Page 26 of All the Gossip from Paris (Royal Fashion #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Chateau de la forêt

Later that afternoon.

Liam’s words still rang in Sophie’s ears long after they’d finished their lunch. Long after she’d returned home, wrapped her gifts, and put them under the Christmas tree.

What does victory look like?

With her hand on the door of her father’s atelier, Sophie paused for a moment to take a deep breath.

This was not going to be easy. Francois was a stubborn, intractable man at the best of times.

Asking to have a small amount of say in the business mightn’t seem such a big deal, but she wasn’t a fool—her father guarded his power like a dragon protected its jewels.

This couldn’t wait. She had to raise the subject with her father now. Before he left for Switzerland. If she waited, then by the time he returned to Paris in the new year, Haute Couture Week would be almost upon them, and it would be too late.

“Papa!” she called out.

“In here,” he replied.

She found him in the fabric room, hunched over a roll of green silk. He’d used that material for a gown in the upcoming January show. Sophie hadn’t liked the design, but she’d learned over the years to keep her opinions about Francois’ work to herself.

He righted himself but kept his gaze on the fabric. “I can’t figure out what is wrong with that piece, but it just doesn’t work.”

Her tongue settled between her teeth. Other people’s opinions were not what her father ever wanted to hear.

“When are you and Mama leaving for Switzerland?” she asked. An innocuous enough question. Something to shift his thoughts away from the alleged failure of the gown.

“Later this afternoon. The jet is still being serviced for your brothers to take it to the Caribbean. We are using a helicopter instead. We’ll fly to Sion Airport, and our driver will take us by road the rest of the way.”

Her parents would be gone shortly. It was now or never.

Sophie cleared her throat. “I’ve been wondering about what you might say if I took on some more responsibilities, starting with the upcoming Haute Couture Week. I wouldn’t tread on any toes, but I think it’s time I stepped up.”

She bit down hard on her bottom lip, then added. “Unless of course you think it’s not a good idea.”

Why don’t I just lay down and let him walk all over me? I’m so pathetic.

She hated the way she sounded. So meek. So powerless.

If she’d had time, she’d have spent days practicing this speech in order to get it right. To ask her father for a chance at being more than a glorified seamstress.

In Liam’s words, to stop being just a grunt.

Francois sighed. “Not right now, my dear. Stay with the pieces I need you to finish and let that be enough of your contribution to my show.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. “I am ready. Please, Papa, you must give me a chance. I know all the garments. I could help with the layout of the collection.”

The weakness in her voice tore at her soul. She was all but begging. It reminded her too much of those nights she’d spent pleading with Patrice to be with her and no one else. To give their relationship the attention and care it deserved.

Her future as a designer rested in the secret hope that if her father saw how capable she was, in time he’d come to view her as a worthy successor. One day he might agree to let her show her creations in his collections. But that would only happen if she could prove herself.

Or I could just pray for a miracle. At least they have been known to happen.

“Your mother and I are about to leave for Christmas. Please don’t let us part on a disagreement Sophie. But if it makes you happy, I will think about letting you do some other things. Let’s talk when I return. Patrice might have some ideas as to what work you could pick up.”

She already effectively did Patrice’s job, but neither her father nor her ex appeared ready to acknowledge her contributions.

Her father opened his arms and beckoned Sophie into his embrace. She was being dismissed like a small child. Once more told that she wasn’t worthy of her place.

Francois didn’t want to hear what she had to say; he just wanted her to behave. The flame that her earlier conversation with Liam had lit, flickered and went out.

A resigned Sophie took a step forward. Her father wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a hug. After releasing her from his all too brief embrace, he brushed his hand over her cheek.

“What sort of chocolate would you like me to bring you back from Switzerland? I know you love truffles, so maybe a big box of Cailler. Hmmm?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Papa.”

Good girls got nice boxes of chocolates, and told to sit in the corner.

* * *

It didn’t take Liam all that long to unpack his suitcase. He didn’t own a lot of clothes. Travelling all the time meant he’d almost perfected the capsule wardrobe. There were a few pieces he interchanged between winter and summer, but the rest of the time he mostly lived in jeans and t-shirts.

He couldn’t think of another time when he might get to wear the Hugo Boss tuxedo the Royals had bought him for the wedding.

He stood at the window of his room, taking in the scenery.

The grounds which surrounded the chateau were breathtakingly beautiful.

The garden beds which currently slept under winter blankets of straw and burlap were set out in intricate designs.

A terrace layout which stepped down from the main house to the grounds below was a fascinating piece of architecture.

Various statues, ponds, and water fountains were dotted among the plants.

He could just imagine how this place would look in the middle of summer. A riot of color.

