But there was a proviso—Josh himself wasn’t to darken the door. His mother had to meet him off the premises. The unexpected betrayal had been a painful blow—he had still needed her. How could she accept separation from him in return for financial comfort?
Thankfully his aunt had stepped up to assure him he would always have a home in the North End. The security of Aunt Lil’s love had done much to soothe the sting of his mother’s betrayal. Now he was able to ensure his aunt was secure financially for the rest of her days.
Yet, to his mother’s credit, she had worked to keep up her relationship with him, just as she had with her older son when he’d been forbidden to her. In recent years, he had tentatively rebuilt his relationship with his mother. Not to what it had been when it had been him and her against his father and his world, but something both of them were moderately happy with. However, he had never trusted her enough to confide in her about his vendetta against his ex-father. She was too beholden to him to be trusted.
Control. Eloise was right in her thinking. In that marriage his mother had ceded all independence to her husband’s control. But surely men of his generation didn’t behave like that with their wives? Even with his insistence that all dating was casual, he’d been stung by women impressed by his wealth, who saw him as a potential meal ticket. But to him a relationship had to be one of equals—his mother had been trapped in an unhappy marriage, as she’d given up her career to support her husband’s and been financially unable to support her sons.
The waitress winked at him when she put his plate in front of him, not so Eloise could see. He couldn’t tell Eloise but during his first days in Sydney he had spent quite some time in this café, watching her atelier in the hope of seeing her going in or coming out. This waitress had asked him if he was waiting for his fiancée to have a fitting at the exclusive bridal store over the road. He’d made a noncommittal answer she had obviously misinterpreted. Did she think Eloise was his fiancée? From the knowing way she looked from him to Eloise he believed so—and that she approved of their ‘romance’. He swallowed a curse. How would he ever explain that to Eloise if the girl said anything about his prior visit to her café?
He was glad for the diversion of eating their meals. He didn’t want to talk about weddings or anything related to them. But suddenly he didn’t feel very hungry.
‘Are you going to finish your salmon?’ Eloise asked.
He noticed she’d barely touched her salad. ‘No. If you’d like—’
She smiled. ‘Not for me. But Daisy is very fond of salmon. If you don’t want it, I could take a doggy bag back to her.’
‘She’d be very welcome.’
‘My mother will be picking her up soon to take her home with her. I asked her to mind Daisy for me, as I’ve been invited to a big pull-out-all-the-stops wedding out in the country this weekend.’
‘It’s convenient your mother could look after her for you.’
‘Yes. Only it might be for nothing. I’m not sure I can bear to go to the wedding. Horrid @lindytheblonde is going to be there and I don’t think I can face her.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you.’ He corrected himself. ‘The you that I’ve got to know, that is. Wouldn’t she see it as a victory if you didn’t go?’
‘Probably. And Becca, the bride, might be disappointed if I cry off. We’ve become good friends. I dressed her for her first wedding and this is her second.’
‘Do you often get repeat business?’
‘Quite often. In this case she’s got it right the second time. Husband number two, Simon, is a fabulous guy. I’d like to be there to celebrate with her. There’s also the fact that among all those guests might be potential clients. But I really don’t think I can face @lindytheblonde.’ Her voice hitched. ‘My presence will only point out the truth of what she’s saying about me because I don’t have a plus-one to take to the wedding.’
‘I can be your plus-one.’ The words slipped out as if of their own volition.
Her eyes widened. ‘You could? But you’re going back to Boston.’
‘I don’t have to. I’m my own boss.’
‘Really? You’d really do that for me?’
‘It would hardly be a hardship,’ he said drily.
‘It’s out near Bowral, south west of Sydney, very posh. The wedding is to be held in a grand country house owned by the groom’s family. I’ve been invited to stay the night. We made the bride’s gown and the attendants’. It will be a beautiful wedding. But it does mean a nearly two-hour drive out there and then back the next day. If you’re sure you can spare the time...?’
