Page 46 of All the Gossip from Paris (Royal Fashion #2)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

She’d been caught between two worlds. On one hand she still hoped to salvage her future career at the atelier. While on the other hand was the tempting allure of what a life with Liam might look like.

Long before she’d caught sight of Liam standing on the path, Sophie had realized why Patrice had sought her out. It wasn’t anything to do with her father’s plans for the atelier. It was about making sure he got in the way of her and Liam.

Patrice was up to his old tricks again.

As she drew closer to where he stood, she’d prayed Liam would ask to talk to her. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d turned and left.

He had seen Patrice walking with her and had taken it the wrong way. Somehow assumed that she and her ex had patched things up. Did he have such little faith in her?

Sophie’s stomach was in tightly bound knots by the time they reached the chateau.

“Would you like me to sit next to you at lunch?” asked Patrice.

She couldn’t face the prospect of food, let alone sitting anywhere near him. If she did join the family for lunch, it would mean having to endure Patrice while he boasted over his false victory. The mere thought made her skin crawl.

But right now, Patrice was the least of her concerns. Liam was the real worry.

“No, Patrice. I don’t think I will come for lunch. I am still tired from last night. I might just go back to my room and then eat later. But thank you.”

It took all her energy to be polite to him. To keep her true feelings to herself. She would never go back to Patrice. Never again bend the knee.

I have to find Liam. Talk to him. Explain.

“Alright, but promise you will come find me when you are done. You and I need to discuss our future. It’s time we stopped playing childish games.”

Patrice headed in the direction of the dining room. The confident swagger in his walk said it all. In his mind she had already caved. His work was done.

Now all he had to do was go charm her mother. Over lunch he would make subtle enquiries of Marina. Ask her what sort of date would be suitable for the next Royal family wedding.

You complete and utter asshole.

Sophie started up the stairs. Liam hadn’t come back to the house as yet, but she wanted to be waiting for him when he returned. To have the conversation she should have had with him last night.

Her younger brother was just coming out of the sunroom when she reached the top of the stairs. No doubt éliott had just been in to see Francois. He gave her a friendly wave in greeting. “Ah, just the person I was sent to find. Papa wishes to speak with you.”

She was in no mood for another one of her father’s lectures. And if he expected her to offer an apology for having walked out on him last night, he was going to be disappointed. Sophie was done with apologies.

Her brother gave her a reassuring pat on the head. “I’m sorry if you would rather be somewhere else. Papa was insistent. The doctor has lowered his pain medications. Which means while he is in a little more discomfort, his thoughts are brighter. I should warn you, he’s up to something.”

Sophie’s mind was elsewhere. She glanced back down the stairs, silently wishing that Liam would make an appearance. If she could just have a couple of minutes with him. Talk to him. Convince him that Patrice was up to his usual mindfuck games.

But the staircase remained empty.

éliott reached out and took a hold of Sophie’s arm. “I heard about what Papa said to you last night. That is so far out of line. But please I beg of you don’t mention anything about the gown.”

His words of warning finally roused Sophie from her worries about Liam. It was unusual for her brother to give a damn about anybody but himself. Closer to a miracle would be more accurate. The i in éliott was always about him.

“Why is it so important that I not say anything about the piece I put into the collection?” she asked.

“Because our father has just spent the last hour lecturing me about getting a job. I think he means to punish you over the gown, by moving me into the atelier. And get this... he plans on having Patrice mentor me.”

They both winced at that ridiculous notion.

éliott no doubt because actually having a job was so utterly foreign to him, it bordered on ridiculous.

Sophie, because she could see the writing on the wall.

If a male Royal came to work for their father, she’d be pushed even further down the pecking order.

“So, what are you going to do?” asked Sophie.

“What I always do. Pack a bag and dash to the airport. The Australian Open tennis is on this week in Melbourne. A friend of mine is the daughter of one of the event’s main sponsors. If Papa wants to talk further about his evil plans, he won’t be able to find me.”

She couldn’t fault her brother’s logic. There was safety in being half a world away from their father.

Sophie hugged her younger brother. “Have a good trip down under. Bring me back a stuffed koala.”

