Chapter 15

15

PARIS, 1938

Eleven months after meeting Antoine, Evelina twirled around an apartment overlooking the Eiffel Tower and the Seine, her eyes wide as she took it all in. ‘This is all for me?’

She looked at the large living area, a cream sofa and ornate glass coffee table in the middle, placed on a rug so thick that she immediately wanted to take off her shoes to see how luxurious it felt beneath her toes. Her house with Théo had been glamorous, but this place had been furnished with an eye for design, as opulent as any residence she’d ever set foot in, as if it had been made for her.

‘Yes, Evelina, it’s all for you,’ Antoine said, dropping the keys onto the dining table and coming to her with open arms. ‘Only the best for the most beautiful woman in Paris. I told you I’d find the perfect place for you, didn’t I? Every little thing in this apartment I sourced myself. I have spent weeks furnishing it for you to make sure it was exactly right.’

She went willingly to him, never able to get enough of his arms around her waist, his lips pressed to hers, fingers dancing against her skin. Since the night they’d met, they’d barely gone a handful of days without seeing each other, and despite thinking that he’d soon tire of having a mistress, it hadn’t been the case. If anything, he only seemed to become more enamoured with her, and the fact that he’d so lovingly created such a beautiful home for her made her love him all the more.

Antoine lavished her with gifts and attention, discreet in some ways, but overt in others. They were careful to steer clear of places his wife might frequent, but like many Frenchmen, he wasn’t trying terribly hard to keep his lover a secret. She’d expected to be uncomfortable about it, and for weeks had resisted falling into his bed, but in the end, she’d found it impossible not to give in to his advances. And when he’d told her repeatedly that his marriage was simply a formality, she’d decided that she needed to trust him. His marriage was no different than hers had been in the end—something formally binding her on paper to another and nothing more. And besides, they connected on so many levels; Antoine was like the other half of her soul, as if they’d waited their entire lives to meet each other. They laughed at all the same things, finished each other’s sentences, and when he wasn’t with her, she found herself wishing he was there.

‘There’s champagne in the kitchen,’ he told her, as he murmured against her skin. ‘I had a bottle delivered on ice so that we could celebrate.’

‘There are other ways we could celebrate, Antoine,’ she whispered back, standing on tiptoe as she nuzzled his neck.

For the very first time since their relationship had begun, Antoine gently shook his head and held her at arm’s length. ‘As much as I’d like that, we have a dinner to attend.’

She sighed. If it had been any other night, she might have feared that he was tiring of her, but given the apartment he’d just gifted her the keys to, she knew better than to pout. Antoine had given her everything she wanted, and she knew how important this dinner was—to both of them. He’d promised to introduce her to the most influential people in the fashion world, and she’d been planning what to wear and how to present herself all week. But still, their time together was limited and she didn’t like to waste a minute with him.

‘You’re certain we don’t have time?’ she asked, reaching out to take hold of his tie and trying to tug him closer, whispering a kiss to his jawline. ‘I haven’t seen you in days, after all.’

Antoine groaned, but didn’t move. ‘We are going to drink champagne to celebrate, go out for dinner, and then I will be yours. Remember how important tonight is, Evelina. We cannot be late.’

She nodded, taking a little step forward and leaning in to brush a slow kiss to his lips this time, before turning and going to find the champagne. Her life had changed dramatically since meeting Antoine. Now, her clothes were stocked exclusively in Les Galeries Renaud and made by a team of seamstresses that he’d employed on her behalf—he’d proven to be a man of his word—and she’d found herself receiving constant requests from other buyers that she’d so far had to turn down, given her exclusive business relationship with Antoine. There had even been a piece in Vogue Paris written about her, and for the first time, she’d seen her name printed beside Coco Chanel’s; they were apparently both heralding a new era in fashion, and it had felt like the single most important moment of her life. Even the growing rumours of war were doing nothing to quell the interest in her dresses, or stop women from buying so many of her designs that she was barely able to keep inventory available. The past year had truly been a dream come true, and it wasn’t showing any sign of slowing down.

And even better, Antoine shared her vision for her future, and he certainly didn’t seem intimidated by her dreams. If anything, he pushed her to dream even bigger; wasn’t afraid of her ambition like she knew most other men would be.

She returned with the champagne and found Antoine standing out on the small balcony, his hands on the wrought iron balustrade. It reminded her of their first night together, and she set the champagne bottle and glasses down on the coffee table to go up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into his back. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d whispered in her ear and changed the course of both their lives in one night. Now, it felt as if they’d already known each other a lifetime.

