falling for Lev. And she suspected they were all falling for her. She and Geoff had certainly been in love at some point, but she’d never felt as loved as she did now.

She also couldn’t remember the last time she’d been quite so sleepy, but not allowed to fall asleep. So many of her muscles were pleasantly sore and wanted time to recover that they combined with the heat of the afternoon and the boredom to set her to dozing. She’d brought an iPad to try to read, but her eyes kept blurring.

On top of everything else, Jazz had managed to book three photo crews, but only two photographers. The whole day’s shooting schedule had been thrown into disarray. Pilar’s noon shoot might not happen until three and it might not happen at all.

After the third time she caught herself dozing off, she did the only thing she knew would keep her awake. She got out of her lounger and started stretching. The stage and runway from the night before were still set up as were the two dance floors and the sound system. Once she’d worked out the most obvious kinks, Pilar climbed up onto the stage and started doing some basic dance steps, keeping time in her head. It felt good in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. There was an extra pleasure in dancing after she’d pushed her body’s limits that she’d largely forgotten.

She moved on to trying to recreate the dance she’d done last night. The first few tarantella steps were easy to remember, but she’d whirled into a set of modern steps and couldn’t now remember what they’d been. As she was trying to puzzle it out, Casey strode up to the stage, smirking. “So, are you going to show us those fierce moves you threw together last night? Don’t think we didn’t notice you saved all the best choreography for yourself.”

Pilar knew Casey was teasing, but she could see that a few of the models seemed to think there were a few models who wanted to believe there were grounds for such a complaint. “I was just trying to remember them. Do you think anybody posted the show online?”

There was a general round of laughter at that which Pilar didn’t really understand. Casey retrieved her phone. “You could say that.” She showed Pilar a YouTube video starting with a still of herself standing on the runway looking rather arch.

“Oh, yeah.” Pilar started the video and watched it. “This is a lot more straightforward than it probably looked. Most of you probably have the movement vocabulary already. You just need the order.”

She showed the moves, explaining as she went. On the first run-through, Casey and Kiki followed. By the second, about half the models had gotten to their feet and were mirroring her. To anyone who just happened to walk up to the stage right now, it would look like one of those oddly spontaneous dance numbers so prominent in musicals.

Pilar stepped aside when someone asked Kiki to show her dance as well. As she stood and watched Kiki’s walk-through, Ceilidh came up behind her and asked quietly. “Do you think I’m just hopeless as a dancer?”

Pilar turned and looked at her, realizing she had used exactly that word in the heat of the moment last night. “Not at all. I only meant that there was no way you were going to learn it all in the time we had left before the show. I’m sure you could do this.”

Ceilidh nodded and watched Kiki move. “Could you walk me through what you just did again once she’s done?”

“Sure.” Pilar said, then froze for a moment. While she’d been talking to Ceilidh, Arwen had emerged and was sitting by the stage watching Kiki dance. She walked over and said quietly. “Hey.”

Arwen looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, hey. That was your dance from last night you were showing. Wasn’t it? It was really sexy.”

“Thanks.” Pilar pushed her hair back out of her face. To look at Arwen, it would seem like she had nothing on her mind more significant than a few dance moves. Pilar was happy to follow her lead. “I was just walking some of models through the steps.”

“It’s not like anything you taught us in New York.” Arwen pointed out.

“Oh. It’s not ballroom. It’s more of a show dance.” Pilar said.

“Could you teach me how to dance like that?” Arwen asked.

“Sure. I was just about to show Ceilidh. Join us?” Pilar offered.

Arwen gave her a wry smile as if to acknowledge how well they were doing not talking about the thing they were probably going to have to talk about. “Sure.”

“Are you a model?” Ceilidh asked, joining them.

“No. I work for Nick’s charity actually.” said Arwen.

“She’s also one of my dance students back in New York.” Pilar added.

“You teach a class in New York? What time? Where?” Ceilidh asked.

