Designing Emma (Volume 4)

by Clarissa Carlyle

  THREE HOURS INTO THE flight, Emma was growing restless. She’d already watched two romantic comedies and awkwardly maneuvered herself past Daniel to get to the restroom. She wasn’t sure how much more of the silent treatment she could take. The Daniel she used to know would have been so much fun on the flight. They’d watch the same movies, laugh, talk, and just enjoy one another’s company. Instead, he’d not said a single word to her since takeoff.

  “So are we not talking for the duration of just the flight or the entire trip?” she finally asked, pausing her inflight entertainment to turn and look at him. Daniel pretended to be engrossed in what he was watching and ignored her.

  Anger ignited in Emma’s veins, and she swiftly removed his headset and held him in a steady gaze.

  “Answer me,” she demanded.

  Sighing, Daniel turned to face her. “What is there to say?” he asked dismissively.

  “We were friends once, Daniel. Best friends. Despite not being together now, I don’t want to lose that. Your problem is you’ve always been so goddamned stubborn, but I refuse to put up with it anymore. I’m going to enjoy this flight, and you’re going to enjoy it with me. Together, we’re going to watch that cheesy action film from the cover of the magazine, and we’re going to laugh about it, drink wine and eat terrible plane food. Understood?”

  “Understood.” He nodded.

  EMMA ADMIRED THE VIEW from her hotel window as she looked out across the historic architecture of the city of Paris. Gray clouds hung heavily in the sky, threatening rain, but she didn’t care. She opened her window and inhaled. The air smelled of freshly baked goods, gasoline, and coffee. It smelled amazing.

  Smiling, she turned back to her room. She’d slept in the double bed covered in pristine white sheets, but the fact that Daniel was sleeping on the other side of the wall had never been far from her mind.

  On the flight over, they’d actually managed to have fun. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to relax with her, to be the Daniel she knew and loved. They’d watched bad movies and laughed until their sides ached, and it all felt so familiar, so right. Then they had landed, and it was as if the spell had been broken. On the taxi ride from the airport, Daniel drew back into himself and barely spoke to her. But he’d forgiven her, albeit briefly, which gave Emma hope that they could get back to how they had once been. There was still something between them, she knew it.

  “THE FOOD HERE IS AMAZING,” Emma gushed as she tucked into her second croissant at breakfast.

  “How many meetings have we got scheduled today?” Daniel asked, looking intently at his iPad.

  Emma shrugged. “A few,” she replied between mouthfuls. “I’m more interested in visiting local stores, markets, that kind of thing, to source for ideas. I’d like to go round the Louvre too.”

  “Sure.” Daniel scrolled through their agenda on the touch screen, wishing it was more tightly packed. There was too much free time. Too much time for dinners or strolls. Too many opportunities when he might again let his guard down with Emma.

  “What do you think of Paris?” Emma asked, her eyes wide with interest.

  “I’ve barely seen it yet.”

  “We can rectify that.” Emma smiled. “Find time in our agenda to visit some of the sights. I refuse to leave here without having climbed the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Emma—”

  “I refuse to leave without having done so,” she repeated, emphasizing her refusal.

  “Fine.” Daniel sighed and adjusted the schedule. “We can fit in a bit of sightseeing. Happy now?”

  “Not yet, but I will be,” Emma replied.

  THEY STOOD IN LINE for the better part of half an hour before they finally got into the Louvre. Emma pored over the map. There was so much to see, so many exhibits, all of them deserving of her attention.

  “What shall we see?” Emma asked Daniel, revealing how much she felt like a tourist on vacation. From the outside, they looked like any other couple.

  “What do you need to see?” Daniel’s tone was sharp.

  “Well, all of it,” Emma implored. “All of it is exceptional, or it wouldn’t be here.”

  “Yes, but what do you need to see for the collection.”

  Emma pondered the map for a moment. She was in Paris to source inspiration; she now realized that was a rather vague endeavor. Inspiration was supposed to find you; you weren’t supposed to go looking for it.