They stayed like that for a long moment, before he finally turned in her arms. She looked up at him and he gazed down at her, stroking his thumb gently across her face, his eyes almost impossible to read. Evelina could have stared into his vibrant blue eyes all night.

‘You seem sad,’ she eventually said.

‘I’m not sad,’ he replied. ‘More thoughtful, if anything.’

She waited, knowing he’d eventually tell her what was on his mind.

‘I was imagining living here with you,’ Antoine finally said, pulling her against him and turning them both so that she was facing the view. ‘Imagining what it would be like to come home to you every night. I suppose until now, it never seemed like a possibility, but knowing you’re here…’

She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. Evelina didn’t often let herself have those thoughts—he was a married man, and for appearance’s sake, his home was with his wife, but hearing him say it out loud…it was impossible for her not to wish that it could come true one day, too. Oftentimes she tried to tell herself that theirs was a perfect arrangement, but in truth, she knew that was only her trying to justify what time they spent together.

‘We work so well together like this,’ she forced herself to say, not wanting to shatter the illusion they’d so carefully built, or ruin his reputation. ‘The time we have together, it’s perfect. Wishing for more would only be dangerous.’ You would only have to ask the question though, Antoine, and I would be yours forever .

He tipped forward and pressed his cheek to hers. ‘Sometimes, when I’m with you…’

Antoine’s voice trailed off and she quickly turned, smiling brightly and reaching for the champagne. Now wasn’t the time to become melancholy; now was the time for them to drink, dine with his business associates and return to the apartment to make love once the evening was over. She wasn’t going to let herself get carried away with daydreams, not when they were so far from coming true. What they had, worked, and she was not going to question whether or not it could become anything more.

‘Champagne,’ she announced. ‘You know I’m dreadful at opening these bottles, darling. Would you do the honours?’

Antoine strode forward and took the bottle, expertly popping the cork on the Veuve Clicquot and pouring them each half a glass as they stood in the warm night air, a light breeze lifting the fine hairs on Evelina’s arms.

‘To our love nest on the Seine,’ he said.

‘To our love nest,’ she repeated, touching her glass to his before taking a long, slow sip. ‘I love it, truly I do. It’s perfect for me. For us.’

Antoine held her gaze as he sipped, before checking his wristwatch and insisting that they leave before it was too late. She told him she needed five minutes to powder her nose and collect her coat, and she hurried into the bedroom, knowing that he’d had her things sent over earlier in the day. She found all her clothes hanging, colour-coordinated, in the wardrobe, and when she walked into the bathroom she was greeted by the lingering scent of her favourite perfume—Chanel No. 5. She liked to think of it as a reminder of what she wanted to achieve one day, so she often sprayed her bedroom and bathroom with it, especially now that she was with Antoine. He loved the scent, too, and had a bottle sent to her every month to make sure she never ran out. What he didn’t know was that it was her dream to create her own perfume one day, to have women wearing not only her dresses but also her fragrance, too. For now, she was simply grateful that he’d remembered what she liked.

Evelina checked her reflection in the mirror, locating her red lipstick and applying it liberally after powdering her nose, spraying some more perfume to her decolletage, and then doing a little turn to ensure her black dress was hugging her curves in the way she intended. The sensual shapes of her designs were her trademark, and she’d taken to using zippers as much for decorative purposes as practical ones. Some of her jersey fabrics and silk velvets appeared incredibly sensual, given how soft they were to the touch. And she was wearing one of those dresses tonight. Her intention was for women to look and feel fabulous in her designs, suggestive in a way that wasn’t overt; immaculate in a way that it was impossible not to notice.

Confident in her reflection, Evelina found her most luxurious fur coat and took it from the clothes hanger, draping it over her shoulders and heading back out to the living room to where Antoine was waiting for her.

He was smoking a cigarette, but the moment she walked back out he discarded it and came towards her, holding out both hands. She had to admit that he looked incredible in his dark suit, his tie perfectly knotted and cufflinks glinting at his wrists.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said, as his eyes travelled the length of her body. ‘Ravenously beautiful, in fact. I’ll be beating all the other men away with a stick tonight.’

Evelina laughed. She’d never felt quite so attractive as she did when she was with Antoine, and he didn’t just use words either. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes followed her and traced her body when he thought she wasn’t looking; it all combined to make her feel like the most desirable woman in the room.

