BIO: Lucia lives in Europe, often switching it up between cities and people. She’s a fan of all things fashion, music and pop culture as well as a firm believer in studying your way to excellence.
Lucia thinks she’s a really good organizer when in fact her apartment is way messier than she’d like to admit. She spends way too much on shoes and plane tickets. Her soft spots are desserts, but a good meal of any kind will always get a “yes, please.”
In Vogue is Lucia’s first novel. Hopefully, it won’t be her last.
In Vogue Cover Art
SYNOPSIS: King of New York fashion and editor-in-chief of the prestigious Couture magazine, Miles Brodeur loves his demanding job and a routine that means he always knows what’s coming next. Deeply involved in the magazine’s content and culture, Miles doesn’t have the time or the desire for a relationship.
Alexander Mackenzie is a former model turned magazine editor who is just learning about the politics that exist at the intersection of high fashion and publishing. He’s always dreamt of turning Miles’ head and one night, at a glamorous party, his fantasy becomes reality. But Miles’ workaholic nature conflicts with Alexander’s belief that “there’s more to life than what’s printed on the pages of a magazine.”
Despite their fundamental differences, Alexander can’t help but follow Miles back to New York, and once there it becomes clear their association could be addicting--and possibly life-changing.
Set in a world where the beauty of art and the written word collide, Miles is confronted by a fundamental question: is someone ever worth slowing down for?
"Is that why David Beckham has been featured multiple times on the pages of your life’s work? Does your criteria seriously consist of one thing—a man’s ass?"
"Well the ass is a man’s best asset," Alexander smirks, holding the martini glass up. “And don’t call the magazine my life’s work. There are far more important things in life, Miles Brodeur, than what’s printed on the pages of a magazine.”
"And what might those be?" he presses, although whatever Alexander comes up with will never convince him. He already feels the arousal slightly leaving his body, even though Alexander is looking at him the way he hasn’t been looked at by anyone in a very long time.
Pages of a magazine. And this man called himself an editor. No wonder Miles skipped London Fashion Week. It seems to be made out of cotton candy fluff.
"Love," Alexander shoots back, his eyes wide and sincere. Staring directly at him, as if Miles’s whole life story was written behind his eyelids.
"Ah, the classic answer.” After letting out an audible sigh, Miles slightly bows his head, signaling the end of the conversation, an act he mastered years ago. He feels like someone’s poured ice water over his head. He should have realized Alexander would be the kind of person who looks for a partner who will reach for the stars with him.
"If you’ll excuse me, I see my friend waiting for me. Thank you for the interesting conversation, Alexander.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he looks at the young man before him. Zia, Miles’s longstanding best friend and Couture’s creative editor, has been lounging by a different bar, waiting patiently for Miles for the duration of this conversation. Miles shouldn’t use him as an excuse, but he does anyway.
Confusion is crystal clear on Alexander’s face, but that doesn’t stop Miles from turning on his heel and making his way toward that bar, Zia, and relative sanity.
Miles’s mind races, droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. The blue lines of his suit form a beautiful contrast to the ivory color of the floor as he strolls elegantly across the enormous hall, avoiding the tables filled with people interested to hear him speak. It’s not that he feels bad; only too much. His brain is in overdrive once again, and the alcohol he consumed not making it any easier for him to physically process it all.
Love was Roberto Luciano’s spring couture collection for Dior in 2009, which Miles oversaw Zia shooting in the gardens of Versailles.
Love was the thousands of hours of work that went into producing a one-of-a-kind bustier beaded with ivory pearls and a full skirt, evoking the classical romantic femininity of Dior’s silhouette. Miles still remembers the words Roberto said to him after he had shown the collection.
"It is our job to make people dream.” His Italian accent still rang bells in Miles’s mind, as if he was hearing him say it for the first time.
And to fall in love, Miles always added to the quote whenever he recalled that moment. Hopelessly, foolishly in love.
It’s what Miles always took for granted, knowing better than to question it. The Earth’s population might as well be divided into dream makers and dreamers. And dream makers don’t get to experience dreams. Artists don’t get to see happiness, because for them regularity isn’t optional; it is to be avoided at all costs. The list goes on in Miles’s head, always ending with the same conclusion. Some get to choose love, some get to choose their dreams. Only the lucky few get to have both. Miles has never been one of them.
“Ahhh, nice to meet you. Haven’t seen you before. Are you new to our game?” Luciano’s eyes are smiling, and his hand rests on Alexander’s elbow as if they’re old friends.
“It’s an honor. I’ve been a huge fan since I was a child.” Alexander looks like it’s Christmas morning, his eyes bright and his smile spread wide.
At Alexander’s compliment, Luciano bows his head, his smile still present. Throwing his arms in the air, he gasps.
“How happy this makes me, to know Miles found someone this sweet. Look at you two, glowing!”
Before Miles even has time to recover, Alexander takes a deep breath and answers. “Oh, we aren’t together! I haven’t even kissed him yet, but I’m working on it.”
Like it’s nothing.
It’s ridiculous, but also a lot confusing, the way Miles’s insides twist when Alexander looks at him after confirming his obvious attraction to Miles to the biggest fashion icon of their generation.
Miles isn’t sure, but he suddenly feels as though he can hear colors.
He sees Luciano’s head bouncing up and down, eyes brimming with tears from laughing. Did he actually space out?
When the designer speaks again, he’s looking at Alexander.
“Don’t give up on him, the first time I saw him he was cool as a cucumber; closed off, all work. And then he puts all his effort into bringing me back to the industry, shows more passion than anyone I’ve ever seen before. Soon enough, Margaret sees it too, and look at us now. I’m back and he’s the king!”
The laugh takes him over again as he continues, unfazed by the world around him. “Everything looks better in the morning. If he doesn’t open his door for you today, knock again tomorrow!”
Alexander’s like a ray of sunshine next to him, smiling kindly at Roberto, his gaze flickering between the two men he’s standing with.
It’s not that Miles doesn’t get compliments. Getting them from your personal heroes though, that’s a nice change. Miles takes note to not let this slip from his memory. Not sure what he’s focusing on more, the words he was rewarded with or Alexander’s unspoken, heavy reaction to them, he vows to himself to remember the moment as a whole.
When they finally escape the backstage hustle, it’s to fierce Paris sunshine and vivid streets, busy with media and lined-up cars waiting to take guests to the next show.
Alexander turns to him as soon as they are out the door, but not before checking if someone is listening in around them.
“Wanna kill the time before Saab with me? I’m taking Roberto’s advice.”
And when Miles informs Alexander he shouldn’t, Alexander doesn’t seem to want to hear it. Instead, he walks over to Miles’s car.
The man is full of wonders, as Miles can never spot his designated car without Sabine’s help. Masking his amazement, he follows suit and climbs in when Alexander opens the door for him, and they ride in silence. Miles’s nerve endings are on alert and he’s aware of every breath Alexander takes. It should bother him, but mostly he’s just lost. Alexander’s legs are long next to his, and he’s leaning on the door, his eyes locked on the passing surroundings.
Miles falls in love with Paris a bit more.