I knew he worked for me, but he just seemed like a really muscular version of a chaperone. Stefano sat in the back of the limo with me, and he was just as beautiful as his photo. I wished I could use the camera on my cell phone to take my picture with him and send it to Lori—or better yet, send it to Theresa and Trevor. Who cared about the stupid Sadie Hawkins dance? I was in a limo with a specimen of a hundred percent male hunkiness. Instead, I made small talk with Stefano as Bao-Zhi drove us to the club. Well, I tried to make small talk, anyway. Mostly Stefano talked about the shoots he’d done in Paris and Milan, dropped names of celebrities in the fashion world, and checked the time on his Rolex. I knew it was a Rolex because he pointed it out to me three times. I wanted to tell him, “Okay, you’ve proved your point. You’re rich and well connected. Please talk about something besides your stupid expensive watch.” Instead, I nodded and smiled. When the limo finally pulled up to the club, I saw a line of people waiting outside.