‘I can do that,’ he said. He didn’t like seeing her being ill-treated by the woman.
‘Thank you! I accept your offer.’ She clapped her hands together in delight, her cheeks flushed. She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Have you got a tux with you?’
‘No, I didn’t see the need.’
‘No matter. We can tailor one for you. We sometimes do that for special grooms. Actually, there are some brides who like a white tux as well. We have an excellent tailor on the staff. You’d just have to come in for a fitting. Now. After lunch. I’ll take your measurements myself. Then another fitting tomorrow.’
Josh gulped at the prospect of Eloise taking his inside leg measurement. ‘Great,’ he choked out. What the hell was he letting himself in for?
CHAPTER SIX
THERE WASN’T TIME to waste. As soon as they finished lunch, Eloise ushered Josh over the road and through the door to Eloise Evans Atelier. She gave him a quick tour around the ground-floor salon. As she did, she immediately felt her tension ratchet down a notch. Her business was everything to her. She would defend it in any legal way she could. Josh had offered her a lifeline as her plus-one for the weekend wedding. With him by her side, she could hold her head up high against any barbs from that malicious influencer.
The spacious room proudly celebrated femininity. One of her clients had called it a shrine to brides and maybe that wasn’t far off. The space was decorated in shades of white and cream, with plush carpets underfoot and silver vases filled with magnificent fresh flower arrangements strategically placed. Bolts of the finest fabrics sourced from all around the world spilled out of a large, open armoire she’d imported from France and shimmered under the light of a lavish antique crystal chandelier.
‘We pride ourselves on luxury and exclusivity,’ she explained. ‘The salon is set up to see one bridal party at a time—the bride, her attendants, her mother, whoever she chooses to bring with her. Appointments are timed so that brides are unlikely to bump into other brides.’
‘And the price reflects the level of service,’ he said. She liked the way he took her ‘girly’ business so seriously and seemed to have an innate understanding of how she operated.
‘And comfort,’ she said. Upholstered chairs were strategically placed around the space. Champagne was chilling in a silver ice bucket, canapés would be offered. And tissues for the tears of those brides overcome by the beauty of their gowns and their mothers overcome by the beauty of their daughters.
All that was missing was a bride trying on a gown from the rack filled with garments in various shades of pale to see which shapes best suited her and twirling in front of the large mirrors with ornate gilt frames. A girl from a very wealthy northern suburbs family should have been doing just that right now. Only she’d cancelled at the last minute, citing ‘philosophical differences with the designer’ as her reason. Even the thought of it made Eloise grit her teeth.
Josh’s expression was vaguely hunted, his eyes glazed as he looked around. ‘Impressive,’ he said.
‘I wanted to recreate the kind of elegant salon that impressed me when I worked in Paris. Getting fitted for a wedding dress should be a memorable, happy experience and a real treat.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ he said. ‘But—’
&
nbsp; ‘There’s a but?’
He shuddered. ‘I feel totally out of place here. I’m too tall, too big, too male.’
He was all that without a doubt. Oh, yes. And so very handsome. She couldn’t be happier that he had offered to escort her to Becca’s wedding. He was perfect. And if @lindytheblonde got wind that he was a billionaire, that would be even better.
She laughed. ‘Men aren’t usually part of the wedding dress decision. Remember, it’s thought to be bad luck for a groom to see the bride’s dress before their wedding. Old traditions die hard. I think you’ll be more comfortable in the workroom upstairs.’
‘Perhaps I could go out and buy a tuxedo rather than you make—’
She shook her head. ‘Not happening. The least I can do for you in return for accompanying me to the wedding is to provide a bespoke tuxedo. You’re used to having your clothes made bespoke, I can tell.’
‘I go to the best tailor in Boston.’
‘Besides, I couldn’t possibly have my plus-one accompany me in anything that wasn’t classy and impeccably tailored.’
