Page 18 of These Thin Lines

“Sully, I don’t have time for this. I have work to do, and I’ll deal with Frankie. I do apologize though.”

Vi watched silently as Chiara, eyes everywhere but on her, carefully folded the mangled dress and walked out of the room.

“Aoife—”

But Aoife just shook her head and handed Vi the rest of the garments.

“Take these to her. She really must be out of sorts since she expressly asked for these and forgot to take them. I don’t want to go up there. I’m bound to say things I have been holding onto for far too long, and it’s really not fair to her.”

* * *

The stairsto the fifth floor had become her friends. All the staircases at Lilien Haus were rather spectacular, but every time Vi stepped onto the two flights leading up to Chiara’s studio, her heart sped up. She knew she was pretty pathetic and really, now was not the time to have all these inappropriate thoughts, but she couldn’t help herself.

Arms full of pastel silk, she made her presence known to Chiara who was arranging the damaged gown on a mannequin. Binoche laid curled on the windowsill on her bed, ignoring Vi’s very existence. Chiara lifted her face, eyes tired and the worry lines prominent. They stretched into a grimace of a smile that disappeared as soon as it came on, and only sadness remained.

“Oh, thank you. Would you leave them on the bench by the window?” Binoche gave Vi a baleful glance as she approached and turned on her other side, looking thoroughly disgusted as Vi poked out her tongue at her.

Chiara, for once oblivious to their shenanigans, tsked at her handiwork, re-pinned something, removed the pin and tsked again. Then she took the pencil out of her bun before pulling the hair back up into a tighter one. Suddenly, she turned and gave Vi a speculative look.

“Are the ladies on Rue de Bretagne really busy with Lucci? Or was that another white lie to distract Frankie?”

“Another?” Vi felt the heat creep up her neck and decided that her Converses were amazingly interesting all of a sudden. The red really was a good color on the canvas shoes.

“I heard your remark that this is ‘just a dress’ as I was coming down the stairs. Aoife didn’t call you a master strategist for nothing. It only took you one week to figure out some of the dynamics around here. And with one sentence, you managed to both offend me and the collection, and put Frankie in a position to defend it while frothing at the mouth.”

Chiara stepped closer and gently lifted Vi’s chin, her fingers cool, the touch reaching somewhere way too deeply into Vi. Deeper than a simple lifting of the chin ever had the right to reach. No matter how foolishly romantic such a gesture was. “And I know very well that you have a much better understanding of what this dress is or isn’t. Your education didn’t prepare you for this gig, regardless of whatever it was Frankie hired you for. But you do know better now, Ms. Courtenay.”

“My education?” The words came out as a high-pitched squeak, and Chiara smiled and let her fingers drop from Vi’s face.

“Frankie may have only needed your last name to recommend you for the position as the new intern, her sights on the Savoy Court being what they are.” Vi’s brows rose, since Frankie certainly didn’t act like she wanted or needed Vi’s favor, and Chiara gave her nose a gentle flick with a fingertip. “But I looked at your resume. I do my homework, Ms. Courtenay. The brilliant display of your artistic eye yesterday on the roof aside, and we will get back to that, because I have a lot to say…”

Chiara looked directly at her then, and Vi’s treacherous heart sped up again, her mind working in overdrive, trying to anticipate any potential move. But Chiara just tucked a flyaway behind Vi’s ear.

“As I was saying, yesterday’s adventure with the phone aside, your eye for perspective and concept already told me you are much better than the ‘oh shucks, ma’am’ act you’re trying to pull. So what gives?”

The voice and the gesture were certainly warm, but Chiara’s eyes were shrewd as Vi met them, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

“I didn’t want to cause you any trouble. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to Rue de Bretagne and try to wheedle some time out of them, so that they can redo it, if you want me to… I just wanted to help.”

The truth lay between them like a stone, heavy in the ensuing silence. Then Chiara exhaled sharply and stepped back and away. Vi’s shoulders drooped. She had said the wrong thing. She haddonethe wrong thing. She really never could quite do anything right… Her father’s words rang in her ears, and she allowed her lids to close to stave them.

“Thank you, Ms. Courtenay.” Vi’s eyes snapped open just in time to see Chiara take the silk off the mannequin. “I appreciate it. The thoughtfulness and the desire to help. That is very much appreciated indeed. Because the entire debacle, from the new shape, to the dress, to you offering to help… It made me think of one way you actually can.”

With her back to Vi, Chiara turned her head and threw a bomb over her shoulder, one word from her setting Vi on fire. “Now, strip.”

5

ONCE UPON AN UNRAVELING

Genevieve Courtenay wasn’t a blushing teenager, but she would bet the color of her cheeks was so intense, it could paint the entire length of the Champs-Élysées. And there would probably be quite a bit left.

Had she heard Chiara right?

Strip?

What?

Instead of helping center her, a low chuckle from the woman who’d caused this state of utter panic only made her thoughts scatter more. Chiara was looking at her with such amusement, Vi got a bit offended. Binoche was characteristically unperturbed.

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