I’d love to come and photograph it.

Photos. He’d taken lots of photos when he’d been out with Sophie in Paris.

That could work.

He was about to step away from the window when a figure appeared on the main path leading out from the house. Liam recognized Sophie from the coat she’d been wearing earlier. She was walking at a fast pace, heading toward the nearby River Seine.

But even at this distance he could tell she was upset. Her shoulders were hunched, and her hands were stuffed deep into her coat pockets. Every so often she slowed her steps and glanced back at the house, gave a shake of her head, then resumed walking.

Liam quickly grabbed his camera and trained it on her. The close up focus confirmed his suspicions. Sophie was in tears.

What on earth could have happened between them arriving at the chateau and her now being in such a state of distress?

“That ass Patrice had better not have anything to do with it,” he muttered.

There was only one thing to do. He put his coat back on and headed for the door. If he hurried, he’d be able to catch Sophie before she made it out of the grounds.

* * *

The sound of boots on the stone path had Sophie turning to check back the way she’d come. To her surprise it was Liam who rounded the bend and came running down the path. He was at a full run, chasing after her.

“Hey, wait up!” he called out.

She’d been hoping to get away and spend some time alone by the river. But the look of concern on Liam’s face told her he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere by herself. The one time she’d didn’t want a knight in shining armor, Liam Collins had come running to her rescue.

“Hi,” was all she could manage to say. Anything more and she was going to break down in front of him.

He stopped a foot or two short of where she stood. It was then that she recalled Camille having made mention of Ryan’s innate ability to read her moods. It would appear that the gift ran in the family.

“You seem upset. If you want to vent over whatever it is that’s causing that look on your face, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

“What look?” she asked.

“The one that says, ‘I’m just about done with the rest of the world. I’d like someone to stop it so I can step off.’”

Sophie closed her eyes. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him. He might just tell her that he thought she was overreacting. Or worse. That her father didn’t really mean it when he’d said she was already doing enough.

Francois had torn her down more times than she could recall. Always gently. With a patronizing paternal kindness that burned through to her soul. So what difference would it make if Liam added more fuel to that fire?

It would hurt more. And I don’t know why.

“You recall our discussion earlier today at lunch about me not willing to take a chance. Well I finally did something about it,” said Sophie.

“What did you do Sophie?”

“I asked my father for a greater role in the atelier. To be officially given more responsibility. He said he would think about it, but I know what he really meant. I’m not good enough.

Then he gave me a pat on the head. And because I’m a good girl he promised to bring me chocolates back from Switzerland. ”

Liam winced. “Ouch. That must have stung.”

“Yeah, it did.”

And for some unknown reason her father’s rejection pained her more than it usually did.

She was thirty two and still waiting to claim her future. When Liam moved closer, Sophie’s bottom lip began to quiver. She hated this about herself. Tears were her weakness. They gave others far too much power over her.

He took a hold of her hand, and gave it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “That’s why Camille left France wasn’t it? She got tired of hiding her talent from your father. Ryan told me that on her last day at the atelier, she and your father had a massive blow up.”

After that fight her twin had packed her suitcase and left.

Francois had cut Camille’s finances off thinking it would bring her to heel.

But she’d already prepared her escape plan.

Their cousin Bryce had sponsored her US work visa and backed her fledgling design business Then she’d eventually met Ryan.

And now her sister was a success in her own right.

Sophie had no such plans. She didn’t want to escape.

“Camille has always wanted to design for the ready to wear market. That’s where her passions lie. For me, I want to be recognized as a couture designer. Maybe not one of the greats like Saint Laurent, or Chloe, or Dior, but still a name.”

I want to be someone.

“Could you strike out on your own?” he asked.

“It’s not the same as creating garments for department stores.

It would take many years for me to build a client book like my father has done.

The thing is, I don’t want to usurp him.

I want to be able to continue working at the family atelier, but at the same time be granted the opportunity to lead.

And then one day be able to show my own designs alongside Papa’s. ”

She turned to walk away. Few people understood the world of high fashion; she certainly didn’t expect Liam to be one of them. He was a great guy, but this wasn’t his thing.

Liam kept hold of her hand. “Would you show me your designs? I’d love to see them.”

He was being kind. She wasn’t entirely sure if she could handle kindness right now. There was an odd mixture of urges currently conducting a tug-of-war in her brain. She couldn’t decide whether to indulge in a full on crying session, or go punch a tree.

At least the look on Liam’s face was one of genuine honesty. He cared.

“Please Sophie, share your dreams with me.”

That last plea finally settled the argument for her. Sophie spun on her heel and towed Liam back toward the house. She would show him her latest creation—then perhaps he might begin to understand.