“Uh, privately right now at the Loft.” said Pilar. “But we’re having a studio built there while we’re here. I might be able to teach a class or two there if people were interested.”

“I’d totally go.” said Esta, followed by a chorus of agreement.

“I’d have to check with Nick, though. It’s his building.” Pilar hedged.

“What do you think the odds are that Nick’s going to decide to start withholding permission for things now?” Arwen asked quietly as she mounted the stage.

Pilar shot Arwen a glance, but the other woman just looked amused. “It’s still polite to ask first.”

And then they were dancing. As Pilar worked with Ceilidh, she realized something she should have noticed from having seen her walk the runway. She didn’t know how to move. She’d figured out just enough motion vocabulary to have one runway walk and didn’t vary it at all. It would have been easy to write her off as a hopeless dancer, but Pilar had a background in helping so-called hopeless dancers. Not all Stones were born graceful.

She went back to basics, showing Ceilidh some fundamental movement techniques and was surprised by how many of her fellow models didn’t know them. Even girls she’d seen dance on the runway the night before turned out not to have any background in dance. They’d learned the steps she taught them the way someone might learn the sounds of a sentence in a foreign language without understanding the language itself.

Kiki on the other hand turned out to be a hidden treasure. She knew ways to move that Pilar hadn’t learned. They handed off leading the slowly-growing group. Models who caught on faster or had a background showed moves to each other.

Then someone figured out how to turn on the sound system. The class broke up into girls dancing in little groups - a couple freeform, a couple with one dancer showing moves and the others following along. Halfway through “Uptown Funk,” Pilar noticed Jazz standing over by the DJ station watching them with arms crossed. She walked over to Jazz and realized only halfway there that Ceilidh, Arwen, and a model named Giselle followed her over in formation as if this were part of the dance. Pilar laughed at the spontaneity of it. “What’s up?”

Jazz frowned. “Do you think I could borrow Giselle and Amanda for a few hours? I kind of need them to do the catalog shoot that I’m renting out this castle for.”

Giselle ran out of step and ran to get Amanda. Jazz watched her go and sighed. “We’re going to have to start their hair and makeup from scratch and photo crew two is waiting for them.”

Pilar watched the two models. “Why weren’t they in makeup an hour ago? Everybody was just sitting around the pool.”

Jazz ran both hands over her hair. “They weren’t in makeup because I didn’t send them to makeup. I thought there was another hour before the crew finished with Emily and Randa. I didn’t know they were running fast because I was working with crew one.” She gave Pilar a worried look. “I’m screwing this up. Aren’t I?”

Pilar laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s the first day. There’s still time to catch up.”

“Tomorrow’s going to be worse.” Jazz said darkly. “I’ve got buyers coming in for lunch to talk supply chain governance and I still have to confirm with the replacement photographer. Plus, I have a giant pile of orders that came in last night and this morning that need to get into the fulfillment system. They’re coming in faster than I can enter them right now.”

Pilar had spent enough hours poring over work schedules, building plans, subcontractors, and the like to recognize that Jazz was approaching some real issues. Too much success without enough staff to handle it could kill a business as surely as not enough success. “You need an assistant.”

“I had Gwen, but she’s modeling.” Jazz said. “Then I had enough money to hire another one or do this show and I needed this show more than I needed a new assistant. Now...”

Pilar frowned thoughtfully and considered the possibilities. “This is Milan. You can probably get a temp who knows how to enter orders into the system and help with the photo crews. Where did you hire hair and makeup from?”

“I brought them from New York.” Jazz said. “I don’t know anyone in Milan.”

Pilar tried not to wince. She’d done enough construction jobs around the world to know the value of hiring local labor for more fungible roles. Flying entire teams overseas when you didn’t have to made no sense. “I’m sure Rosangela knows who to go to for temps here.”

