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FIANNA FIDGETED WITH a pink linen napkin on her lap. The open-air café at the Beverly Hills Hotel was a popular power lunch spot. She and Dahlia were waiting at the table for Dahlia’s grandmother, Camille, who’d established the family perfume company decades ago. Fianna wore a supple matte jersey dress with a flared skirt and sleeves and draped lace accents. The peach shade set off her hair. It had been one of her most popular designs for her cruise collection last year.
“I have to admit, I’m nervous, Dahlia.” Fianna and Dahlia had been talking about branding a perfume for her line for a long time, but Camille had not been supportive of the idea. Would she be now?
“Relax, she’s always curious,” Dahlia said. “She likes to keep track of new talent. Plus, you look splendid. Every woman i