He looked at her, bemused. ‘I’m uncertain if you’re joking or not.’
‘Mostly not joking. I’m judged by the quality of my clothes. I guess I’ll be judged by the quality of your suit if @lindytheblonde really has the daggers out for me at the wedding. I don’t want you caught up in it.’
Eloise led Josh up the stairs, and through another set of doors to the workroom.
‘This is the heart of my business,’ she said proudly. ‘Where a bride’s dreams of the perfect dress become reality.’
This large room was a constant hub of activity. Her team of seamstresses sat at industrial sewing machines or hand-stitching garments, mostly white, some the myriad colours of bridesmaids’ dresses. They all wore gloves to protect the very expensive fabrics.
Trolleys were hung with clipped-together bunches of brown paper pattern pieces. Dressmaker’s dummies were draped with pinned and half-finished gowns. Various samples of lace and trims and ribbons dangled from metal racks. A mood board for a large upcoming wedding where they were dressing not just the bride and her attendants but also all the female members of their extended families dominated one corner.
Eloise breathed in the scent of freshly cut fabrics, of paper and sewing machines. She loved it all. Most nights it was a wrench to go home. She couldn’t bear it being under threat.
She stood at the front of the room and addressed her team. ‘I’d like to introduce you all to Josh Taylor. He’s accompanying me to the Sanderson wedding and we need to get him into a tux, pronto. We’ll need to pull out all the stops.’
She was surprised at the wave of giggles that rippled through the room. Her close friend and second in command, Vinh Tran, came over to her, unable to suppress an enormous smile. ‘Hi, Josh; we were wondering when Eloise was going to introduce you to us,’ she said, for the room’s benefit.
‘What?’ The word exploded from Eloise.
She looked anxiously up at Josh. Surely he wouldn’t think she’d boasted to her friends and colleagues about their date, blown it up to something so much more than it was? He shifted from one foot to the other, looking as uncomfortable as she was feeling.
She’d told Vinh she was going on her first date in for ever with a visiting American when they’d been working on the pink tea dress she’d worn that night, but that was as far as it had gone.
‘You mean you haven’t seen it?’ said Vinh.
‘Seen what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Vinh brought over her tablet and, without a word, enlarged the images on screen to show her.
Eloise’s hand shot to her mouth to stifle her gasp. There she was in close-up, in her red spotted skirt, leaning across the table in the nearby café and kissing Josh. It had only been a brief kiss, but the camera gave it so much more significance. There was another of them talking, their heads so close they were almost touching, smiling into each other’s eyes. The images were close, intimate, and she was glowing. They looked so good together.
‘Where did these come from?’
‘They were posted on one of the local gossip sites.’ Vinh read out the caption. ‘“New man for celebrity frock queen?”’ I must say you look gorgeous. And...er...so do you, Josh.’
Vinh, a petite Vietnamese Australian, had been friends with Eloise since the first days of their fashion design degree. Eloise had dropped out soon after her internship in Paris ended, as she figured she’d learned enough about the nuts and bolts of design and patternmaking and had keenly observed how the French bridal couture house had operated. Vinh had completed her degree and, while she was an excellent designer, she was also interested in the business side of running a label. But Vinh hadn’t wanted to start her own. Each of the friends had not had good experiences working for established fashion companies.
Eloise had set up by herself on a small scale, working from an industrial site in Alexandria. Some of those girls for whom she’d made prom dresses had asked if she could work her magic on their wedding dresses. Word-of-mouth recommendations and exposure on social media had given her the bookings and the confidence to expand into Double Bay, or Double Pay as it was colloquially known. Two years ago she’d asked Vinh to join her in the business. It had proved to be an excellent decision.
Now Vinh was obviously taken with Josh and kept giving Eloise meaningful sideways glances of approval. Dear heaven, please don’t let Josh notice, Eloise prayed.
Eloise frowned. ‘But who—?’
