Chapter 13

13

RUE CAMBON, PARIS, AUGUST 1937

Evelina tucked the champagne glass close to her body as she admired the bold design, her bold design , on the mannequin wearing her dress. It was the very first time she’d shown a collection, the doors to the apartment firmly shut to ensure that only invited guests could see what was on display. The shimmering silk and intricate buttons of each dress were being studied and admired by those gathered, and she couldn’t help but smile when she overheard one of the men describe her dresses as breathtaking. She’d wondered if she’d ever be able to step out from the shadow of her husband, but if tonight was an indication of her future success…she breathed deeply, a smile touching her lips again as she sipped her champagne. Ex-husband . Sometimes she couldn’t help but think of him, but Théo was firmly in her past now. She’d received their divorce papers almost one year ago, and even though he’d screamed at her that she’d never succeed without him, now it was he who was struggling to keep the doors to his fashion empire open. She hadn’t wanted him not to succeed, but if it had to be a competition between the two of them, then so be it.

She looked around, reminding herself of just how far she’d come, of the odds she’d overcome to succeed on her own. The entire evening was almost impossible to believe: the culmination of months of work and a little luck, but it had been worthy of every sacrifice. There had been times she’d wondered if she could truly make a name for herself—whether someone like her would ever be accepted, especially with Théo’s words echoing in her mind, haunting her—but tonight, she wholeheartedly, finally , felt as if she belonged.

Evelina slipped from the room and disappeared onto the narrow balcony, lighting a cigarette and taking a moment to stare out at the skyline. She never took the beauty of Paris for granted, and on a night such as this, she wanted to reflect on the years it had taken to get to this moment.

As Evelina lifted her cigarette and placed it between her lips, she felt a gentle pressure at the small of her back. She turned, surprised that anyone present would touch her so intimately, and through a haze of smoke she met the eyes of a man she’d noticed inside earlier, his dark blond hair neatly combed, and his eyes a vivid blue. When he smiled, she found she couldn’t look away.

‘Evelina Lavigne,’ he said, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’

She smiled and lowered her cigarette, immediately interested in the handsome man commanding her attention. She’d politely ignored the advances of any man since leaving Théo, but something about this particular gentleman made her stand a little straighter. ‘Thank you for coming tonight. You are?—’

‘Antoine Renaud,’ he said, as Evelina transferred her cigarette into the same hand holding her glass so she could extend her gloved fingers to him, watching as his lips brushed gently over the velvet. ‘I manage my family’s department store on the Boulevard Haussmann.’

Evelina’s eyes widened, her curiosity well and truly piqued. She knew precisely which store he was talking about, for who would not? Les Galeries Renaud was one of the oldest and most prestigious department stores in all of France, not to mention the only proper department store in Paris. An order from a company like Antoine’s would mean that women everywhere would know her name and wear her clothes; and if she wasn’t mistaken, his family was one of the wealthiest in the city, too.

‘Well, thank you for taking the time to come tonight and view my designs,’ she said, hoping her smile was as coquettish as she intended it to be. She wished they were inside so that everyone in the room could see whom she was talking to—if Antoine was interested in stocking her designs in his store, then it would surely make them covet her collection all the more. ‘I hope you like what you see on display?’

‘Your designs are unusually bold, and I think women will love how playful and feminine your dresses are,’ Antoine said, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘I’d very much like to hear more about your inspiration though, before we discuss which designs I might be interested in.’

He held her gaze, waiting for her to answer, and she took a small step back and raised her eyebrows, a smile creasing her lips. She found that she very much liked basking in the attention of a man like Antoine, even if she did feel as if he were playing a game with her, as if he were teasing her for his own pleasure. She kept their eye contact. Two can play at this game .

‘Before you decide which of my pieces to buy ?’ she asked.

‘Perhaps,’ he replied, folding his arms as he appeared to consider her. She had the distinct feeling that he liked the way she stood her ground, if his smile was anything to go by. ‘Shall we discuss it over a drink? Or two? I think I’d very much like to know more about the designer who has appeared from nowhere in Paris, and has somehow commanded the attention of the fashion world so thoroughly.’

