Page 42 of All the Gossip from Paris
Sophie snorted a laugh. “Wait ‘til I show you the sushi bar. Papa flew in two of the top ranked sushi chefs from Tokyo. I’m trying to figure out a way to bribe the officials at Charles de Gaulle airport, so they stop the chefs from leaving the country. They could come and live here at the chateau. Imagine all that sushi.”
The expression on her face was one of pure mischief. Liam was game to play along. “There’s a word for what you’re planning. In English it’s what we call kidnapping.”
“In French it’s enlèvement. Which sounds much more elegant to me.”
“Call it what you like, it will still get you twenty years in La Santé prison.”
She waved his words away. “Details. Details. I’ll just bribe the judge.”
“It looks like the two of you are having a fun time of things,” said a male voice. The smile on Sophie’s face disappeared in an instant.
Liam slowly turned around.
Patrice, the self-opinionated douchebag, came to stand alongside him. As casually as he could, Liam popped the rest of his arancini ball into his mouth. He took his time slowly chewing it, figuring that such open disregard would annoy Sophie’s ex.
“We are having fun. Mama asked me to take care of Liam at the wedding. He doesn’t speak any languages other than English, so I’m playing hostess,” said Sophie.
Liam caught the expression of disgust as Patrice sniffed. “Really? I would have thought since your brother has just married into one of the world’s most powerful families that you would have at least bothered to download Duolingo.” Patrice laughed at his own pathetic jest, then added. “Or were you too busy watching people make fools of themselves on TikTok?”
Sophie might have said her cousins were likely to kick off at some point, but if this dick kept going, Liam might be the first one to throw hands. He took in a deep calming breath.
“No. I was too busy working to learn more than the basics of a few languages. But who knows? Sophie might offer to give me some French lessons in private,” replied Liam. His carefully chosen words were rewarded when a flash of anger crossed Patrice’s face.
Careful Patty boy, your jealousy is showing. And its ugly.
“Is there something you need, Patrice?” asked Sophie, through a tight smile.
What Patrice needed was to fuck right off. Most other days she could handle his self-important presence, but today was not one of them. Patrice wasn’t family; he was only invited because he’d worked for François for a few years. His official title was atelier manager, but most of his time was spent schmoozing and dining with the fashion elite of Paris. Occasionally he brought in one or two new clients, and that seemed to be enough for him to remain at the House of Royal.
In truth it was Sophie who did the lion’s share of the work at managing the atelier. And while her father might refuse to see the reality of things, Patrice had to know how much she did. Not that his inflated ego would ever allow him to admit such a thing.
Her ex seemed determined to linger in her life. To stop her from moving on.
“Yes. There is something I need, Sophie. I wanted to speak to you about the garments for Haute Couture Week. That’s of course if you consider them important,” replied Patrice.
“It’s my sister’s wedding. Can’t this wait?” replied Sophie, doing her best to ignore the irritation swirling in her belly.
Patrice, as per usual, didn’t take the hint. He stepped closer. “No it can’t wait. The atelier’s been closed all week. I need to come back to one of our biggest clients tonight with an update on her order. But rest assured it won’t take long. You and your …” He looked Liam slowly up and down. “… guest, can get back to feeding your faces as soon as we are finished.”
She should say no. Should tell Patrice that he didn’t rule her life. The days of her being at his beck and call were well and truly over. But they’d played this scene out far too many times before tonight. She couldn’t imagine it would end any differently.
If she didn’t do as asked, Patrice would be in her father’s ear telling François that his spoiled, indulged daughter didn’t care about the family business. And then her father would want a word with her. She would get the same stern lecture from him that he’d been giving Sophie for the past twenty odd years. Loyalty to him and his creative vision was all that mattered.
It was easier to bend. She feared if she didn’t, she’d run the risk of breaking, and never fully healing. “Liam, would you please excuse me for a moment. I need to speak to Patrice.”
He gave a nod. “Of course. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
She followed Patrice out of the ballroom. He headed straight for the outside balcony. Grabbing a hold of his jacket sleeve, she pulled him back.
“This gown is silk. And the back is open. I’ll freeze outside.”
Patrice glanced at Sophie’s gown then said. “It is cold out there.” She took heart from knowing he was a demanding pig, but he wasn’t a complete villain.
“Alright, let’s go in here,” he said, pointing to the small ante room which ran off the main ballroom. It was with a good deal of reluctance that Sophie did as he asked.
She took one look at the black leather couch which sat along the right hand wall, and immediately decided against sitting on it. Patrice was in one of his moods. Which meant he’d love nothing more than being able to tower over Sophie.
Her suspicions were quickly confirmed. The second they got inside, and the door was closed, her ex started in on her. “What is it with you Royal girls and Americans?”