  Her gaze was drawn to the Egyptian exhibit. There would be prints in there. Fabrics with ornate golden designs. She was sure there would be something to spark her interest.

  “How about the Egyptian wing?” She pointed to the relevant spot on the map.

  “Sure.”

  “Can you at least pretend to care?” Emma moaned.

  “When it comes to caring, I don’t ever pretend,” Daniel replied, becoming hostile.

  Emma flinched as he strode off ahead of her in the direction of the exhibit. She realized that his barbed comment was referring to her almost marriage to Nick. Her shoulders slumped as any romantic notions of them rekindling their relationship drifted away. He’d never forgive her, she saw that now.

  EMMA PERCHED ON ONE of the benches dotted around the Louvre and made crude sketches of some of the exhibits. She liked the sharp lines of the clothes the sculptures wore. The designs were also interesting, very asymmetrical.

  Daniel hovered nearby, looking at an ornate golden statue of a head. He was wearing jeans and a gray sweater beneath a long black overcoat, which was currently hanging open. On his wrist, a designer watch sparkled despite the dim light of the exhibit. He always looked so polished, so immaculate. Even in prep school he wore his uniform, it didn’t wear him. It was as if he’d been born stylish, unlike Emma and Damion, who always felt and looked uncomfortable in their blazers. She always envied Daniel’s ability to make everything look easy.

  “Those look good.” He drifted over and glanced down at the sketches.

  Emma immediately felt self-conscious and shielded them from further inspection with her arms.

  “Hey! Don’t be so defensive. They’re good!”

  “They’re not finished,” Emma explained shyly. She always felt very protective of her work, even in its finished state.

  “Just make sure you don’t deviate from your signature style.”

  “Thanks, but I hardly need design advice from you,” Emma seethed. “You’re here—actually, I’m not sure why you’re here? To babysit me? Because you certainly aren’t any help!”

  “I could leave,” Daniel suggested, his eyes narrowing.

  “You’re good at that.” Emma raised her tone slightly and drew angry glances from people nearby. Blushing, she tried to control her emotions.

  “I’m done with this.” Daniel shook his head in frustration. “I’ll see you back at the hotel at three for the meeting with the European distributer.”

  Emma watched Daniel walk away, taking long angry strides. A part of her wanted to run after him, to apologize and try to make things right. But she knew all too well that when Daniel wanted to leave, there was no stopping him.

  “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Emma.” The European distributer was a French lady who seemed to be in her mid to late forties. She wore her dark brown hair in a tight bun atop her head and was dressed exclusively in Chanel.

  “Bonjour.” Emma shook her hand politely, hoping that there wouldn’t be any further French spoken during their exchange. Languages had never been her strong suit.

  Both women sat down on a decorative sofa, in front of which the hotel had laid out some afternoon tea and macaroons. Daniel sat with them in a separate chair, his expression intense. He hadn’t spoken to Emma since storming out of the Louvre.

  “We are so excited to stock Delacourt Designs in our stores,” the lady said in her thick French accent. “I have here a list of all our stores throughout Europe, you’ll notice that our stores in London and Paris are flagship, which means they will preview your designs before they are rolled out
for wider distribution.”

  Emma accepted the list and looked over it with dull eyes. It listed almost every major city throughout Europe, but she struggled to get excited. She wanted things to be right with Daniel.

  “We love the fall line,” she enthused. “As a Parisian woman, I think the dresses are exquisite, and I cannot wait to wear them.”

  “Thank you.” Emma smiled modestly.

  “And how lovely that you work with your husband.” The lady gestured to Daniel. Emma opened her mouth to correct her, but the woman continued, oblivious of her error.

  “Love is such a powerful force. With such passion existing in your life, it is no wonder you can create such wonderful designs. I can sense the passion between you just sitting here!”

  Daniel remained silent, which confused Emma.

