Page 73 of All the Gossip from Paris
“And if I refuse?”
She calmly met his gaze. Patrice had to know he held no more cards. If he didn’t fold, she’d have no other option than to get on a plane to Lausanne and go see François.
You might be a pain, but I don’t want that for either of us.
“Please don’t put me in that position, Patrice. Let’s get this show sorted, and allow Papa to heal in peace.”
Slipping his hands from his pockets, he stalked toward her. “And what else? I sense there is something more. There always is with you Sophie.”
He knew her only too well. She did have more.
“Liam will take over the photography work for the collection lookbook and the show itself. I may also ask Camille and Ryan to step in and help. All of these decisions are not up for negotiation.”
“But we have the photographer we normally use already lined up.”
Sophie curled her toes up in her boots at hearing this remark. She’d long wanted to get rid of Patrice’s buddy. The guy did an ok enough job, but he wasn’t in the same league as Liam Collins.
“Thank him. Then tell him we have decided to move in a new direction.”
Patrice opened his mouth as if to speak, but Sophie held up a hand. She was done. This deal was done. If he didn’t want a part of it, she would find her own way to make it work.
“Take the rest of the day off, Patrice. Go home. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
As she turned and walked away, Sophie took a moment to fully embrace her new power. This was what her father and Patrice had been gatekeeping from her all these years. But not anymore.
Now she had to go find Liam and tell him that there’d been a major change of plans. Instead of being pushed to the sidelines, he was going to be the photographer for the House of Royal Haute Couture Week collection.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Grand Ballroom
Two weeks later
“Now we will have guests seated either side of the runway.” Sophie stopped and checked her iPad. “At the moment we have two hundred and seventy five confirmed seated guests. Including the two that Patrice added this morning.”
While he’d taken a step back from the runway show, Patrice was still heavily involved in the overall organization of the event. As chief client liaison it was his role to identify potential clients, and then gift them one of the highly coveted seats at the event.
The runway show would also be live streamed as part of Haute Couture Week. Due to the limited number of seats the general public were not able to get tickets.
The runway show itself would take place at the Petit Palais in central Paris, but rehearsals were being held in the grand ballroom at the chateau. The mannequins had been moved to one side and chairs now lined the length of the room.
Sophie dropped onto the nearest chair, and let out a tired sigh. No matter how many of these shows she’d helped to create, she always underestimated how exhausting it was to bring the entire collection together. And with François being absent she was having to pick up a lot of his work.
“Does Patrice know the maximum number of guests he can invite?” asked Liam.
“Yes, no more than three hundred seated. The Petit Palais is an amazing exhibition space. All that stunning pink marble and soaring arches. But it’s really limited in how many people it can hold. Invitations to sit and watch the show are highly prized.” She set the iPad on her lap. “Which is exactly why Papa books the Petit Palais whenever he can. The fewer guests. The more exclusive the show.”
“Economics 101. Create demand by keeping supply limited,” said Liam.
She grinned at him. “That’s the whole business model of the couture world. Design things which are fantastically detailed, then have skilled artisans create them using exquisite materials. It means that only a tiny fraction of the world’s population can ever afford to buy them.”
They’d been at this for endless hours, carefully moving mannequins back and forth as they worked to decide how the runway show should look. Camille and Ryan, who had returned from Switzerland earlier in the week, had helped during the day, but had finally cried off just before midnight.
It was nearing three in the morning, and Sophie had officially passed the too tired to sleep stage. If she went to bed now, she wouldn’t get much rest.
She’d put on some music a little while ago to try and relax. The sweeping strains of Bitter Sweet Symphony by the Verve was playing through the ballroom’s Bluetooth speakers.
“What do you think about moving the white blouse up the order and putting it behind the blazer?” she asked.
