Page 48 of All the Gossip from Paris
“Your mother and I are about to leave for Christmas. Please don’t let us part on a disagreement Sophie. But if it makes you happy, I will think about letting you do some other things. Let’s talk when I return. Patrice might have some ideas as to what work you could pick up.”
She already effectively did Patrice’s job, but neither her father nor her ex appeared ready to acknowledge her contributions.
Her father opened his arms and beckoned Sophie into his embrace. She was being dismissed like a small child. Once more told that she wasn’t worthy of her place.
François didn’t want to hear what she had to say; he just wanted her to behave. The flame that her earlier conversation with Liam had lit, flickered and went out.
A resigned Sophie took a step forward. Her father wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a hug. After releasing her from his all too brief embrace, he brushed his hand over her cheek.
“What sort of chocolate would you like me to bring you back from Switzerland? I know you love truffles, so maybe a big box of Cailler. Hmmm?”
“That would be lovely. Thank you, Papa.”
Good girls got nice boxes of chocolates, and told to sit in the corner.
It didn’t take Liam all that long to unpack his suitcase. He didn’t own a lot of clothes. Travelling all the time meant he’d almost perfected the capsule wardrobe. There were a few pieces he interchanged between winter and summer, but the rest of the time he mostly lived in jeans and t-shirts.
He couldn’t think of another time when he might get to wear the Hugo Boss tuxedo the Royals had bought him for the wedding.
He stood at the window of his room, taking in the scenery. The grounds which surrounded the chateau were breathtakingly beautiful. The garden beds which currently slept under winter blankets of straw and burlap were set out in intricate designs. A terrace layout which stepped down from the main house to the grounds below was a fascinating piece of architecture. Various statues, ponds, and water fountains were dotted among the plants. He could just imagine how this place would look in the middle of summer. A riot of color.
I’d love to come and photograph it.
Photos. He’d taken lots of photos when he’d been out with Sophie in Paris.
That could work.
He was about to step away from the window when a figure appeared on the main path leading out from the house. Liam recognized Sophie from the coat she’d been wearing earlier. She was walking at a fast pace, heading toward the nearby River Seine.
But even at this distance he could tell she was upset. Her shoulders were hunched, and her hands were stuffed deep into her coat pockets. Every so often she slowed her steps and glanced back at the house, gave a shake of her head, then resumed walking.
Liam quickly grabbed his camera and trained it on her. The close up focus confirmed his suspicions. Sophie was in tears.
What on earth could have happened between them arriving at the chateau and her now being in such a state of distress?
“That ass Patrice had better not have anything to do with it,” he muttered.
There was only one thing to do. He put his coat back on and headed for the door. If he hurried, he’d be able to catch Sophie before she made it out of the grounds.
The sound of boots on the stone path had Sophie turning to check back the way she’d come. To her surprise it was Liam who rounded the bend and came running down the path. He was at a full run, chasing after her.
“Hey, wait up!” he called out.
She’d been hoping to get away and spend some time alone by the river. But the look of concern on Liam’s face told her he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere by herself. The one time she’d didn’t want a knight in shining armor, Liam Collins had come running to her rescue.
“Hi,” was all she could manage to say. Anything more and she was going to break down in front of him.
He stopped a foot or two short of where she stood. It was then that she recalled Camille having made mention of Ryan’s innate ability to read her moods. It would appear that the gift ran in the family.
“You seem upset. If you want to vent over whatever it is that’s causing that look on your face, I’d be more than happy to listen.”
“What look?” she asked.
“The one that says, ‘I’m just about done with the rest of the world. I’d like someone to stop it so I can step off.’”
Sophie closed her eyes. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him. He might just tell her that he thought she was overreacting. Or worse. That her father didn’t really mean it when he’d said she was already doing enough.
François had torn her down more times than she could recall. Always gently. With a patronizing paternal kindness that burned through to her soul. So what difference would it make if Liam added more fuel to that fire?