  “Well, I’m currently here preparing for my spring line,” she explained, hoping to sideline the questions about Daniel.

  “Yes, yes.” The woman clapped her hands together. “Paris is the most inspirational of cities! I’m sure you will create something wonderful from being here.”

  FORTY MINUTES, THREE cups of tea and four macaroons later, the European distributer left. As her cloud of Channel Number 5 departed, Emma turned on Daniel.

  “Why did you let her think we were married?” she hissed.

  “Because it’s good for the company,” Daniel replied nonchalantly. “The French love romance.”

  “I thought you didn’t pretend to care.”

  “I don’t. I just had to sit here and let her believe what she wanted to believe.”

  “You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Emma scolded, standing up. “You judge me so harshly for something you’d just as easily do. You’re a dick.”

  She started to storm off towards the elevator, wanting only to hide out in her room and cry into her perfect white pillows.

  “Wait.” Daniel caught her by the wrist and spun her around.

  Stunned, she looked at him as tears began to well up in her eyes.

  “I don’t want us to be at each other’s throats the entire trip,” he admitted. “If we’ve got to work together, we at least need to learn to be civil to one another.”

  “That’s fair.” Emma coughed, clearing her throat and trying to remove the lump that was forming in it.

  “Let’s do dinner tonight. Together.”

  Emma’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time Daniel had asked her out for dinner. Definitely not since they were together. Dinner was a date. Was he asking her out on a date?

  “I heard about this wonderful bistro a few streets away that apparently does an amazing duck a l’orange.”

  “Sounds... nice.” Emma didn’t want to appear too enthusiastic.

  “So what do you say? Can we make a peace treaty?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll make the reservation for seven, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  EMMA SPENT THE REMAINDER of the afternoon working on the sketches she had drawn up in the Louvre. She sat outside a small café, enjoying a cappuccino. The coffee there wasn’t as strong as in America, and she preferred it. It gave her a pleasant buzz rather than an intense injection of energy.

  Most of the other patrons were couples, holding hands across the tables and gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes. In a foreign tongue, they declared their love and made promises about eternity. Emma ignored them, grateful she couldn’t fully understand what they were uttering in dulcet tones, and looked out at the passing world beyond.

  Luckily, she was under cover as the clouds had made good on their threat of rain, and a light drizzle was currently coating the city. It provided a soft pattering soundtrack to her thoughts as she tried to focus solely on her designs and ignore all the happy couples, who seemed to be multiplying in numbers.

  Paris seemed bleak beneath the rain clouds, but it still retained an air of decadence. The streetlights twinkled magically, and the air still smelled of coffee and baked goods. It was easy to see why the city was so synonymous with romance. The elegance of it all was palpable in the air.

  As she sat there watching the people passing by, Emma noted the clean lines of their clothes, the sleek effortless style that all Parisians seemed to have. The dresses, the long coats. The hats, the gloves. It was the same sort of style she wanted to bring to her own designs. Effortless chic. As she drew, she began combining these clean lines with the Egyptian prints. She wanted to use cotton, lots of cotton. For the spring line, cotton was cool, crisp and traditional. Several hours had passed when she checked her watch, and glancing at her notepad, she was confident that she had the makings of an amazing spring line. Satisfied, she paid her bill and dashed off back to the hotel, moving quickly to avoid the rain. She didn’t have much time left to prepare for dinner with Daniel.

  EMMA WORE THE ONLY little black dress that she’d taken with her. It was simple yet elegant, clung to her modest curves, and made her legs seem slender and long. She wore her hair in a loose bun and had accentuated her eyes with smoky makeup. Taking one final glance in the mirror, she smiled with satisfaction.

  If she’d needed a second opinion on how amazing she looked, she got it when she met Daniel in the foyer of the hotel. He’d been casually leaning against a table, and when he turned and saw her, he straightened and his eyes widened in awe. Emma blushed while her heart danced madly in her chest.

