_OceanofPDF

My mother had built my father’s fashion empire and managed it until
the day she died. Basile designed every gown and accessory until the day he
joined her, but not before marrying a stepmother who hated me.
Use your gifts. My name is your responsibility now.
Those were his last words to me, uttered in halting breaths while cancer
ate the last of his life. The last thing he heard in this world was my voice
telling him he didn’t have to worry. I’d use my gifts for the Papillion name.
So I stayed at the company I knew like the back of my hand.
When his widow, Bianca, demoted me, I stayed.
When she brought on the moody but well-known Jean-Claude Josef as
design director to rescue the couture business, I stayed because I was the
only one who knew how to turn his nonsense drawings into garments that
would not only work in the real world, but actually honor the Papillion
name.
When I was relegated to the fit room, pinning up garments I couldn’t
afford for people who weren’t worth my time, I stayed.
When Bianca added a cheap branded T-shirt line for discount stores, I
fucking stayed.
Also, I needed the job, and sometimes I met nice people, like Olivia
Monroe, who stood on the raised platform in front of a bank of mirrors
while I perfected the hemline of her blue gown.
“You’re all set,” I said, standing. “Just don’t lose another half a size
while you sleep.”
She’d had Byron Crowne’s baby six months before, and I’d had to take
her dress in three times as she lost her pregnancy weight. The waist kept
sagging and the hem kept dropping, but this was the last alteration, and she
looked pretty damn good if I said so myself.
“It’s perfect,” she said. “Thank you so much for getting another fitting
in.”
“No problem.”
She looked at me in the mirror as I made sure the neckline hadn’t
dropped. “They’re working you pretty hard.”
“Crowne Jewels is the biggest event of the year.” The party at the new
Crowne place in Bel-Air had supposedly started as a small affair, but had
exploded into the event of the year. “Everyone wants to look good for the
paparazzi. When you move your arm, does it feel tight across the back?”