Page 50 of All the Gossip from Paris
And what a gown.
It was colored blue and white—that much he could manage to describe. There was beading, and lace. After that, the only words he could manage were absolutely exquisite. Nothing could do justice to the sheer splendor of the gown.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Would you say you liked the Sistine Chapel? Or Botticelli’s Birth of Venus?”
Sophie’s brows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t think I would dare compare my gown to either of them.”
Liam moved closer, taking in the intricate beading on the bodice of the dress. “Magnificent seems the wrong word. Do I like it? I’m not sure. I think I might actually be humbled by it. If that makes any sort of sense.”
He was stumbling over his words afraid that he might say the wrong thing. But when a bright smile lit Sophie’s face, he understood the truth. She’d got his meaning.
“Well that is high praise indeed. Thank you, Liam. I really needed to hear that today,” said Sophie.
He didn’t understand haute couture. Couldn’t even begin to profess the tiniest knowledge of the art. But anyone could see that Sophie’s work was outstanding.
So why wouldn’t François let his daughter, who clearly had mad talent, become a leader in his atelier?
This gown alone deserved its own runway show.
“Is it finished?” he asked.
“Yes. I did the last of the beading on the bodice over the summer. It’s been a completed garment for some time now. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’d like to see you in it. Would you wear it for me?”
Would she put the gown on? Sophie found Liam’s request a bit strange. Not the request itself, but the fact that until this very minute no one else had ever asked. Perhaps her father was right. Her work wasn’t good enough.
I’ve shown the design to other people. Maybe they didn’t want to tell me the truth.
“Designers don’t wear their garments.”
“Why not?” He looked her up and down, then turned to the model. “I don’t know much about women’s clothes but I’ve a good eye for their bodies. Apologies if that comes across as a bit creepy. I think you’d look amazing in it, Sophie.”
Liam knew her better than he likely realized he did. Most haute couture runway sample sizes were a European thirty-six, but Sophie was closer to a thirty-nine.
She’d used her own measurements for the gown. Cutting the fabric and hand sewing it in her bedroom. When she finally needed to work with the sewing machines and overlockers in the atelier Sophie had brought the unfinished garment upstairs.
Dare she put the gown on and show him how it looked on her? Was she that brave?
Sophie was still in two minds about whether to say yes, when Liam moved to stand in front of her. He offered her one of his panty dropping smiles. “There is the matter of the photographs I still owe you. So how about we make a deal. You put the dress on, and I’ll take some photos. They will be for your exclusive use only. No one else will ever know about them.”
She’d always had a problem saying no to people. With Liam she found it damn near impossible. He just had that way about him. When he slipped the lens cap off his camera, she sensed the conversation was already over.
“Ok. But this stays between you and me. I don’t want you going and telling Ryan or Cami that I showed you this.” She held out a hand. “Is that a deal?”
He took her hand, and they shook. “Deal,” replied Liam.
Now came the tricky part. Undressing and putting the gown on.
Liam had already seen her naked, but this was somehow different. More intimate. They’d agreed New York was a one-time thing. A mistake. It was supposed to mean nothing to either of them.
Yes. Yes. A mistake. That night stays in America. Damn.
Why did he have to be so handsome? And nice? Not to mention, amazing in bed. And supportive of her career.
Liam Collins ticked all of her boxes.