  “You look...” Daniel struggled to find the right word. “Nice.” He eventually settled on something barely complimentary, but Emma knew that even though he didn’t say it, his eyes revealed everything about what he was thinking.

  “Thanks,” she replied politely.

  “I figured we could just walk to the bistro since the rain has stopped.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Emma fought the urge to take his hand and instead had to settle for just walking side by side.

  Outside, the air was cool and crisp and retained some of the moisture from the earlier rain. Emma shivered, wishing she’d brought a coat. In her excitement about going out, she’d forgotten just how cold Paris was at that time of year.

  “Here.” In a gentlemanly gesture, Daniel removed his navy suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders. Emma felt her knees buckle slightly. It was the sort of thing the old Daniel would do, the Daniel who loved her.

  “You look cold,” he explained shyly.

  Emma turned her head to look at him as they walked. Daniel Richmond was never shy, yet he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze. She smiled to herself, pleased that the magic of their former love was seemingly bringing them back together.

  “YOU SHOULD REALLY HAVE the champagne,” the waiter advised as Daniel browsed the extensive wine menu.

  “For a couple in love, in Paris, it is the only thing you can drink.”

  Daniel’s jaw clenched at being mistaken for a couple for a second time, but he didn’t correct the waiter. Instead he just nodded.

  “Champagne it is, then.”

  “Of course.” The waiter smoothly left their small table, their order in his hand, leaving them alone once more.

  “Everyone seems to think we’re a couple,” Emma noted, carefully monitoring Daniel’s reaction.

  “It’s because we’re in Paris. Most people are couples here,” he replied flippantly.

  Emma felt her heart begin to sink, but then she noticed the navy suit jacket now on the back of her chair. He did still care, she was certain of it.

  THE CHAMPAGNE WAS DELECTABLE. Easily the finest Emma had ever tasted. By the bottom of her second glass, she was already decidedly giddy. Everything smelled and tasted so good. The duck a l’orange had been sublime. She wolfed it down in front of Daniel, not caring how she looked.

  “This is so good!” she declared between mouthfuls.

  “Yeah.” Daniel nodded in agreement. He watched her shove great forkfuls of the exquisite dinner into her mouth. Emma had never been shy when it came to food. Back at prep school, w
hen they’d sneak away to a McDonald’s, she was always the one who placed the biggest order. She’d devour a Big Mac in less than a minute. Daniel always admired her attitude towards food and life in general. Emma never wasted any time pretending to be someone she wasn’t. So many of the women he went on dates with would just pick at a salad without dressing, as they were on a perpetual diet. A diet that made them both irritable and dull.

  When Emma’s plate was clean, she washed her dinner down with some more champagne.

  “You always could eat,” Daniel exclaimed, still finishing his own meal.

  “I like my food.” Emma shrugged.

  “Will you want anything else?”

  “Oooh, like a dessert?” Emma located the dessert cart on the other side of the bistro, loaded with slices of chocolate cakes and soufflés. Everything on it looked delicious.

  “Yeah.” Daniel smiled at her enthusiasm. “Like a dessert.”

  “I could definitely go for something belonging to the chocolate family,” Emma cooed. As if hearing her desire, a waiter slid the dessert cart closer to their table so that she could fully admire its contents.

  Fresh from the patisserie, there was an assortment of delicious desserts covered in cream and adorned with fruits. Emma’s eyes were drawn to a very decadent piece of chocolate cake, which had multiple layers of sponge separated by gooey fondant.

  “I think the lady has chosen.” Daniel glanced at the waiter when he noticed Emma lock in on the cake.

  “And for the gentleman?” the waiter politely asked.

  Daniel glanced at the cart. He’d never had that much of a sweet tooth. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was trying to watch his weight. Having a desk-bound job the last year had made it more of a chore to stay in shape.

  “We’ll share,” Emma answered for him. “I couldn’t eat it all on my own.”

  “Of course.” The waiter went away to prepare the chocolate cake.