Jazz nodded. “I’ve been trying really hard not to rely on SSCS while we’re here. Anything they do, Nick is paying for. And I can’t afford them on my own - even with the new business this show is pulling in.”

Pilar considered that. “Asking her to name a good temp agency shouldn’t add anything to Nick’s bill. You’ll still have to call them and make the arrangements yourself, though.”

Jazz nodded and gave Pilar a beseeching look. “Would you ... ever consider being my business partner?”

The question blindsided Pilar for a moment. She wanted to say yes. She and Jazz had been friends for years and a surprising number of the skills Pilar had learned in the construction trade would translate to fashion. But she really didn’t have time to run half of two businesses and model and keep up the dance lessons she’d been giving at the Loft. Beyond that, the last few days had reminded her how much Jazz’s management style could infuriate her. If she hadn’t been floating on a cloud of sexual well-being, she would probably be pretty annoyed by now.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to mention that last part. She shook her head. “I’m really overwhelmed already. This trip means that my father has a week to muck up every invoice, work order, call sheet, and subcontractor agreement we have out. It’ll probably take me three weeks to get things back to normal.”

Jazz managed to laugh a little. “It sounds like you need an assistant, too.”

Pilar started to say that she was the assistant, but then realized the absurdity of her own situation. Rodriguez Construction Services was much more successful than IBJ and she was still doing things they should have hired staff for years ago. “You know, I do actually.”

Jazz nodded. “Have you seen Rosangela recently? I should find her before I get back to the photographers.”

As much as Pilar didn’t want to set the precedent of helping Jazz with the business side of IBJ, she relented a little to get the pressure off of her old friend. “I’ll go find Rosangela and get that contact for you.”

Jazz gave her a quick hug. “You’re a life saver.”

When Pilar located Rosangela, she found out she wasn’t as much of a life saver as she’d thought. When she said Jazz needed a temp agency in Milan, Rosangela nodded, but said. “I’ll just need to clear this with Nick as soon as he comes out of his meeting.”

Pilar frowned. “Doesn’t this fall under the services Nick extended to me?”

“It does, but Nick hasn’t extended those same services to Jazz.” Rosangela explained apologetically. “He probably won’t mind. I just need to wait until I get approval.”

“Can you ask Tanvi?” Pilar asked.

“I could, but she’s sequestered with Nick.” Rosangela looked deeply apologetic. When Pilar didn’t say anything, the young Italian woman made a gesture of surrender with her hands. “I can’t access the service contact database without client approval, but I do remember that one of your models - Amedea - works through a fashion temp agency we’ve used sometimes. They’re probably still in good standing.”

“Amadea. Thanks.” Pilar nodded. “Could you let me know when Nick isn’t sequestered anymore or ask him to come find me when he’s available, please?”

“Of course.” Rosangela made a note on her tablet.

As Pilar went to find Amadea, she ordered her heart to stop pounding because it was being ridiculous. When Rosangela first refused to help her, for one terrible moment, she’d thought it was because Nick had taken her name off the list of people he wanted SSCS to help. And the only reason she could think of for him to do that was because she was now persona non grata. Maybe she’d misunderstood the situation last night entirely and he was angry she’d been with Lev. Maybe now that he had Arwen, he was cutting her out. None of that had happened of course, but the pang of fear still gripped her chest.

She’d tricked herself into thinking what they’d done last night had been easy. Things had gone so smoothly with Kiki joining her and Nick, Pilar had convinced herself that she was just doing what she’d been born to do. And maybe she was. But she couldn’t be perfectly confident all the time - not when there were so many emotions involved. She might be getting very attached to Nick, but their bond was nothing compared to the bond he had with his old friends, especially Arwen. She was floating on the surface of water she had no idea the depths of.

She knew she was probably being unnecessarily dramatic, but Pilar really desperately wanted Nick to hold her right now and say the magic words that promised their relationship was still strong. More than that, she wanted him to fuck her like he had yesterday. She’d never felt as sure of her place in a man’s affections as she did on the floor of that shadowy gallery.

