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CHAPTER20
SIMON
The show endedover an hour ago and I still haven’t found an opening to track down Autumn. I saw her across the room earlier and wanted to go straight to her. Only the conversation I was having, with a top buyer from Galeries Lafayette, was enough to keep me away. But ever since, I’ve been scanning for her.
“Tobias, have you seen Autumn?” I ask casually.
His neutral face pinches slightly. “Uhm, backstage after the show, but not since. Is everything okay?”
I wave a hand, fighting to keep my expression nonchalant. “Yes, fine. I wanted to speak to each designer and she’s the last I haven’t spoken with.” That’s not true in the slightest. Of the five designers, I’ve only spoken with Beatrice and she approached me.
“Mmm-hmm,” Tobias answers. He looks over the crowd of people, which is starting to dwindle. Typically, once people have their glass of champagne, get photographed, and have a short audience with Jacqueline, they leave quickly. “If I see her, shall I tell her you’re looking for her?”
“Oh, no. That’s okay.” I keep my voice steady, my eyes moving over the room. But my attention is on Tobias to see if he’s buying this.
He’s equally adept at hiding his thoughts, having as many years of experience with it as I do, so I’m not certain of my success.
I make my way around the room, talking here and waving there, still looking for Autumn.
“Could you be any more obvious?” Jacqueline asks from behind me.
I flinch slightly, but I don’t feel any shame over it. There’s quite literally one person on the face of the planet who can set me on edge to this degree, and she’s right behind me. I turn to face my aunt, squaring my shoulders. “Excuse me?”
“Simon, do not play dumb with me. I’m aware of who you’re looking for, and of who you’re seeing. You haven’t exactly been subtle, gallivanting all over Paris.”
To any bystanders out of earshot, it would appear to be a polite, congenial conversation between close co-workers. Not family. Though there’s blood between us, we’re not the sort to make public displays of affection. Nor private ones either, actually. Jacqueline smiles wanly, sipping her champagne as she looks at me with shrewd eyes. I mirror her move, taking a drink of my own bubbly and meeting her eyes.
“Are you taking a sudden interest in my social life?” I respond lightly.
She clucks her tongue. “I’m always interested in who you see, what you’re doing, how you feel. But this? One of the designers? It’s inappropriate at the least, bordering on harassment.”
“No need to worry. It’s neither, I assure you.”
“No need to worry?” she repeats, horrified. “All I do is worry. Whether you’re on the right path, making the right choices, doing your best? And then, am I doing what’s best for you, giving you all you need, steering you correctly?”
Her outburst surprises me. It’s quiet, but firm and heartfelt. Does she really worry about me like that? In such a... motherly way? She’s given me everything money can buy, rescued me from what would’ve been a life of fear and loneliness in the orphanage, and provided me with security, education, and opportunity. But motherly? No, there were no hugs of affection, kisses to scraped knees, or tears wiped away when I cried.
What gives her the right to step in now and make some decree on what I should or shouldn’t be doing? Or whom I should or shouldn’t be seeing?
“I know what I’m doing.” I take a step to move past her, and she grips my forearm, stopping me.
Hard and stern, she orders, “I forbid you to see her romantically.”
“You mean sexually,” I correct, unyielding, and not touching the idea that she can forbid me from anything because it’s complete and utter bullshit.
“Simon!” she hisses, looking around to see if anyone’s heard us. “Stay away from her.”
I shake her off my arm, barely keeping the venom from my voice. “You haven’t seen fit to pay any attention to my social life before. Let’s continue the tradition, shall we?”
I walk away, leaving her in my wake, though I hear a ‘harrumph’ of displeasure. Jacqueline can be as upset as she wants, I don’t care.
When I’ve walked the entirety of what’s left of the cocktail hour and haven’t seen Autumn, I realize that she’s left without talking to me. It sits uneasily on my chest. I don’t like it.
I consider going straight to her apartment, knocking on the door, and pushing my way in once more... into her apartment and then into her body.
But Jacqueline is staring me down, and I know she’ll check up on me tonight. That’s annoying too, but I can play her games and still check on myPrincesse.
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