“Will do. And make sure you don’t agree to any of Papa’s stupid ideas. You should be the one managing the atelier—not Patrice. You’ve proved your worth time and time again. If that fool in there refuses to see it…”

The rest didn’t need to be said.

Sophie waited for a moment as her brother headed off in the direction of his bedroom. With a resigned sigh she pushed open the door of the sunroom. The sooner she got this over with, the quicker she could go find Liam.

She could understand why Francois had chosen the sunroom as his place to recuperate.

It was light filled, and airy. Soft rugs covered much of the original oak flooring.

Stopping just inside the door Sophie kicked off her damp boots.

She’d be in big trouble if she was caught walking on one of the antique Aubusson rugs in dirty shoes.

Her sock clad feet barely made a sound as she walked across to where her father was seated in an overstuffed armchair.

His broken leg was propped up on an antique ottoman, and a cashmere throw kept the cast hidden from sight.

Francois Royal, as always, was all about making the most of his appearance.

“Ah Sophie. Just who I wish to speak to. I trust that éliott found you?”

Nodding she took a seat in the guest chair. It was artfully situated in front and to the right of where her father sat. She had a momentary vision of him being a king, and her a mere member of his royal court.

But that’s what I am. I serve at his leisure.

“Yes, I met éliott when I returned from taking Rollo for a walk along the river.”

Her father waved a hand toward the window. “It looks chilly outside. The news forecast is for more snow tonight.”

Sophie focused her gaze on the throw rug. Her father liked to preface tough conversations with small talk. The more detailed his remarks about the weather and other non-threatening topics, the harder the discussion that was to follow.

Francois cleared his throat. “I have been talking to Patrice. He and I had an honest conversation about how things went over the past few weeks. I understand that some of your earlier decisions made it difficult for him to present the show. He decided it was better for all concerned if he took a step back.”

“Is that what he told you?” she asked.

Patrice the spider. He’s been in here spinning his web of lies.

Her voice was icy calm. She wasn’t going to let her simmering rage get the better of her.

“Yes. This business is my life’s work. I can’t have it failing the moment I turn my back.”

“Well if you would allow me to actually run things properly it wouldn’t fail. Patrice made it?—”

“Enough!” Her father held up his hand. Sophie immediately fell silent. It was a habit deeply ingrained from a lifetime of being told to shut up and listen. Of course he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. It went against the way he worked. His word was law.

“My pain is now under control, so I have put a few thoughts down on paper. Some plans for the months ahead. I’ve also mentioned parts of this to éliott.”

Sophie ground her teeth. Her brother’s warning rang true. She knew where this was headed. Patrice would be secure in his role of second in charge. éliott would be handed a nice cushy job. And she would be made to yield.

Her gaze clouded over as Francois set about lecturing her on how things were going to run in the future. How Patrice was going to step up and take control until he was fully recovered. How Sophie would learn to toe the line.

It was strange to sit and listen to her father. She’d sat through countless variations of this lecture in her life, taking them all in. But today she simply bided her time. She finally stirred from her thoughts when Francois snapped his fingers at her.

“Well? Did you read the interview I gave to French Vogue?” he pressed.

What interview?

“No. I wasn’t aware that you had spoken to them,” replied Sophie.

Her father gave a tsk of disappointment. “See? That is why you couldn’t be given more responsibility at the atelier. You don’t make the effort to keep abreast of what is happening. Patrice said he’d mentioned it to you.”

She was certain that her ex hadn’t, but since they’d all been so busy, she was prepared to let Patrice have this one. What difference could a missed interview make?

Her father picked up his computer tablet and handed it to her. “Have a read.”

Sophie skimmed over the article. It mentioned her father’s recent accident and the challenges it had presented. It mentioned Patrice and the wonderful job he’d done in pulling together a successfully Haute Couture Week runway show.

She caught her name toward the bottom of the article, and focused her attention on carefully reading the relevant paragraph. When she’d read it a second time, Sophie rose from the chair. She handed the tablet back to her father.

“I hope reading that article makes things clearer for you Sophie. Tomorrow morning at eleven I want you to come back and see me. Patrice will be here, and we shall talk further. Now, off you go.”