I have to leave. My wife is expecting a baby.”
“Money is important,” Alix agreed. It was an open secret that Rudi adored Gilles. But Rudi was notoriously tightfisted.
“You should make the break, too.” Gilles looked at her sideways. “What is keeping you here?”
“Gilles, I just got this job.” She felt a ripple of inexplicable fear. She wasn’t ready to be thrown back into the world of challenge.
“Jackson Storm will pay more. For any top Paris model,” Gilles added hastily. He didn’t want Alix to know Jackson Storm wanted her, exclusively. “You are associated with my clothes, you wear them the way no one else can,” he coaxed. “Alix, consider!” He couldn’t repress his excitement any longer. “I’m going to design the most fabulous collection in Paris! Jackson Storm will give me complete artistic freedom. Mon Dieu, I am going to be famous!”
Alix looked uncertain. Gilles was so enthusiastic, she hoped everything he’d been promised would come true. But in a few weeks she was going to show the clothes Gilles had designed in Rudi’s spring collection. She looked forward to it. She’d worked hard to become Mortessier’s top model.
“You don’t need me,” she said, softly. “Jackson Storm isn’t going to do a spring collection. And it will be weeks before you even start to do any cutting for fall clothes. Hire a model then.”
Gilles had been so sure he could persuade her to come with him. Now, he could see, he’d waited too long. When he started to explain, to press his need for Alix without telling her it was Jackson Storm who really wanted her, he was surprised at her reaction.
“No, no, I really can’t make another move for a while.” Alix looked around, distracted. “Gilles, can’t you understand? I want to stay out of trouble if I can.”
“Trouble? What trouble?” Gilles couldn’t conceive of her not coming with him. She would ruin his arrangement with Jackson Storm!
“Let’s talk some other time.” She started toward the door. “I’ll get Iris. We need to get back to work.”
Gilles listened to the clatter of Alix’s heels as she descended the stairs to the employees’ lounge. He hadn’t made the Jackson Storm offer strong enough. He’d been so affected by what had happened yesterday, and now trying to get Rudi’s spring collection finished before he left, that he’d bungled this all-important business with Alix. A shiver of apprehension ran down Gilles’s spine.
It absolutely was not true, of course, that Alix sold his clothes. That couldn’t be the reason Jackson Storm wanted her. The couture business was always full of nasty, suspicious gossip. Gilles told himself his creative work stood on its own merit; he didn’t need Alix to enhance his designs.
On the other hand it would do no harm to have her with him, especially when she modeled his fashions as few others could. Especially when, for whatever reason, Jackson Storm insisted on it.
Gilles was already missing Rudi’s guiding hand. He needed advice. He reached across his drawing board to the telephone. He had a new employer now. There was one way to find out.
In the rue des Benedictines, Jackson Storm was not having a good day. His executive vice-president, Mindy Ferragamo, was delayed in New York just when he needed her, and his own secretary, Trini Fogel, had flown back that morning with some work that was overdue at headquarters. The president and chairman of the board of Jackson Storm, Inc. had been suddenly left to cope. Alone. It didn’t exactly make him happy.
Jack glowered at the group gathered in his office on the second floor of the Maison Louvel. It seemed as if the whole Storm King corporate structure was on a flight somewhere, about to arrive or depart at an airport, at any given time of the week. It was driving him nuts. And it was no way to run a business.
Jack had made his displeasure known to Peter Frank, his head of
“Money is important,” Alix agreed. It was an open secret that Rudi adored Gilles. But Rudi was notoriously tightfisted.
“You should make the break, too.” Gilles looked at her sideways. “What is keeping you here?”
“Gilles, I just got this job.” She felt a ripple of inexplicable fear. She wasn’t ready to be thrown back into the world of challenge.
“Jackson Storm will pay more. For any top Paris model,” Gilles added hastily. He didn’t want Alix to know Jackson Storm wanted her, exclusively. “You are associated with my clothes, you wear them the way no one else can,” he coaxed. “Alix, consider!” He couldn’t repress his excitement any longer. “I’m going to design the most fabulous collection in Paris! Jackson Storm will give me complete artistic freedom. Mon Dieu, I am going to be famous!”
Alix looked uncertain. Gilles was so enthusiastic, she hoped everything he’d been promised would come true. But in a few weeks she was going to show the clothes Gilles had designed in Rudi’s spring collection. She looked forward to it. She’d worked hard to become Mortessier’s top model.
“You don’t need me,” she said, softly. “Jackson Storm isn’t going to do a spring collection. And it will be weeks before you even start to do any cutting for fall clothes. Hire a model then.”
Gilles had been so sure he could persuade her to come with him. Now, he could see, he’d waited too long. When he started to explain, to press his need for Alix without telling her it was Jackson Storm who really wanted her, he was surprised at her reaction.
“No, no, I really can’t make another move for a while.” Alix looked around, distracted. “Gilles, can’t you understand? I want to stay out of trouble if I can.”
“Trouble? What trouble?” Gilles couldn’t conceive of her not coming with him. She would ruin his arrangement with Jackson Storm!
“Let’s talk some other time.” She started toward the door. “I’ll get Iris. We need to get back to work.”
Gilles listened to the clatter of Alix’s heels as she descended the stairs to the employees’ lounge. He hadn’t made the Jackson Storm offer strong enough. He’d been so affected by what had happened yesterday, and now trying to get Rudi’s spring collection finished before he left, that he’d bungled this all-important business with Alix. A shiver of apprehension ran down Gilles’s spine.
It absolutely was not true, of course, that Alix sold his clothes. That couldn’t be the reason Jackson Storm wanted her. The couture business was always full of nasty, suspicious gossip. Gilles told himself his creative work stood on its own merit; he didn’t need Alix to enhance his designs.
On the other hand it would do no harm to have her with him, especially when she modeled his fashions as few others could. Especially when, for whatever reason, Jackson Storm insisted on it.
Gilles was already missing Rudi’s guiding hand. He needed advice. He reached across his drawing board to the telephone. He had a new employer now. There was one way to find out.
In the rue des Benedictines, Jackson Storm was not having a good day. His executive vice-president, Mindy Ferragamo, was delayed in New York just when he needed her, and his own secretary, Trini Fogel, had flown back that morning with some work that was overdue at headquarters. The president and chairman of the board of Jackson Storm, Inc. had been suddenly left to cope. Alone. It didn’t exactly make him happy.
Jack glowered at the group gathered in his office on the second floor of the Maison Louvel. It seemed as if the whole Storm King corporate structure was on a flight somewhere, about to arrive or depart at an airport, at any given time of the week. It was driving him nuts. And it was no way to run a business.
Jack had made his displeasure known to Peter Frank, his head of
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