‘You exaggerate,’ Evelina said, laughing and shaking her head as she stepped past him to go back inside. Of course he wanted to have a drink . His flattery didn’t surprise her—he was no different to any of the other men she’d met since arriving in Paris who flirted with her so shamelessly—only he had no idea that she was unlike any woman he’d met before. Or perhaps he did. But just as she was about to step through the door, eager for him to glimpse the low back of her evening dress and the way it skimmed her curves, Antoine caught her hand, moving closer as he whispered into her ear. He was so close she imagined he would be able to smell the vanilla-scented perfume she’d dabbed to the base of her collarbone, his fingers intimately catching hers.

‘Evelina, you could become one of the most famous designers France has ever seen,’ he murmured. ‘Let me be the one to help you realise your potential.’

Her breath caught in her throat as his thumb brushed her wrist, as he lowered his eyes ever so slightly before lifting them and catching hers again. He was incredibly magnetic, the type of man she’d always imagined at her side, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to have someone with his influence championing her designs in the city she’d fallen in love with. Perhaps he wasn’t like the other men she’d met before, after all. She’d fallen for the wrong man once, one who’d whispered promises in her ear until she’d finally agreed to marry him, but she wasn’t so bitter that she believed all men made promises they had no intention of fulfilling.

‘A drink?’ he asked again, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Once everyone has gone?’ She hesitated.

‘I have a feeling that no one has seen the depth of your potential before, Evelina, and I want to know everything there is to know about you.’ He smiled, and she loved the way he stared into her eyes instead of dropping his gaze to her body as most men would. ‘I promise that if after one drink you want me to leave, I will.’

Evelina pressed her lips together as he slowly let go of her, nodding before turning on her heel. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and when she glanced back over her shoulder and saw that he was still watching her, she flashed him one last smile.

She only wished she hadn’t seen the unmistakable glint of a wedding ring on his finger as she did so.

Perhaps all men are the same, after all.

She left Antoine, refusing to look back, and instead making her way around the room to greet everyone and press kisses to cheeks. She greeted each person with a warmth that had them feeling as if they were old friends, determined to make an impression on them. As with all the showings in Paris, the doors were firmly closed to ensure only those invited would be able to see her designs. She probably wasn’t well-known enough for anyone to copy her samples, but other fashion houses had had their designs stolen and then replicated in America and London, with cheaper versions being made almost immediately, before the couture versions were even available. She’d tried to create the illusion of exclusivity, and if she was honest, it had taken almost every franc she had left to put the evening on.

Evelina had enough money left to pay her rent for a few more months, but after that, if she didn’t sell what she had on display tonight and receive orders for the coming season…She swallowed away her discomfort, not wanting to think about what could happen, about where she could end up. She certainly wasn’t going home with her tail between her legs after all these years. She’d written to tell her parents of her wedding to Théo, to remind her sisters that should they ever want to see her in Paris, she would very much welcome them with open arms. As far as they knew, she was still married and living in a gorgeous apartment overlooking the Place Dauphine, although she knew that if they were going to come, either to visit or to escape home, as she had, they would have already written to her by now.

But as she looked around the room, at the men speaking in hushed tones, smiling and nodding in her direction, sipping champagne as they touched fabric and skimmed hands down sleeves and across zips to inspect her work, she refused to believe that the night could be anything other than a success. If not, they were all doing a fine job of pretending to be impressed.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, turning and facing the crowd, hoping her smile was as dazzling as it felt. She discarded her glass and gestured to the mannequins around her. ‘This collection is for the woman who wants men to stop and turn, for the woman who wants to celebrate her femininity. It’s for the woman who wants to be bold, who wants a dress to wear for every occasion.’ Evelina paused, doing a little spin in the dress she’d chosen to wear, showing off the silk velvet that clung to her hips and shimmied down her legs. ‘These dresses are for every woman,’ she said with a smile.

A ripple of applause rose from everyone gathered, and she stood until the chatter in the room began again, her breath coming in little pants as she went to speak to a buyer who was waving her over. As she began to walk, someone caught her eye, standing near the door, his glass raised as if in a silent toast. Antoine .

And in that moment, she didn’t know whether she wanted to hide from him or run straight into his arms.

An hour later, Evelina found herself alone in an apartment full of dresses and one very intriguing man. Antoine had waited patiently until she’d spoken to every last person, relaxed as he sat, legs stretched out as if he owned the place, on a chair near the back of the room. But now that they were alone, he’d taken it upon himself to open a fresh bottle of champagne, and as she watched he filled two glasses before holding one out to her. It was the last bottle left, and most likely the last bottle she would be able to afford to buy until she sold something.

