Page 23 of These Thin Lines

The look in Renate’s eyes made the hair on Vi’s neck stand on end, except not in a good way this time. She reached for her tea, and now her hand did tremble. Renate watched her take a sip, then extinguished the cigarillo by stabbing it in the ashtray with considerably more force than necessary.

“I’ve never heard of anything like this happening.” The words left Vi’s mouth before she could stop them.

What an inane thing to say.

Who was she to think herself an expert? But Renate didn’t mock her, nor did she wave at her dismissively as Vi had expected.

“It’s because when it does happen, it is mostly kept quiet. The fact that the Luccis are going to the media with this and are willing to withstand public scrutiny and law enforcement involvement is new and unprecedented. And maybe, just maybe, they will be able to stop this.”

“Stop what?” Vi’s voice was barely a whisper as she watched Renate’s eyes look at her through the cloud of smoke as she lit a new cigarillo.

“Stop this from happening again. Happening elsewhere. Happening at Lilien.” The pit in Vi’s stomach widened, and the food churned in it unpleasantly.

6

ONCE UPON A SAFE HAVEN

Genevieve Courtenay was a very bad liar. It was a well-documented affliction. God knows she’d paid for it with nannies, boarding school teachers, and pupils alike many times, because she was that bad at it. So often, she had, in fact, dropped the practice altogether.

She’d come out to her parents pretty much as soon as she’d figured herself out, since there was no use hiding it. Her father, absent as he often was, would have still seen through whatever stammering explanation she’d have given to his vague, perfunctory question whether she was seeing anyone. So Vi stopped hiding and took his disappointment, as well as her stepsisters’ ridicule. If her stepmother had thoughts about the matter, Gwyneth did not bother sharing.

She rarely bothered with anything when it came to Vi. She’d married her father when Vi was a shy, introverted, and mostly silent teenager hiding in her room, and she never cared enough to pry her out of it. Gwyneth had her daughters, who were the apple of her eye, and the rest mattered very little. She liked her clothes to be couture, her cars to be Mercedes, and her lodgings at the Ritz. She also liked that Vi was rarely heard or seen.

So it was particularly disconcerting that, during dinner at her parents’ penthouse on the Rue de Rivoli, it was Gwyneth who homed in on Vi’s skittishness surrounding the subject of her current employment.

“How is Lilien Haus, Genevieve? Rumor has it Franziska is having a difficult time with next year’s collection.”

That was the other thing. Gwyneth, who was neither gainful nor employed, knew every single rumor that Paris—or London or New York, depending on where the family was at the given moment—had to offer. She attended every party, every event, and every drawing room tea, where such salient details were currency. And Gwyneth knew their value very well.

With all the sisters employed at various fashion houses this summer, it appeared like, for once, the entirety of the Courtenays’ world revolved around couture. Vi, who hadn’t given it any thought months ago when the arrangements were announced, was now second-guessing many of those decisions.

“Ah…”, she took a careful bite of her fish, the cook as excellent as ever, and pretended to chew to allow anyone else to interject.

Inevitably, and blessedly in this instance, Kylie took it upon herself to make that happen.

“I heard she’s a raving demon. And that Lilien is a hellscape. That she runs around in those shit-stomping boots of hers, kicking everything and everyone. I actually half expected Vi to come home beaten and bruised. If anyone is going to set that woman off, it’s sure to be you. What with you falling and stumbling and stammering and whatever other disaster you manage to get yourself into…”

The old jab didn’t even hurt. Kylie wasn’t trying too hard. Vi stabbed a piece of glazed carrot and waited for another beat.

True to form, Gigi wasn’t far behind. “Mother, I kept telling you it was a bad idea to get Vi this job. Either Kylie or I should have landed Lilien Haus. It’s actually a challenge. I’m already bored with my cozy office and attending all these planning meetings.” Gigi looked Vi up and down with a smirk on her face, and Vi took a calming breath.

Never let them see you uncomfortable. They will stick their fingers in that wound until it bleeds all over you.

The piece of fortune cookie wisdom came to her unbidden. She didn’t need a self-help book to keep her mouth shut. That was the only thing that had saved her these past ten years, anyway.

Gigi sneered, her pretty face turning ugly on a dime. “Still, this one being the walking calamity she is, I bet she’s getting a lot of menial tasks there. Are you a good little gopher, Vi?”

The girls laughed, and Gwyneth proceeded to signal for a second helping with a snap of her fingers, already looking bored with the conversation around her.

Vi lowered her eyes to her plate. The joy of being more than that in the past weeks, the nights spent with Chiara practicing photography or being her own personal mannequin—even if she’d opened her big mouth and somehow offended Chiara—was all hers, and she was not going to be sharing any of that with her family.

Still, when she noticed the sudden chill, she lifted her head to see her father’s gaze on her. His expression was calculating, eyes cold and aloof. Vi had seen that look before. As if he wasn’t looking at her at all, as if she was not important in what he was thinking, a means to an end, a tool, and he was figuring out how to use it more efficiently.

Vi almost shivered, collecting herself at the last moment and reaching for her glass. Charles said nothing, his eyes finally leaving her, and focusing his attention on Kylie who was shifting in her seat, a ball of energy this evening, her voice high-pitched with excitement as she spoke.

“And how did you all like the mess at Lucci? Total disaster. I thought Romina would fling herself off that ridiculous, kitschy balcony of theirs. So much drama!”

Vi gripped the fork tighter as dread pooled in her stomach. Her stepsister was spending her summer working for them. She, of course, wasn’t a gopher. Tucked safely into the marketing department, away from any kind of hard labor, Kylie was enjoying a decidedly fun and easy time.

---