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“We won’t be needing your services anymore. Shoo, shoo!”
The commotion was getting out of control. Zizou had now joined Aoife in making sure the videographer departed without getting any sort of glimpse at what was happening, the poor man being pushed and shoved down the stairs with both Irish and French expletives hurled his way.
Renate’s heels sounded like explosions as she pushed Vi aside and entered the space, completely ignoring a naked Véronique who had been struggling to get any available clothes on herself ever since Frankie’s muttered curse a minute prior, when Chiara had opened the door.
The staccato of German, a barrage of outrage and anger, followed Renate’s entrance, with Frankie scrambling to get out of her sister’s way.
When she nearly succeeded, Renate grabbed the closest thing and hurled it at her. The mug shattered in a shower of porcelain. Vi might have taken the time to ponder how throwing things seemed to be a Lilienfeld family trait, except next to her, Chiara flinched.
Oh, damn…
Even as Aoife and Zizou climbed back up the stairs from dispatching the videographer, Chiara seemed to come alive with each of their steps and then—just as Aoife reached her and extended her arms to hold her, to gather her at her chest—she ran.
Another crash and now howling instead of curses from inside the studio distracted Vi, and she saw Frankie on the floor, her hand holding the side of her head and the arm of a mannequin—presumably hurled by the precise hands of Renate—next to her.
And now Renate finally turned to Véronique, who’d managed to snag a pair of pants but was still very much naked from the waist up.
“I trusted you! I hired you! You ungrateful...” Renate continued in German, her transition from one language to another seamless.
The second arm of the dismembered mannequin flew Véronique’s way, but Vi could tell Renate’s heart wasn’t really in it, because she turned to the door at Aoife’s gasp and kicked at a nearby workstation, allowing Véronique to flee.
“Well, this will be quite the walk of shame for our now less-than-esteemed attorney.” Aoife stepped into the studio and gave Frankie a dirty look.
“Don’t start, Sully—”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore!”
Aoife stepped closer to Frankie, and Renate was a ball of fury once again. “You swore on our father’s grave two years ago that you stopped! Has this been going on all this time?” A resounding slap rocked Frankie, and Vi jumped a foot in the air when someone simultaneously pulled on her forearm. She turned to see Zizou tug her out of the room and reluctantly followed him.
“You don’t need to be part of this.” His voice suddenly lost all of his deep accent, and Vi’s jaw dropped. “No time to explain, but let’s just say this is not what they hired me for when they asked me to look after Lilien Haus, and it looks like Renate’s paranoia about corporate espionage was unfounded for once.” He wiped his brow and looked into the room where anger and accusations were still raging.
“Zizou? They hired you?”
“Oui, a… what do you call it? A chef, yes, but also a private investigator. Just looking out for Lilien Haus. So that nothing happens to the new collection. Frankie wanted to be introduced to a royal, ignoring the danger… Your father has a reputation for not being honest.”
The cold sweat slid down her lower back. So she’d been right to have her suspicions. All her premonitions, all the whispers, all the shadows… Her strategy to keep Chiara, and thus Lilien, safe from her family had proven to be right. Renate had likely hired Zizou as a precaution when she couldn’t stop Frankie from agreeing to let Vi intern for them because of their connection to the royal family of Savoy. Well, Charles Courtenay had not held up his end of the bargain.
“You’re all right though. You’re a good kid. Proved even Renate wrong. Nothing like your family.”
He went on, and Vi her body flood with shame.
“Doesn’t matter now, Madame Conti is what’s important. This will destroy her. You need to go after her. She should not be alone now. Do you know where—”
Before he could finish, Vi, who’d been about to shake her head, suddenly realized that she knew very well where Chiara might be.
“The roof. She’ll be on the roof, Zizou!”
He rummaged in his massive overalls’ pockets and produced a key for her.
“So she’s told you.” Zizou’s eyes widened comically, and Vi realized that he had not expected Chiara to have shared her secret hiding place. “I think I heard the door slam, so she might have locked it. You can reach her if you climb from my shop—”
“I know all the rooftops from Lilien Haus to your place.”
She didn’t want to stay longer. Although she had way too many questions for him, questions she wasn’t even certain she wanted answers to. But in the end, her priorities were different now. Her concern for Chiara was paramount, so she pocketed the key and, after making sure Chiara had indeed locked the door to her floor, ran outside, shouting at Zizou who was standing rooted to the spot.
“I will meet her halfway.”
* * *
