Page 63 of These Thin Lines

“I never said—”

Chiara’s protest fell on deaf ears.

“Ah, child, lesser mortals may not have made the connection between Lilien Haus’ dismal collections over the past four years and your divorce, but I am no lesser mortal. The spark? The genius? The talent? That was all you. Spine too, from what I see. Obstinance. That’s fine. A genius has the right to be stubborn.”

She touched the bodice of the dress closest to her, rings glinting in tandem with the few strands of gold that ran through the embroidered flowers.

“You can be all these things, including stubborn and temperamental. But you cannot be oblivious. And I don’t think you are. Am I right?”

Pale eyes zeroed back in on her, and Chiara felt the power of them.

“I am familiar with you, Ms. Archibald Avant. And I am not a novice to the industry, no matter what my previous venture entailed or how big my exposure was. But I’m still not sure what it is you’re asking of me.”

“Asking…” Arabella laughed again. “Neve did say you were quite set in your ways. Good on you. As reclusive as your ways are.”

Still running her fingers along the bodice with considerable and surprising reverence, Arabella smiled. “I don’t blow smoke up people’s asses, Chiara Conti. I don’t need to. I come in, I look, and things fall in line.”

“I am not athing. And I’m not entirely certain what line you’re talking about when it comes to Chiaroscuro. But this is personal to me.” Insulted, Chiara raised her eyebrow, and Arabella’s smile widened.

“That is understandable. If I am right about Franziska—and I am rarely wrong about people—you’ve never had much of a say, despite all of your talent and your sacrifices. So of course, in that sense, you are a thing. A commodity. We all are. And we all play our roles in the big scheme of those things. But I will spare you the pretenses and platitudes—”

“Additional ones?” The teasing got Chiara another bark of laughter.

“Oh, I like you. I like you very much, Chiara Conti. And so here is what I want. Spelled out. You probably overheard me earlier anyway. Poise will scrap its entire special holiday issue this October and dedicate one to you. ‘Chiara Conti’s Big Return.’ As a supermodel, you were a star of massive proportions. Unprecedented for your time. An out and proud lesbian walking the biggest catwalks.” Arabella’s eyes shone with something akin to pride, and Chiara, once again, found herself wondering about the deeper motivation that ran as an undercurrent in this meeting.

With a graceful gesture around herself, Arabella continued. “Right now, you are quietly taking the wedding gown market by storm. And I think all this stealthiness is paying off in some ways. Everyone is curious. Everyone is on the edge of their seats.” The pause was as theatrical as it was effective, and Chiara suspected Arabella knew it. “And you and I will blow them all away.”

Chiara had to cross her arms over her chest to hide her shaking hands. It was suddenly all so real, so big. “You assume that this kind of fame is something I want, Ms. Archibald Avant.”

“You can call me Arabella, Chiara Conti. All those dusty names belong to my husbands, after all. And while I cherish the access and the comfort they provided, Arabella was and is who I actually am.”

“And yet, you call me by my full name.” Chiara pursed her lips and stared down the older woman.

“That’s right. Your full name, child. To remind you that you’re no longer a Lilienfeld. To underscore that you already crossed that line. And that it’s time to come out from under those murky shadows.”

Crafty witch.It was Chiara’s turn to concede, and she felt her lips stretch into a grin.So very cheeky. So very smart.

Arabella laughed along, presumably at her own astuteness, and the atmosphere in the studio lost its tension.

“An entire special issue?” Chiara narrowed her eyes. She could see the possibilities. On the other hand, Chiaroscuro would be firmly thrust into the spotlight, and she would never be able to get out of it again. It took the control over events away from her, and that sent a shiver down her spine. But it would also bring all that glory Renate and Aoife so wanted for her. Should she risk her privacy, her security in anonymity for the satisfaction of her friends? Oh, who was she kidding? She’d walk to the ends of the earth for either of those two. And then there was her pride.

She met Arabella’s gaze head-on.

“I’m not averse to fame.”

“Good, because it’s already here. You cannot hide Chiaroscuro under a bushel anymore. It’s too bright, despite its shadows, too full of light. All the puns intended, dearest. And you deserve more than to just sit here in the safety of those shadows. Nothing is guaranteed, ever, but I have a feeling that there will never be a ‘what if I fail?’ moment with you. It will be all about ‘what if I soar?’ from now on. And put quite like that, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Unwittingly, Arabella had just uttered the most damaging thing possible. She’d used the exact same words as Frankie when she’d convinced Chiara and Renate to hire a Courtenay.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, so, so much, really.

The weights of the memories chained to her arms made it difficult to cross them around her chest, as she turned away from Arabella. It was getting so hard to breathe.

Binoche, as always sensing her distress, let out a disgruntled meow from the windowsill, and Chiara approached her cushion, grateful for the opportunity to put more space between herself and those wretched words.

What’s the worst that could happen?

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