Page 96 of All the Gossip from Paris
It was fun to ignore his calls and delete his voice messages. It was also a little bit childish. “I’m going to have to call him,” she said.
Liam nodded. He knew who she meant. He sat forward and gave her a smile. “Whatever you decide to tell François, I will support you. This is your life, Sophie. We will figure this out as we go. Just remember what we both said last night.”
Last night, he’d told her he loved her. That he wanted them to share this adventure. She loved him too. And no one was going to bully her into going back to a life that wasn’t truly her own.
“I love you, Liam.”
“Sophie, I love you too babe.”
Sophie hit dial and put the phone to her ear. François answered immediately. “Where are you?”
“I’m seated on flight AF2 which is currently boarding at Charles de Gaulle airport. Liam and I are flying to New York. In a few days we are traveling to São Paulo, Brazil.”
Her father’s heavy sigh came down the line. “And just how long do you intend on staying in Brazil? I mean Haute Couture Week might be over, but we will have many fittings and orders to go out in the next few months. Clients are already asking about the gown you slipped into my show. What am I to tell them?”
He was working the guilt angle perfectly.
In days gone by, she would have abandoned her dreams and gone back to the chateau. She would have picked up her needle and thread, and done as she was told. But Sophie Royal had officially handed in her ‘people pleaser’ card. There was no going back.
“The assignment is for two weeks, but after that who knows where I’ll go. As for the gown. It is my farewell gift to you. If any clients want the dress, it’s yours to make.”
She didn’t expect her father to understand. The gown would always be something she was proud to have created. But she no longer considered it as hers.
“So I can count on you being over this crise de colère by late February. Then you will come home.”
Not a question. A statement. A command.
She took the glass of champagne which Liam offered her and downed a mouthful. It helped settle her nerves.
“It doesn’t matter when return to France. I’m not coming back to work at the atelier. I am no longer an employee of yours, François. I am just Sophie Royal, your daughter.”
He wasn’t the only one who could throw some emotional blackmail into the mix.
“And what about Patrice?”
She was sorely tempted to simply answer back “What about Patrice?” But she was determined not to let this conversation descend into a bitter argument.
“Patrice works for you. He is your number two. As for me, he is merely a member of your staff. Any connection I had with him is long buried in the past.”
Let her father find out for himself just how useless his golden boy Patrice really was, and how little he knew of the business of fashion. She could admit to a sense of guilt over that part of her leaving. But not a lot.
François was going to be in for a readjustment of his views. But perhaps it had always been something inevitable, something he would have to learn first-hand. Only then might he finally accept that Patrice had never been all that good at his job.
“I’m disappointed in you.”
Sophie closed her eyes. Like always, his words stung. But having made her decision to walk away, they no longer held her captive. It was time to speak her own truth.
“I’m disappointed in you too, Papa. You could have recognized my efforts for the runway show. Instead you chose to keep my light hidden. As you have always done.”
“But we were going to discuss your future this morning. Instead you have thrown a tantrum and are now leaving the country.”
“No tantrum, Papa. I just know that you would have expected me to be grateful for whatever small graces you intended to grant today. And that is not enough.”
Sophie could only hope that if the day ever came when her father sat and wondered why both his daughters had left the family business, this conversation would bubble up in his memory.
“But I still love you, Papa. I hope that when I see you again you will be fully recovered.”
Her father was silent for a moment. Recalling how badly things had gone between François and Camille when she’d left, Sophie held her breath.
