“There’s no ring.” Sylvie looks over to me, still holding Paige’s left hand in hers. “Raphaël. Come now.”
She’s always had a flair for the dramatic. So many of the head designers I deal with on a day-to-day basis do. I give them as much freedom as possible. The best creations rarely happen when they feel pressured.
“Oh, I do. I just took it off, to get resized,” Paige says.
I nod back to the villa. “We have a jeweler visiting today from Switzerland, and Paige just picked out her ring.”
“Very good.” Sylvie’s eyes remain on Paige, and she sees far too much. I hadn’t counted on one of my most important business relations turning up before noon.
Unannounced.
“This girl deserves a nice ring, yes? Two, three, even four, maybe. You look like you’d suit gold,” she tells Paige. “I hope you didn’t choose a small ring,chérie. I hate modesty, and you’re too pretty for it.”
That makes me chuckle. Paige’s eyes flash to mine, and then back to Sylvie. “Well, I’m leaning toward something medium-sized. The ring I chose is a sapphire.”
“Medium. Yes. That might do.” Sylvie releases Paige’s hands. “Rafe just told me that you two are deeply in love.”
I said no such thing.
But Paige laughs like it’s a joke and looks up at me with a sparkle in her eyes. They’re deep brown, I realize. Chocolate-colored. It’s a contrast against the golden-wheat color of her hair.
Paige opens her mouth, but I reach over and take her hand to shut her up. I lace our fingers together. Her palm is warm and dry against mine, and she blinks up at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Here’s hoping Sylvie sees that as adoration.
“It was quick,” I admit to them both. “Paige is helping me be more… spontaneous.”
“Love can do that,” Sylvie says. “My wife made me try jetskiing last week in Cannes. It was horrible and I’m never doing it again. You’ll meet her,” she tells Paige. “Soon. Because I want the full story of how you two met. Every single detail, okay?”
Paige nods, and I can tell she’s a bit dazed. It’s hard not to be the first time one meets Sylvie Li.
“Everydetail, Sylvie?” I ask with a smile.
“Don’t be a prude. It doesn’t suit you.” She bends to run a hand along the back of her dappled greyhound. The dog has been standing still in the breeze, barely acknowledging our existence, a complete contrast from the barking from earlier. Colette, maybe. Or is it Clarice?
“Tomorrow night,” Sylvie says. “Come to mine for dinner across the lake. My wife will be back, and I’m having some guests over.” She lowers her sunglasses. “I have more questions, and there will be drinks,” she says, like that’s all the incentive we need.
My hand tightens around Paige’s. “We’d be delighted to.”
“I have questions, too,” Paige says. “You’re a legend.”
“And you’re just as much of a flatterer as your new husband,” Sylvie says, and opens the door to her Ferrari to let the dogs back in. “But I’m finding it more charming coming from you,chérie. That’s a good start.”
CHAPTER 7
PAIGE
I try not to spiral about the fact that Sylvie freaking Li just showed up unannounced to chat with Rafe. I knew about his history. The king of luxury. He rules Maison Valmont like a feudal lord and has more legacy brands and fashion houses than any other conglomerate.
I know that his word is law and that he calls the shots. Buying brands and tearing them down, reforming them, expanding profit margins. That in the world of luxury consumption, he’s the unseen force behind it all.
Iknew, but seeing an icon standing on the courtyard made it all feel so deliriously real.
My work in the fashion industry has always been peripheral. Working in PR for Mather & Wilde in Massachusetts is far from the catwalks of Paris and Milan.
But Sylvie Li is straight from that world.
My newhusbandis straight from that world. When he attends a fashion show, it’s written about. Not in a gossipy, celebrity kind of way. But inThe Financial Tribunekind of way. It affects stock prices.