‘Enough with your flattery,’ she said, waving him away. ‘Didn’t you say that we’d be late for dinner if we didn’t leave now?’

‘Evelina,’ he began.

‘Yes?’

He stared at her for a long moment, as if there was something he wanted to say, only he couldn’t find the right words.

‘Everyone is going to love you,’ Antoine said at last, holding out his arm for her. ‘Just be yourself and they will never forget the night they met Evelina Lavigne. I promise.’

She placed her hand on his forearm and together they walked from the apartment, saying goodnight to the door man before disappearing out into the street and going on foot. The restaurant was so near, and she always enjoyed walking with her fingers looped around Antoine’s arm, her heels clacking on the pavement as she tucked herself to his side.

‘Antoine, do they know?’ she asked, as they neared the restaurant.

‘About us?’ he asked. ‘Romantically?’

She nodded.

‘I fear it will be obvious as soon as they see the way I look at you,’ Antoine said, taking her hand. ‘But no, they don’t know about us. They’ve been desperate to meet my infamous new designer, and I promised them that I’d be able to convince you to join us.’

Evelina laughed. Of course he had. ‘Well, you’d better stop holding my hand, in case anyone sees us.’

But instead of dropping her hand, Antoine only tightened his grip.

‘Perhaps I’m ready for them to meet you as my?—’

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for him to finish his sentence, but he never did.

‘I’m quite happy to be introduced as your business associate,’ she said, not wanting him to feel he had to say any more. ‘Although I can’t help it if they can tell how I feel about you.’

Antoine cleared his throat, his smile making his eyes crease ever so slightly at the sides. ‘Evelina, that’s not how I want to introduce you,’ he said, his voice dropping an octave.

‘And how exactly would you introduce me, if you could?’ she whispered.

‘As the woman that I’m totally, madly in love with.’

Evelina didn’t know what to say. She most definitely hadn’t been expecting that, and it also made her realise what she’d become to him. He was already married, so she would most likely never become his wife, no matter what he said, but he’d bought her an apartment and was taking her out in public, which meant that she was officially his mistress. Marriage hadn’t suited her, and she’d vowed never to marry again, but this? This arrangement was perfect for her. She had a man in her life who admired her work and couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, and she didn’t have to play the role of doting wife, instead getting to live her life largely on her own terms.

‘Antoine?’ she said, reaching up to touch his face. She gazed at him, into blue eyes that always seemed to follow her. ‘I love you, too.’ As the words left her mouth, she realised that it was the first time she’d truly meant them.

He kissed her, passionately, tugging her against him so that her breasts pressed into his chest.

‘Let’s not ever change what we have, Evelina,’ he whispered when he pulled away, his eyes searching hers. ‘This is everything I’ve ever wanted.’

‘I don’t want anything to change, either,’ she said, and it was mostly the truth. ‘This life, my new apartment, you…’ She smiled up at him. ‘It’s everything I could wish for, and more.’

They stayed together, wrapped in each other’s arms, until eventually Antoine cleared his throat and reminded her that they were going to be even later to dinner now if they didn’t go in, and Evelina took out the little mirror she always kept in her bag to check her make-up. She feared he’d smudged her lipstick, and she’d been right, and that was not the image she wanted to project.

When at last they stepped forward, she had her arm looped through Antoine’s, her head to his shoulder as they walked, her fur coat draped over her shoulders. Diamonds sparkled at her earlobes and around her neck, and she knew that it would be obvious to anyone who watched them, who saw the way they looked at each other, that they were lovers.

Within minutes, they were walking up the flight of stairs to the restaurant, and it was then that she dropped his hand. Evelina could feel eyes on her as she sashayed in beside her man, and she revelled in it. Not because they were looking at her, but because they were looking at her dress, she was certain of it. Which meant that by the end of the evening, everyone would be whispering and wondering who the designer of the dress was.

They approached a table full of men, all drinking what she presumed was whisky or cognac, but their conversation stopped immediately when they saw Antoine.

‘Well, you could have warned us,’ said one of the men, standing and holding out both hands to her, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to first one cheek and then the other. ‘Talented and beautiful—what a combination.’

Evelina smiled and squeezed his hands, before turning to another of the men who’d stood to greet her, his eyes going from her to Antoine, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

‘When you said we’d want to meet her…’

Antoine touched the small of her back, guiding her forward to her seat, and she couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly, it was as if she had everything she’d ever wanted, and she had a feeling that tonight was going to be one of the most glorious evenings of her life.