Amadea naturally turned out to be in the middle of a photoshoot - the one Jazz was riding herd on. When Pilar found them, Jazz peeled off from the shoot. “Did you find an agency?”

“No.” Pilar shook her head. “Rosangela can’t access the SSCS database for you without Nick saying it’s okay and Nick’s sequestered. She did tell me that Amadea sometimes worked through an agency that they used though. I wanted to see if she had contact information.”

“That’s fine.” Jazz nodded. “I can’t call them until we’re done with this shoot anyway and I doubt Amadea has her phone with her. We can just wait until Nick approves it or, I don’t know, ask the hotel concierge. They do a lot of work with the fashion industry.”

Pilar took a deep breath. “All right. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

“Not a problem. Thanks for trying.” Jazz glanced back at the photo shoot, then looked at Pilar. “Are you okay? You look a little freaked out.”

“I’m...” Pilar started to say, then waved it away. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have time for my drama right now.”

Jazz looked torn, but finally lowered her head. “I really really don’t, but I desperately want to catch up. Can we make time for that?”

Pilar nodded. “I’d really like that.”

Eddie Coyle wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he stepped into the courtyard of the palazzo dei sette sogni, but he wasn’t terribly surprised to find a cadre of beautiful women writhing and grinding to Nelly’s “Hot in Here.” After three weeks of researching the Stone family in Europe and visiting several of their seats of power, he wasn’t surprised by much. Not only had he found a bewildering variety of sexual arrangements among his stepson’s European cousins, but a surprising openness and willingness to talk about whatever arrangements they’d found for themselves.

While most of America was still arguing over same-sex couples, the Stones of Europe had started to quietly form threesomes, foursomes, group families, consensual master-slave arrangements, harems, reverse harems, and plenty of relationships that the people involved in could only refer to with some variant of the words “our thing.”

Ed had started out planning to write a book about how the Stones were having their own sexual revolution and not inviting anybody else. Over the last few weeks, he’d started to realize that, even if it had started out that way, the current modus operandi was to invite a lot of like-minded people. So, he wasn’t entirely surprised to spot some of Nick’s friends among the dancers. Max, looking both lighter and more solid than Ed had last seen him, danced with a platinum blonde who Ed still couldn’t remember where he’d seen her before she appeared in Nick’s little video. Dennis danced with the Australian sex goddess and Nick’s girlfriend Yuriko. Lev was dancing with a hot, vibrant energetic redhead that Ed didn’t immediately recognize as his one-time next-door neighbor, Arwen. Ed knew her as troubled and frequently depressed and possibly just a little bit crazy, but today she looked like she was yet another lingerie model.

What he didn’t see was Nick. When he’d finished scanning for his son, he realized that a few of the dancers had noticed him standing there, staring - a middle-aged man they didn’t know who might have just wandered in off the street. Realizing just how creepy he must look, Ed resumed his walk towards the lobby, hoping to find someone who could point him towards Nick.

He’d only gotten about halfway across the courtyard when a very pretty blonde woman came running up to him, an iPad clutched in her arm. “Mr. Coyle.”

Eddie was glad she’d recognized him and wasn’t coming to chase him away to where all the other plain-looking people were skulking. “Yes?”

“Welcome to Milan. I’m Natasha.” She took a deep breath, having just done a hundred-foot sprint in high heels. “I’m one of Nick’s assistants.”

“Thank you, Natasha.” said Ed. “Is Nick around?”

“He is.” Natasha glanced at her pad. “But he’s just gone into a meeting and is sequestered except for class three emergencies or higher. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Uh...” Ed wasn’t sure what a class three emergency was, but apparently there were two whole classes of emergency less severe that Nick was ready to ignore right now. “I actually have an appointment to talk to Antonio Girardi-Ferrari-Stone later tonight and figured I’d come a little bit early to see Nick. I really should have called ahead, I guess.”

