Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“That’s admirable,” I admit, “but I’m happy to listen. I’m here for you.”
I don’t argue about her feelings about her collection. They’re her own, and it’s not my place to tell her the pieces were lovely and romantic, an understated and elegant interpretation of the seduction theme.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “There was a woman at the cocktail hour who called Jeanette ‘gros’ and I nearly swatted her gross, dead cat looking hat off her head. I mean, seriously?”
She’s gaining momentum and strength, nearly ranting as she tells me about the woman who insulted her designs and Jeanette in one fell swoop. There’s something about American biscuits, but I don’t get the chance to ask what those are as Autumn’s tirade continues.
“She sounds dreadful,” I agree, “and completely wrong, of course.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Things are changing, or they need to. And I’m not going to design based on some Old Cat Lady’s opinion when she thinks taxidermy chic is fashion.”
I nearly choke on my spit as I laugh. “Sounds like you’re done evaluating. I, for one, support no taxidermy in fashion.”
Autumn laughs. “Oh, my God! Right?”
Now that she’s in a lighter mood, I hesitate to tell her about what else happened at the cocktail hour. But she needs to know.
“Jacqueline talked to me after the show. She told me, and I quote, ‘I forbid you from seeing Autumn.’” I say it as fast as I can, hoping that somehow, we can glaze over it without too much drama.
No luck . . .
“She what? I mean, she got all bossy with me, but I can see where she thinks she has the right. But with you? How’d she think that would go?”
I guess Autumn wasn’t completely over her feistiness. I rather like her this way, though, giving me a glimpse into the woman who left home against her mother’s wishes to chase a dream, made a life for herself in a new city that intimidates even the strong, and used her passport for the first time to come to Paris for a competition with one of the most renowned fashion houses in the industry. She’s a vision, even if I can’t see her.
Actually . . .
I push a button on my phone, requesting to change our phone call to a FaceTime call.
“Oh! What are you up to?”
I hear her smile before I see it, but then she’s in front of me on the small screen of my phone. “Hello.”
My voice has gone deep and husky at seeing her. Her eyes are bright, but whatever makeup she was wearing tonight has been smudged, giving her a smoky effect. Thankfully, it doesn’t look as though she’s been crying. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from going to her if that were the case.
“Hi,” she answers, a bit breathless. “So, what did you tell her?”
I’d forgotten what she asked me, but the question jogs my memory. Jacqueline’s decree. “Essentially, that she hadn’t taken an interest in my social life before and we should continue that way.”
Her laugh surprises me. Her eyes wide, she searches my face through the screen. “Are you serious? You told Jacqueline to keep her nose out of your business? The Jacqueline Corbin?”
“Well, when you say it like that . . .” I shrug casually but grin at the amusement in her voice. “I did manage to stay mum about what her previous warning led to.”
The reminder is intentional, a distraction from Jacqueline and from the processing Autumn is still doing about the show.
She taps her chin, teasing me. “I forget . . . what happened after that?”
I growl, bringing the phone closer so she can only see my face. “We went on an adventure that ended up with your ass pink, your pussy wet, and both of us exhausted and satisfied.”
“Riiiight,” she drawls out. “I do recall there was a little something like that.” She’s provoking me on purpose, reveling in it.
“Take your shirt off for me.” The command is full of heat and sex, and I see Autumn catch her breath, enthralled.
Before her hands can move to her shirt, she freezes and goes serious on me. “Is this . . . I mean, am I . . . a way to get back at her? At Jacqueline? Your aunt?”
She stutters the questions out as though the thought hasn’t fully formed in her mind yet, but she still needs to know.
“Of course not. Non, non!” I’m shocked, but her concerns aren’t unreasonable. They’re just not the case . . . at all. “Granted, I am defying my aunt, and she could toss me out on my ass. In theory, at least. But that only shows that I am putting myself at risk as well. Like you . . . with the competition.”
“Oh,” Autumn replies. “So we both have something to lose?”