Blonde Ops Read Online Free Page B

mine soft in her tight grip. “I’m sorry, I should have met you at the airport myself and introduced you to everyone, but things have been crazy.” She swung an arm around her office, which was crammed with a large desk; boxes overflowing with papers, photos, and fabric samples; and shelves stacked with back issues of Edge and other magazines. “Rome isn’t New York, no real office space to be had, so we had to rent this town house.”
    â€œIt’s homey,” I said, and I meant it. Definitely not a “corporate” type of place. I liked that.
    She grinned. “Isn’t it? Maybe I can convince our publisher to change things up back home. First, though, I’d like to start with extending our stay here.”
    I tilted my head at her. “Has anyone ever told you—”
    â€œThat I look like the First Lady?” She laughed and sat back down. “Yes, I get that a lot. Go get your things while I shut down my computer. Then we can talk on the way to the hotel.”
    Finally! Mom never said anything about me working for fashionista fanatics. I hoped Parker would set this all straight. Maybe I’d still come back to visit Sophie, though—say, around 4:30 … when Dante stopped by.
    I retrieved my backpack and laptop case from the corner where Kevin had told me to stash them. He was right about no one touching them. After spending an afternoon at the Edge office, I understood why no one there would have any interest in me or my gear. No labels. No leather. No logos. In other words: L. A. M. E.
    Parker exited her office, wrapped in a brilliant orange shawl and carrying a coordinating Birkin. I followed behind. Mostly everyone was gone—except Kevin and Sophie. They sat on opposite ends of the vast common area, bent over their laptops with papers and photos spread all around.
    â€œYou’re still here?” Parker said.
    Sophie looked up. “Just going over these last edits.”
    Parker smiled. “Kevin!”
    He raised his head.
    â€œIn the morning, we need to go over the ad proofs,” she said to him, and slid an eye in Sophie’s direction. “Now, lock up and go out on a date or something.”
    He looked stunned. And embarrassed. “But what about—”
    â€œKevin,” She threw up a hand and now looked directly over at Sophie as if the message was meant for her too. “It’ll get done tomorrow. You’re in Rome. Go fall in love, throw coins in a fountain, or visit a museum.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œGo. Home.”
    Kevin smiled tightly, and although he looked taken aback, nodded and said, “We’re leaving. See you tomorrow.”
    I followed her outside. The sky had just started to darken, and the sun glinted gold over terra-cotta rooftops.
    â€œMy staff might be small, but they’re dedicated. And Kevin”—Parker sighed—“he’s so…”
    â€œIntense?” I offered dryly.
    She smiled at me. “That’s the word.”
    Well-dressed men and women strolled by us as we walked to the hotel, nodding and smiling as they passed. The late spring air was warm and scented first with strong espresso and the sweetness of toasted hazelnuts as we passed a crowded café, then with the sharp snap of garlic that wafted out of an open restaurant door. My stomach rumbled. Parker kept up a steady stream of chatter as we walked.
    â€œWe’re staying at the Hotel Beatrici while we’re working on the September issue,” she said, keeping a brisk pace in what had to be three-inch heels over the cobblestones. At this point my brain was too weary and underfed to do more than keep one foot moving in front of the other, but I somehow managed to appear interested and paying attention. “We do the location photography on-site except for some indoor shots. At the office we handle all administrative and editorial tasks.” She paused, giving me a sympathetic