Chapter 8
Paris
Angelique Delavigne
“Hey, Mom, I didn’t think you’d be awake.”
“Angie.” Angelique could tell she was trying to stifle a yawn, even though it was just a phone call.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up. We just finished our first show. We have runaway rehearsals in thirty minutes and I am exhausted. I am tempted to go back to the hotel and pass out.”
Angelique was sitting in the back room for makeup and hair; it still felt surreal to be in Paris. She had not been able to go sightseeing because working for both Ixora and Gisele’s Couture had made her schedule for the week a tight one, but the models had been given an extra day to tour Paris before flying back to New York.
“Have you met any prominent designers yet? You’re supposed to mingle and network, Angie, maximize this opportunity,” her mother pushed.
“Mom … just as caring as I remember,” Angelique said sarcastically. “I’ll be mingling later this evening. Donatella is having a party, and she’s made it open to models. I think designers are going to try to poach each other’s girls.”
“Yes! You do that, darling. Make sure you get noticed. Also, buy a dinner dress while you’re in Paris. We’ll both be attending an event when you return.”
“Let me guess,eligible bachelors will be in attendance,” Angelique asked wryly.
“Don’t give me grief this late at night, Angie. Take care.”
“You too, Mom—” But she had already hung up.
It was her last day in Paris. Angelique wanted to suck in as much Paris air as possible. She walked through the streets, sad that she had to leave so soon but happy she had been able to visit again. It was hot out so she was dressed in a loose gray t-shirt and blue denim shorts, her feet were encased in a pair of simple black sandals. She had thrown on huge black frames to keep out the sun and done her hair up in a ponytail.
She stopped at a gelato stand to get ice cream. While paying for it, she remembered her mom had asked her to get a dress. She found a clothing store and walked in, turning down the salesgirl’s offer to help; she moved through the aisles alone. They were always trying to sell off the ugliest, most overpriced clothes to gullible buyers. Angelique prided herself on having a keen taste for style. She stopped when she spotted a red sequined dress with long sleeves, and a line that ran from each shoulder and dipped into a V, leaving the dress backless. Angelique checked the price before letting herself hope. She knew dresses as elegant and detailed as this belonged in an antique store. It wasn’t surprising to see that the price was way above her budget. She heaved a sigh and walked into the next row to find a cheaper dress.
Angelique was trying to make up her mind about another dress when she was approached by a deep, manly voice in a strange accent.
"Will you be taking that one?”
“I beg your pardon, do you work here?” she asked in an annoyed tone, doing a double take when she saw him. She began to stammer in apology. “I’m sorry. Do you, um, do you, like, own this store or something?”
He was dressed in a cobalt-blue peak-lapelled suit, paired off with dark brown cordovan lace-up shoes. Angelique eyed his outfit and the watch he was wearing; she knew she had been wrong to address him the way she had earlier.
“I do not own the store; and I apologize if I startled you. You see, I’ve been following you.” Amused by her look of panic, he tried to reassure her.
“It isn’t what you are thinking. I’ve just left a meeting in the next building. I saw you at the ice cream shop. I was going to come to meet you, but you were already crossing in my direction. I’ve been watching from the door in contemplation. I wasn’t sure if it was alright to come in after you so I stayed by door.”
He spoke with an underlying accent Angelique could not place, though she wasn’t trying hard, more enamored by his good looks. Tall, much taller than she was, he must have been around 6ft4; he had deep blue eyes set in a hard but handsome face. His voice reminded her of the ocean, deep and drizzly.
“Forgive me. I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Dmitri, I’m here on business. What’s your name? You look French but you have an American accent. Do you reside here or are you visiting?”
“I’m Angelique. My mother is Parisian, so that would explain my looks. I live in New York; I came for the fashion week.”
