Page 3 of All the Gossip from Paris
Liam cleared his throat. “And you are meant to be my assistant. Or should I go back downstairs and tell the guy on the front door that I also made a mistake?”
But that clever smile of hers had him enthralled. He’d known this woman for all of two minutes, and he was already a goner.
Sophie moved closer, and Liam couldn’t tear his gaze away. “I don’t think you would do that Liam. Camille told me all about your photographic work. Your insta account looks amusant.”
The way she said that last word in French, almost did him in. “Does it?”
Her finger traced over the collar of his black polo shirt, before coming to rest at the base of his neck, right over the pulse. Liam’s heart was racing. She had to know what this was doing to him.
“Yes, it’s fun. But what I don’t see is a lot of fashion photography on your profile. So I’m thinking that having someone who has worked in fashion all her life as your assistant, would be a good thing for you. I mean I could teach you a few things— if you like.”
I bet you could teach me plenty of things.
But this wasn’t Liam’s first rodeo. Over the past couple of years he’d learned a thing or two about flirting. About boundaries and when to cross them.
He’d also learned that it never paid to mix business with pleasure. Or in this case not to get tangled up with the hot-as-fuck sister of his brother’s employer. As far as he was concerned, Sophie Royal was well and truly off limits.
Life can be so cruel on a guy.
To his bone deep relief the elevator came to a smooth halt, and the doors slid open. Liam took the camera bag from Sophie, then sheepishly followed her out into the exhibition space.
The ride from the lobby to the thirtieth floor had taken all of a minute but in that time, he’d managed to check Sophie out. He’d also got caught doing it.
And what had she done? She’d teased and laughed at him.
And given me a half-boner in the process.
He was already hot under the collar. Another minute alone with this woman and he’d be in deep trouble.
The Really Big Space. What a stupid name to give to an exhibition room.
Paris had much more elegant titles. There was the Palais de Tokyo, the Louvre, and the Petit Palais. Sophie took in the bare concrete flooring and stark neon lighting overhead. There was nothing French chic or glamorous about this place. She doubted it had ever seen a crystal chandelier.
I wonder if this is what one of those Costco stores looks like inside. Maybe they have some big packets of donuts hidden away somewhere in the back. I could kill a sweet pastry right now.
Huge black and yellow posters of New York taxi cabs hung from the ceiling and were draped around the walls. The runway floor had been marked out like a street scape. The only thing missing was a set of traffic lights and a few hundred New York pedestrians. It was all so very strange.
The authorities who oversaw both Paris Fashion Week, and Haute Couture Week, the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode would never allow anything as basic as this at one of their elegant events, that was for certain.
But this is America, and New York City always sets its own rules.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a familiar figure. Camille was headed her way. Sophie found herself instantly fighting back tears.
I miss you.
She gathered her scattered emotions as Camille drew close.
“What’s with the giant taxi posters, mon amour?”
Camille grinned at her. “Would you believe, Cinderella in the City? And our Prince Charming is a cab driver.”
As Sophie scanned the space once more, the Cinderella theme began to make clearer sense. Her sister’s ready to wear collection was designed for the modern working woman. New York City was the epitome of the concrete and glass world which that sort of woman inhabited.
“Wow, that actually sounds fun. Has it really sunk in yet, that you’re being featured in New York fashion week?”
“Maybe it will tomorrow, when this place is full of people.” Her sister glanced behind Sophie, and her brows furrowed. “Is it just you here tonight? No Mama or Papa.”
“Mama and Papa are resting up with Uncle Edward and Aunt Alice at their estate. I couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting and listening to the four of them reliving their glory days. So, I told them I was coming into the city to go clubbing. It was only after the Royal Resorts drivers dropped me off out front of the building, that I realized my phone’s battery was dead.”