“I’ll put a message in his queue that you’re here so he sees it as soon as he gets out of his meeting. In the meantime, can I get you anything?” Natasha glanced at her pad again. “Oh. Would you like to check in?”

“Check in?” Ed asked.

“Yes. Nick has you listed as welcome to one of the empty rooms in his side of the palazzo.” Natasha said.

Ed hadn’t planned on staying the night. Still, if there was an empty room for him to work out of, he could stow some of his gear and maybe grab a shower. “All right. Let’s do that then.”

He started to head towards the lobby again, but Nick’s friends had spotted him and were heading over towards him, Lev leading the way, hand extended to shake. “Mr. Coyle.”

“Levi.” Eddie met the young man’s hand in a firm handshake. Every time he shook hands with Lev, he assumed a man that large would crush his hand, but Lev had always been unfailingly gentle. “Arwen, Max.”

“What are you doing here?” Max asked, sounding pleased to see him.

“I’ve been doing some research for a book. I thought I’d drop in on Nick while I was here.” Eddie said. “Apparently, I should have called ahead.”

“He’s having lunch with Threnody.” Arwen told him.

Eddie paused. “Threnody ... Ferrari-Stone?”

“Probably. I can’t imagine there are a lot of people named Threnody.” said Arwen. “I’ve been calling her Norma Jean de Medici.”

Ed had heard plenty of stories about Threnody. “Why are the sequestered together over lunch?”

Nick’s friends looked at each other, all a little baffled. Finally, Max said. “We don’t know yet. He’ll probably tell us when he gets out.”

Ed wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Nick having any dealings with Threnody Ferrari-Stone. Depending on who he’d he’d been talking to, he’d heard stories that brought to mind Lucrezia Borgia, Lizzie Borden, or Daddy Warbucks from Annie. Some people nearly venerated her, but many spoke her name in a hushed whisper and repeated dark rumors. One woman, young and modern and seemingly religiously unencumbered, had crossed herself and refused to say another word after her name came up. Eddie had to remind himself that he really didn’t have any control over who Nick associated with anymore.

“Craft services are still serving if you want to grab a bite to eat.” Lev offered. “We were just dancing.”

“So I saw.” Eddie looked over to where the models continued to writhe and grind and pop and perform a lot of other moves he didn’t know the name of.

“Pilar was showing us some choreography before mean Jazz came over and dragged her away.” Arwen offered.

“Pilar. That’s Pilar Rodriguez-Stone? The one he was in New York Magazine with? They called her his girlfriend.”

“She is.” said Arwen.

“I thought he was dating Yuriko?” Ed prompted.

Arwen and Lev exchanged a look, then glanced at Max, who said. “I think we’re going to have to defer all questions about Nick’s love life to the man himself. But Kiki is still a part of our merry gang and the only time I ever heard her use the name ‘Yuriko’ was when she introduced herself at breakfast.”

Ed let them lead him to a table to get some food and start to catch up. Lev and Arwen had gotten engaged while on a trip to Nepal. Max had a girlfriend and had gone with her to St. Martin. He was talking about the trip when Lev and Arwen started giving him meaningful looks. Max rolled his eyes. “If I tell you something, is it going to get back to my parents?”

“Probably not - unless I think you’re in some kind of danger or trouble.” Ed said automatically. When Max looked doubtful, he thought about it. “Honestly, I don’t know your parents that well and if I can’t raise Nick anymore, there’s no reason to think I can raise any of the rest of you through your parents. But if you are in danger or trouble, you should tell your parents.”

Satisfied, Max launched into a tale full of nudism, polyamory, drinking and gambling. While Ed had to admit he’d be a little bit horrified if Max were his son, he did find himself wishing he could be one of Nick’s teenaged friends instead of his middle-aged stepfather. They sounded like they were having an enormous amount of fun.