She took a few steps closer and took the glass, careful to have only a small sip after they gently clinked glasses. She’d drunk a small amount throughout the night, but she’d been careful with how much she consumed, wanting to be as professional as possible. But now, she was ready to relax, content with how the night had ended. It’s time to let my hair down .

‘To the most unexpected of evenings,’ Antoine said, shamelessly holding eye contact for much longer than was polite.

‘In what way was it unexpected?’ Evelina asked, feeling rather forward herself. Ever since her ex-husband had called her a little country mouse, she’d been determined to never let anyone say or think that of her ever again. And so, even in the company of a man like Antoine, she had every intention of speaking her mind and at least acting as if she were both accomplished and confident.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘not only did I discover a talented new designer to stock in my store, but I also happened to meet a young woman who I find completely fascinating.’

Evelina laughed. She couldn’t help it, not when he was trying so overtly to impress her. ‘You don’t have to flatter me.’

‘To the contrary, you’re one of the rare women I actually want to flatter,’ he replied with a quick smile. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you before.’

She decided to put some space between them, suddenly unsure whether she wanted to blur the boundaries of what could become a professional relationship with anything personal. But by agreeing to a drink, had she already done so? Antoine gave her a moment, as if sensing her indecision, and she walked to the balcony and stepped outside. It was only a small space, but the air immediately refreshed her, the view of the city she loved, lights twinkling at night, always enough to clear her mind. Just breathe. He might be the son of the family who owns one of the biggest shops in the city, but he is only a man. A man who is very interested in my attention, and who appears to be prepared to do anything to impress me .

‘Would you care for a cigarette?’

Antoine’s voice was deep and raspy, as if he’d already smoked enough cigarettes for both of them, and she found herself nodding as he came up behind her. He placed his glass down on the little wrought iron table on the balcony, before passing her a cigarette and leaning in close to light it. She stared at his long, tapered fingers—fingers her mother would have said belonged to a pianist—before taking a slow inhale and turning her head ever so slightly to blow the smoke away from him. She didn’t need to be distracted by thoughts of the past, and she certainly wasn’t going to start thinking about her mother, not when she was so close to achieving her dreams.

He lit himself a cigarette as she watched, before picking up his glass again, angling his body slightly away from hers and staring out at the view she’d been admiring.

‘When you look from up here, you can see why Paris is called the city of lights,’ he said. ‘You can stare at it a hundred times or more, and never tire of the view.’

‘I grew up in the country,’ Evelina said, taking the cigarette from between her lips and holding it between her fingers. ‘At night, it was pitch-black, so dark that you couldn’t see anything except by moonlight. So this view? It will never be lost on me. I intend on admiring it for the rest of my life.’

‘You’re not from Paris? I would never have guessed.’

Evelina glanced over at him, flattered that he thought her a native Parisian. When she’d first arrived in the city, she wouldn’t have admitted where she came from to anyone, but tonight, she wasn’t afraid of the truth. Antoine was acting as though he wanted to know her darkest secrets, and she found herself more than willing to oblige.

‘Paris was the city of my dreams, and it still is,’ she said. ‘Thinking back to where I came from? It’s like reading a story and being familiar with the characters, but not believing it is my own. I can barely remember not living here, not anymore.’

He nodded. ‘I have heard that your husband has recently closed the doors to his fashion house.’

‘Ahh,’ Evelina said, ‘so that’s why you came tonight. You know my former husband.’ She shook her head, feeling foolish for being so naive. ‘I should have guessed.’

But Antoine merely frowned, his eyebrows drawn closely together, as if he couldn’t understand why she was suddenly cross. ‘I once stocked his clothes in my store, and I’d heard your name mentioned. That’s why I came tonight,’ Antoine said, before his lips twisted into a smile. ‘In fact, I thought some of his more recent collections were truly inspirational. Remind me again exactly when you moved to Paris and met Théo?’

This time she smiled back. Her lips tilted up at the sides as she sipped her champagne, taking her time before replying. So he knows . She’d wondered when someone would realise that he’d been using her designs, that there was a reason Théo’s most recent collections had been more feminine and more modern.

Antoine moved slightly closer. ‘When I looked at the beautiful dresses on display tonight, there was a familiarity to the careful tailoring and feminine silhouettes. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d seen your work before.’

‘What exactly are you saying, Antoine?’ she asked, happy to play his little game.

