Punching a code into the security keypad, Sophie pushed open the door to the House of Royal atelier, and ushered Liam inside. “Welcome to where the magic all happens.”
“Wow. Look at that view,” said Liam. His gaze was fixed on the panoramic scene which the bank of tall floor to ceiling windows on the opposite wall, afforded the room.
Like the stairs, the view outside was something she didn’t really pay much attention to when she was up here. She knew the grounds and the river which flowed beyond them like the back of her hand. Still it was lovely to see a visitor become so quickly enamored with her home.
“The River Seine looks amazing from up here,” said Liam. He pointed to the silver ribbon of water which traced a line along the bottom of the hill, before eventually disappearing into the distance.
“Yes. It’s so different once it escapes central Paris. After here, it flows through the rest of France, all the way to the English channel.”
She loved the Seine. Her daily treks along its banks were one of the few moments during the day where she could actually spend time alone with her thoughts. Away from people.
“We can go for a walk down to the river once we’ve finished here. But we’ll need to sneak out the back in order to avoid my family,” she said.
When he gave her a quizzical look, Sophie sighed. “I’m supposed to be taking you around Paris and keeping people away from here. According to my mother she has a billion and one things to do before the wedding. If she knows you are on the estate, she will drop what she is doing and come play hostess. And then I will be in big trouble.”
“Hmm. So we sneak in here, have a look around, then disappear?” he replied.
The mischievous grin on his face was priceless. Liam had a way about him. Sophie couldn’t resist the thought of the two of them getting naked in among the designer racks.
Stop thinking about him like that. New York happened, but it can’t happen again.
If only it could.
But she’d already made up her mind about Liam. Decided he was a ‘here for a good time’ not a ‘here for a long time’ type of guy. And the last thing she needed in her life right now was another man who would treat her heart like a little toy. Something to be played with then tossed aside as soon as he got bored.
With his arms held out in front of him, Liam did a little Maracana move. “Come on show me the clothes, or else I’ll make you dance for me once more,” he teased.
“There is a strict no dancing rule in the atelier,” said Sophie. The deadpan expression on her face telling Liam she wasn’t joking.
Suitably cautioned, he followed her over to a nearby metal bench. From the couple of times he’d been to Camille’s workshop, Liam knew what this was—it was a cutting table. But where Camille’s was big enough to cut one or two pieces, this table could easily hold quite a few more.
“This is the cutting table. After a client has been fitted for garments, and a deposit made, we take the fabric and lay it out here. This is a process that can take several days. The fabric we use is made in limited batch runs. Everything has to be measured. The markings are then double checked before finally being cut,” she explained.
Sophie brought over a small roll of fabric and set it on the table. She then loosened the end piece and lay it out flat. Liam’s eyes grew wide as he took in the delicate material. “Is that real gold thread?” he asked.
“Sort of. It’s silk thread with a mixture of gold and other metals wrapped around it. Real gold would be too weak to put into a garment. But it is still an incredibly expensive piece of fabric.”
“Which explains why haute couture clothes cost so much,” he replied.
Sophie nodded. “That and the many hours of work which go into each piece.” She moved away from the table and beckoned him to follow. On a nearby clothes rack hung a long pale green evening gown. There were hundreds of silver beads sewn into the top half, and many others dotted all over the lower skirt.
“Every detail of this gown has been created by hand. The atelier team have been working on this particular piece for the past three weeks. The craftsmanship is what makes such a garment haute couture.” She motioned for him to come closer. “Come and touch it—feel how amazing this fabric is now that the beading on the bodice is mostly finished.”
Unsure of himself, Liam wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. “Are you sure?”
Sophie turned and picked up a pair of white cotton gloves off a nearby bench and handed them to him. “This is the pair Papa was wearing when he was checking the beading earlier in the week so they should fit you.”
Liam slipped the gloves on, then taking hold of the end of the gown, lifted it. The fabric was heavy. The beads clearly making up the weight.
“Is this part of the house’s current collection?” he asked, hoping it sounded like he’d been paying attention.
“It’s a variation on one of Papa’s pieces from last year. The relationship between the haute couture designer and their clients is a personal one. You could describe it as being intimate, such is the bond they share. This particular gown is a custom design for a client whose husband is about to become the head of a major European bank. She will be wearing this on the night of his celebratory ball.”
“Her gown reflects on his success?” He might just be a guy from New Jersey, but even Liam understood the value of optics.
“Exactly.”
Mention of Sophie and Camille’s father brought to mind another question he’d been wanting to ask. “So where do you fit in all of this, Sophie? I mean if your father is the designer, and he has a workshop of artisans, what role do you play?”