‘The waitress?’ Josh said.
‘Mara? Maybe.’
‘A lot of people walk past there—it could have been anyone with a camera phone who recognised you,’ said Vinh.
Josh turned to Eloise. ‘Isn’t this good publicity for you? It takes the sting out of the attack from the influencer.’ He paused. ‘And I agree, you look beautiful.’
A soft, collective sigh sounded through the room. Eloise felt the sudden sting of tears and blinked down hard on them. She was as susceptible to romance as anyone else—more so perhaps, given her profession—it was just she fought so hard against it for herself. She couldn’t let herself get to like Josh too much. He’d soon be winging his way back home. There would be no chance to see if the attraction between them could lead to anything deeper.
‘In fact, it’s very romantic,’ said Vinh. ‘And if you’re going to that big wedding together on the weekend, that’s all the better.’
Vinh and the rest of the team were aware of her anguish over the influencer’s damaging posts. And the fact if the business slid downhill their jobs could be at risk.
Eloise looked at the photo again. She’d like a copy for herself but didn’t dare admit it. Later, she’d take a screen shot. ‘You’re both right,’ she said.
‘Let’s hope it goes viral, then,’ said Vinh. She turned to Eloise. ‘Before I forget, your mum popped in to pick up Daisy. She said she was double parked and couldn’t wait for you.’
‘Thanks,’ said Eloise, disappointed she wouldn’t see her little foster dog until after the weekend. People sometimes asked her how she liked living alone. She would reply she was never alone, as she had a series of canine companions. When it came to love, dogs were so much more reliable than humans.
Josh seemed genuinely disappointed too. ‘I’m sorry I won’t see Daisy.’
Vinh then turned to Josh. ‘We need to take your measurements for that rush order tux.’
Eloise caught Josh’s eye. For a moment she was tempted to take the tailor’s tape measure and do it herself, as she’d suggested at the café. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. There was a lot of body measuring involved for a bespoke suit so it would fit and drape perfectly. She just couldn’t. It would be somehow too...intimate. She was too aware of him, of the feelings aroused by that kiss, to trust herself.
‘Yes,�
�� she said to Vinh. ‘Can you please handle him...er... I mean, handle that? You know what I mean.’ Her friend laughed. Josh looked discomfited in a way she found very appealing.
‘I think the Italian wool and silk fabric in midnight-blue,’ she said. ‘What do you think, Josh?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll put myself in your expert hands.’ Eloise blushed high on her cheekbones and hoped he didn’t notice. She’d like that very much.
* * *
During the process of being measured for his tux, Josh became aware of how liked and admired Eloise was by her staff. How hard she worked. What a fair manager she was. How very unfair it was that the spiteful actions of a disgruntled Bridezilla should threaten the business she loved so passionately.
If he were Eloise, he would be immediately seeking a way to ruin that influencer. He was vengeful and didn’t mind admitting it. Long after his opponent had forgotten about his attack on Josh or one of his enterprises—or thought they’d got away with it—he would strike. The smiling assassin, one of his business associates had labelled him. And they hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
He hadn’t always been that hard, vengeful person. As a kid, he’d been sunny, good-natured, secure in his family and status. All that had changed the day he’d been evicted from his home and the life he’d thought was his by birth. Then he’d had to use his smarts and any weapon available to him to forge ahead. He treated people with honesty, and if he didn’t get it in return then they would get their comeuppance. He knew he would never get the revenge he wanted against the man who had raised him—his ex-father’s fortune was too blue-chip, too established—but he could certainly chip away at the edges of it. And, oh, how he would gloat to see him up before the bankruptcy court.
He was glad he was able to help Eloise by accompanying her to the wedding as her plus-one. How wise an action that was for him, he hadn’t paused to think. Or how he would explain it to Tori. Eloise needed help, and on impulse he’d come to the rescue. Now he realised there was yet another way he could help her get revenge on her opponent.
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