‘I think we both know what I’m saying, Evelina,’ he said, his voice even raspier as he discarded his cigarette and took a step closer to her, and then another, until he was so close that all she would have to do was raise her hand and she’d be able to touch the lapel of his jacket. Her fingers ached to lift themselves from her sides to do so. ‘Someone has been taking credit for your beautiful designs, but it’s only going to be so long before I’m not the only one putting two and two together.’

‘Perhaps,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper as his gaze dropped to her lips, making her wonder if he was about to try to kiss her, or if he was only toying with her. ‘But he is no longer my husband, and I never intend on letting anyone else?—’

‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’

She swallowed and lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes now. Evelina wasn’t entirely certain what he was trying to say.

‘That he is no longer your husband,’ Antoine said, reaching out and touching a loose strand of her hair. ‘In case that part wasn’t clear.’

‘He promised me he’d ensure that every door in Paris was closed in my face if I told anyone,’ she said, as Antoine’s hand fell away. They were words she’d never uttered out loud, held so close to her heart that she’d been afraid to even imagine they might come true, words that had fuelled her determination to succeed and that echoed in her mind at every turn, but tonight, she’d shared them with a stranger. Because there was something about Antoine that made her want to be honest with him.

‘Evelina, he is no longer in a position to dictate such a thing. The name on everyone’s lips, come tomorrow, will be yours.’

She looked up at him, not sure how to respond. What, precisely, was he trying to tell her?

‘Because…’ she began, hoping he’d finish her sentence for her, feeling oddly vulnerable as she realised how much this one man could change her life, could make her dreams come true overnight.

‘Because I’m going to place an order that will ensure every fashionable woman in Paris hears your name and covets your dresses, and then I will tell everyone in the fashion world about my new protégé.’ He smiled as he drained his drink. ‘This is just the beginning, chérie, I promise. If you’ll let me be the one to introduce you to the heart of fashion, that is?’

Evelina had heard a man promise her the earth before, only to forget all about it the following day. But something about Antoine told her that he wasn’t the kind of man who’d forget, or would want to forget. If he liked her designs as much as he said he did, then he had everything to gain from buying her collection—he could stand to make a small fortune from her. And she wasn’t so naive that she didn’t understand how the world worked; without an influential man in her corner, it would be almost impossible to succeed.

She forced herself to take a long, slow breath and lower her shoulders, not wanting him to think she was anything other than relaxed. She certainly didn’t want to appear surprised.

‘You will place an order and sign a contract in the morning?’ Evelina asked.

He nodded and reached for her champagne glass, placing it on the table beside her.

‘I will. I will take the entire collection that you’ve presented tonight, and if they sell well, then perhaps we can come to an exclusive arrangement,’ Antoine replied. ‘But tonight is not the time for business. Tonight is a time for pleasure.’

He lifted his hand and gently cupped her face, his palm to her cheek, staring into her eyes for a long moment, as if giving her the chance to say no. She breathed slowly in and out, feeling his skin against hers, her mind racing as she considered what this would mean for her. Yet despite her better judgement, despite knowing that she should have resisted, Evelina leaned into him, melting into his arms as Antoine’s lips touched hers in a kiss so soft, so gentle, that she found herself taking a handful of his jacket and pulling him back for more.

It’s only a kiss . She wouldn’t let it go any further; they’d both been drinking and he had a wife to return home to, after all. But it had been so long since she’d been kissed so passionately by a man, and never by a man as charismatic and intriguing as Antoine.

‘Antoine, you’re married,’ she finally murmured, pulling back slightly as she caught her breath.

‘Ma chère,’ he whispered, his eyes full of longing and vulnerability, ‘what kind of man do you think I am, that I would hurt my wife? It’s merely a marriage of convenience, for the sake of business,’ he said.

‘But—’

‘Evelina, you have nothing to worry about,’ he whispered. ‘My wife has her life, and I have mine. If it was anything more than a marriage in name only, I wouldn’t be here with you.’

She should have pushed him away, but the way his skin glided against hers and the sound of his deep voice were proving impossible to resist.

She melted into his arms, pressed to his chest as their kiss deepened, as the noise of the city surrounded them, lights twinkling below.

‘I have a feeling I’ll never be able to get enough of you,’ Antoine whispered against her skin as he held her close, as his mouth moved down her neck, his lips featherlight as they traced her collarbone.