My toe got hit by the restroom door last night. Anthony was in the bathroom, and I needed to go, so after I rolled out of bed, he happened to open the door.
Anthony ran his fingers down my hair, but I slapped it away while granting him my best glare. "Do not touch me," my voice is lethal as I try to ignore the endless pain wrapping my toe.
"Mio cuore, we have to go."
I bury my face into the pillow, unwilling to leave the bed. "I don't want to go. You go."
"How can I introduce the new Mrs.Winston to the employees without the Mrs.Winston herself?"
Turning my head, my lower lip pours out, attempting to fight the battle with my non-existing cuteness. Honestly, though, not to brag but I am well above average in the physical department. Although I am a bit chunky on the waist due to lack of exercise, Anthony said he likes it.
He ran his fingers across my hair, revealing my face. "I book you a day at the spa after we finish."
I fought the smile that wanted to make its appearance. "All-day treatment?" I squeak out.
He nods, "All day long." He presses a light kiss on my temple.
After a bit more cuddling and small talk, I prepared for the day. A knock on the door caught my attention, and I walked over to open it. "Gianni? What are you doing here?"
Gianni smiled and spread his arm. "Guess who is your stylist until you leave New York!" he sang.
I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands, and began jogging in place despite the lingering pain between my thighs. "You're going to dress me every day?"
"Only when you're in New York, bella." He smiles before walking towards the closet. "These are your clothes?" He rests his fists on his waist as he stares at the single rack of clothing.
I nod, knowing I shouldn't show Gianni the clothes in my suitcase. I'm quite confident he will take it and rip it to shreds then use them as rags.
"Bella, this is-" Gianni grabs a dress and cringe.
"What's wrong with it?"
"These styles are so last month!" he releases the dress and begins running his fingers down his shirt as if trying to erase any invisible markings.
"So?" I mean clothes are clothes, right?
He gasps, almost as if I offended his family member or worse, his taste in fashion. "You're Mrs.Winston! One of the most powerful women in the world, and you want to wear last month's clothing?" He walks towards me. "This shirt...so meraviglioso, but what happened to the rest of your clothes?"
I look down. "This is Anthony's shirt."
Gianni nods in approval. "Explains it. Mr.Winston always wears the best clothes," he said, looking at the long line of Anthony's clothes from across the closet.
"Aren't you the one who personally picks his clothes whenever he is in New York?" I ask, remembering how Anthony told me, that all the clothes in the closet are hand-picked or designed personally by Gianni.
He nods, "That's why I said he got great taste! Trust me bella, before I arrived, Mr.Winston looked like a walking disaster where even that sexy body can't cover the fashion crimes."
I scratch my head.
"We are in a crisis," Gianni's voice is lethal.
"What crisis?"
"A fashion crisis."
I made a hashtag with my fingers. "#richpeopleproblem," I said with a wide stupid smile.