Max’s story took a long time to tell because people started drifting over from the dance floor - first Casey then Dennis and Emily then the models in small groups. As word got out that he was Nick’s father, everybody wanted to meet him. That got them drawn into Max’s story. Soon, everyone was arranged in a circle around him and Max, asking questions and laughing where appropriate. When Natasha came back and brought Ed his check-in kit, somebody asked if she was his girlfriend. When she explained who she was, Max said. “No. Eddie is dating Connie Carlisle. And we have heard way too much about it.”

This was news to Ed, but it wasn’t long before Arwen, Emily, and Max had told him way too much about the way too much Connie had told them about him. He couldn’t remember blushing that hard since high school, but he couldn’t ever remember laughing so hard either.

As the conversation went on, Ed realized that people kept glancing at him then glancing away. Eventually, he realized they were actually looking a little bit past him. He turned around to find Nick standing there, arms crossed, listening and grinning like a maniac. Everyone around them burst out laughing.

“How long have you been standing there?” Ed asked gruffly.

“Long enough to hear way too much about my father’s sex life.” said Nick. “But don’t worry, I’m bound to return the favor now that you’re here.”

After they’d hugged and the group had started to dissipate, Nick said. “Sorry to keep you waiting down here surrounded by beautiful women ... and I do mean surrounded. They don’t even pay that much attention to me.”

Ed laughed, but said. “I heard you were having lunch with Threnody Ferrari-Stone. What was that all about?”

“Land.” said Nick. “And money. And family. And giant yachts. The conversation kind of ranged all over the place. I don’t think anything was decided, though.”

Ed nodded. “You’re looking well.”

“And you’re looking tan.” said Nick. “I thought you were doing research. You look like you’ve been living at the beach.”

“Some research happens at the beach.” Ed said.

Nick laughed. “Listen, I need to go over a few things with Tanvi. But why don’t we plan to have dinner - all of us who have either lived in or slept with someone from Brownfield Mills? We should all catch up.”

“Do we still have time before dinner to sleep with someone from Brownfield Mills?” Ceilidh asked raising a big laugh.

Nick looked around to make a suggestion and realized who was missing. “Has anyone seen Simon today?”

When no one answered, Max said. “He’s probably been in his room all day cuddled up with an abacus.”

Simon didn’t have an abacus, but he had spent the morning in his room, quietly freaking out. To look at him, no one (with the possible exception of Dennis) would know he was freaking out. By all appearances, he was merely deep in thought, reading intently on his laptop. There was no obvious sign that he’d been doing so for the last six hours or that he had skipped both breakfast and lunch to do so.

He was infodumping as much as his brain would hold on the subject of Threnody Ferrari-Stone. It would have gone faster, but he was also churning through all the possible permutations of motive and strategy that could have led her to have sex with him last night. She obviously hadn’t been overwhelmed by his boyish charm at their first meeting. They’d barely spoken that night and Simon wasn’t charming or particularly boyish.

He knew it was probably about Nick, but reserved part of his processing for the possibility it had something to do with Shelby. Most of the information he found about Threnody online related to things that would put her in Nick’s sphere - her money, the sort-of country she sort of owned, a ton of speculation about her father’s death and her role in it. Information about her private life was a lot mushier. There were too many theories to winnow down to the facts. She was a dominatrix. She was a submissive. She had a harem of men. She had a harem of women. She was in a sheikh’s harem. She was a sex trafficker. She was a sex trafficker’s best customer. She and Jesse had a love child. She was the pope’s mistress. She’d been gangbanged by cardinals. She hosted a gangbang for Europe’s most powerful men every week.

He wanted to call Shelby. When she’d asked him if she should call the number Threnody had given her, he’d told her he couldn’t help with that decision, but that he would accept whatever she chose to do. Unfortunately, he still didn’t have a better answer. And he really needed to talk to Nick more.