Sophie swallowed. ‘You know him?’
Zara shook her head. ‘I knowofhim. Who doesn’t?’
‘Everybody’s heard of him.’ Raven sounded stunned.
‘He does the most amazing wedding photography in like… forever.’ Zara turned to her bridesmaids. ‘Notrealweddings. At least, I don’t think they are. He probably uses models to do that dystopian thing with stuff like the bride and groom standing in a nuclear wasteland looking like zombies and they reckon he invented that whole new “drown the dress” trend. He’s even set fire to a wedding dress – while the bride was stillwearingit.’
Sophie bit her lip. ‘We don’t have to use him,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I’ve got any number of photographers I can contact. Someone will be available at short notice.’
But Zara didn’t seem to be listening.
‘Oh. My. God…’ The bride-to-be had her phone in her hands, her thumbs moving impressively fast. ‘I’ve gotta tell Joe. This ishuge… I’ve never even heard of The Phoenix going anywherenearreal weddings.’ Her jaw dropped. ‘Maybe I’m going to be firstrealbride he’s ever photographed.’
Sophie could believe that. She wouldn’t have had any idea, either, but then she wouldn’twanthim near any of her weddings. She had her doubts that he would be capable of taking any of the kind of wedding photographs that everybody wanted in their albums, like romantic poses around tree branches, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. For heaven’s sake, the mysterious Phoenix was famous for pushing the boundaries of conventional wedding photography into something so different it could be described as shock art. Sophie had seen the images online. Who hadn’t? She’d dismissed them as more confrontational than edgy or compelling, though. As though the person taking the shots was some kind of cynic who didn’t believe in the concept of marriage. Might hate it, even? Not to her taste at all.
How on earth did Greg even know the man? This was a looming disaster. Zara was probably just as horrified as she was.
‘I’ll get someone else,’ Sophie promised. She’d find Tilly and get her to help with the phone calls. Alain, their drone operator, was very likely to have a good quality camera or two amongst his gear. Worst-case scenario, they could still get all the traditional stills by lifting them from André’s videos.
Raven was staring at her. ‘Why would you pass up an offer to work with someone like Le Phénix? The guy’s a living legend.’
There was no doubt that Zara was looking horrified now.
‘Don’t youdareget someone else,’ she snapped at Sophie. ‘If you do, I’ll make sure that you never get another client again.Ever. This…’ She reached for her champagne flute and clearly drained vintage Dom Pérignon from her glass without even tasting it. ‘This is…mega,’ she announced. ‘Straight upmassive. Guaranteed, 100 per cent, to go viral.’
Zara was definitely looking happy. Thrilled, even. Maybe this unexpected twist could turn out to be a blessing in disguise for everyone – including Sophie. That star-struck look that Raven couldn’t hide might mean he’d just lost interest in anything to do with her tragic past history, which was absolutely a bonus but, while it had been framed jokingly, Zara’s threat to eliminate any future bookings had felt a little too real. Any business could be damaged by bad reviews online. Getting dumped on by someone with eight million followers could probably annihilate hers in one fell swoop.
The young women were chattering as Sophie left them to finish their breakfast and move on to the serious business of formal wedding make-up, nails and hair appointments. Teams of salon experts would have completed setting up in the dedicated suite next door by now.
‘No one knows his real name. He just goes by Phoenix.’
‘Phénix,’ someone else corrected in an exaggerated accent. They were all scrolling on their phones now. ‘’E is French andsosexy. That Hozier vibe with the long hair and that black hat and sunglasses. Oh, my…’
‘He’s got nearly as many followers as you, Zara.’
‘Wow… Look at this. Is that wedding dressreallyon fire or is itAI?’
‘I don’t care,’ Zara said. ‘As long asIget a photo like that that goes viral.’
Sophie’s phone pinged several times in succession as she left the room and she found the alerts were for the first Instagram posts for ‘#Zara’sBigDay’.
There was a shot of the grazing table with the pretty sprigs of lavender and tiny bunches of grapes between the platters. There were hands holding up champagne flutes to touch in a circle, the bubbles from the wine creating a faint mist above the rims.
The caption ran:
The day has begun…
And then there was the shot that Sophie had seen Raven taking, of Zara with her eyes closed and croissant flakes on her lips.
What could be more delicious than the perfect wedding breakfast and champagne?
The last image was Zara, with her robe slipping to reveal a bare shoulder, her mouth and nose hidden behind the hand she had cupped beside a bridesmaid’s ear. Through a few perfectly tousled curls, she was looking sideways over her fingers, directly into the camera.
Shh… It’s a secret… Can’t tell you yet but I’m sooo excited…
Sophie almost ran down the sweeping staircase. She needed to find Tilly and tell her not only that Greg was alarmingly physically ill but that it seemed to have affected his common sense. The success of this day might now depend on whether this surrogate photographer actually turned up and – if he did – it might still be a disaster because he was highly likely to take photographs that would make conventional wedding photographers throw up their hands in horror and it would do untold damage to the reputation of Marry Me in Provence.
* * *
