Page 83 of All the Gossip from Paris
No one was surprised that François was upset about the gown. But the depth of his rage was something that Liam suspected neither of the Royal women had fully anticipated.
How could he even think to accuse Sophie of having betrayed him?
“Was that your brother?” she asked, pulling out an earpiece.
Liam nodded. “Yeah. I figured he and Camille should know what your father said to you.”
Sophie’s father was an old school male chauvinist. The chances of him changing his ways were remote. The fashion house was his, and protecting it was all that mattered. It grated on Liam’s nerves. This whole patriarchy thing was so last century.
He wanted to step into the fight. To take up Sophie’s cause. But he held back, still unsure as to where things stood between the two of them.
Yes, they’d been sharing a bed for a month. The sex was off the charts fantastic. But he’d had great sex before, and it hadn’t stopped him from getting his heart broken.
“What’s the deal with Patrice?”
“What do you mean?” asked Sophie.
Liam sat with his thoughts for a moment. What did he mean by his question? And more importantly why was he asking.
In the two years since he and Brooke had broken up, he’d had more than his fair share of casual encounters. Hookups with women all across the globe. While they’d all been fun, none of them had meant anything.
And yet this past month with Sophie had changed him. Had him feeling a sense of—well he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But there was something different about him.
“Liam?”
Sophie’s voice broke through the clouds. “What do you mean about Patrice?”
He silently scolded himself. You dumbass.
This was the wrong time to get into this with Sophie. She’d already had a tough enough night. He’d seen the crushed hope written all over her face as she’d stood in that ballroom. Seen the light dim in her eyes as she’d been forced to applaud Patrice while he’d accepted the accolades that were due to her.
And then François had accused her of betraying him. She’d saved his precious runway collection. Liam’s right hand curved into a fist.
“Nothing. I mean,” he sighed. “Why does your father pander to Patrice? He has to know the guy is an ass. He does the bare minimum, but takes all the credit.”
Sophie turned away, and stared out the car window. Liam’s gaze settled on the lights of Paris which were reflected in the surface of the rain soaked streets. For a time the gentle whoosh of the car’s tires as they hit puddles on the road was the only sound.
“Because it is what it is,” she replied. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “People like Patrice know exactly what they need to do in order to succeed. My father is consumed by his work. He will stay up all night just to make sure that a garment is perfect.”
She turned to face him. “I was an idiot thinking I could showcase my gown, and that he wouldn’t view it as an existential threat.”
Sophie lay her head back against the soft leather seats and closed her eyes. Today should have been her day. Her victory. Instead it had ended with her father accusing her of treason.
She swallowed down her tears, refusing to let them fall. This wasn’t the first time her father and her ex had conspired to humiliate her. But she was determined it would be the last.
After everything Liam had done for her, she didn’t have the heart to tell him what else her father had said. That he thought it best if she and Patrice were in step with one another. She knew what he’d really meant by that remark.
Liam didn’t need that sort of pressure. If he truly felt something for her then it should come from a place of want, not obligation.
When the car pulled up in front of the chateau a half hour later, Sophie climbed out. She waved goodbye to the driver, then headed for the side entrance. She didn’t bother to wait for Liam. Leaving him to collect his camera equipment from out of the trunk of the Mercedes-Benz on his own.
He would want to talk. But she craved peace and quiet. To be alone with her own thoughts.
“Sophie wait up!” called Liam.
She kept walking.
His footsteps echoed after hers as she made her way up to the third floor. He finally caught up with her at the door to her bedroom.
