Butterfly by Nelle L’Amour
CHAPTER 53
Sofi
The next few months are the happiest in all my adult life. My dad’s surgery was a success and he’s doing well with the chemo. Mom tells me that while he’s had some bad days, the good ones far outnumber them. His doctors are optimistic and say his chances for a full recovery are excellent.
Despite how crazy busy Roman and I are readying his collection, we try to see him and my mom every weekend. My dad adores Roman—they share a love for opera and poetry—and he has found his match when it comes to chess. Both fierce, competitive players, they have a tournament going on and so far they’re even. My mom’s rooting for Roman while I’m rooting for my dad. And rooting for him to go into full remission.
On one trip, Madame DuBois—or Abra as I now call her—accompanied us. I learned her name fittingly means “mother of many” in Hebrew. I’m part Jewish! Both my parents finally got to meet my biological mother. It was both a tearful and joyous occasion for everyone. My mother and Abra bonded instantly and by the end of the day, were exchanging soup recipes for French onion and navy bean. And heartfelt hugs. How lucky I am to have two wonderful moms!
Another time, we took Mariposa with us. She has become such a major part of our lives—Roman’s little muse. She comes to his atelier regularly where I’ve continued to give her painting lessons. She’s become quite the little artist though she still says she wants to be a supermodel when she grows up. My parents adored her—how could they not?—and my dad, who was feeling well, brought her to his charming bookstore, where she picked out a dozen children’s books, including my favorites. The Very Hungry Caterpillar, about a caterpillar who morphs into a breathtaking butterfly, and Hope for the Flowers, a beautifully written allegorical tale about two caterpillars who discover there’s more to life than getting to the top of the social pillar. I had tears in my eyes when she sat on my father’s lap and he read it to her. Every time I’ve read that book it’s meant something different to me, and when I heard my dad read it to Mari, it was a story of hope and change. Roman held my hand, absorbing every word, and I could tell he was affected by it too. Like Stripe, one of the caterpillars, my Roman has changed so much since I met him. He has shed his dark cocoon and morphed into a new and more beautiful being. He has become the butterfly he was always meant to be. My beautiful Blue Morpho. I have never felt more cherished, protected, or loved by a man.
Our days are long, busy, and fulfilling. In so many ways. So inspired and ambitious, Roman has transformed the third level of his residence into a second atelier where his new ready-to-wear line is underway. He’s brought in another team of pattern makers, cutters, and seamstresses. Dubbed the Romanettes, they have all the equipment needed to knock it out, including sewing machines and a 3-D printer. We alternate spending time there and in the ground-floor atelier, where the handmade couture collection is taking shape. Coming to life.
While Roman, Abra, and the Romanoffs finesse the magnificent butterfly-inspired couture gowns, I spend a great deal of my time painting in the corner of the atelier. I’ve completed several canvases, including one of a Blue Morpho, which I plan to frame and give to Roman on his upcoming birthday. When I’m not painting, I love to watch Roman at work. I’m awed. Mesmerized. He’s a true artist and visionary—with such a keen eye for detail and precision. Even the slightest nip or tuck can make a difference in the way a gown falls. Roman frequently needs my help and I have to be his fitting model, which requires stripping down to my lace undergarments and letting him drape and pin one of his works in progress on me. To fine-tune the gowns, he puts me on a pedestal, both literally and figuratively. It’s the most sensual of sensuous experiences. To have the sumptuous fabric breathe against my skin and feel Roman’s discerning eye on me . . . the touch of his fingers on my body . . . and the warmth of his breath on my flesh. It gives me goose bumps and heart flutters. A rush of dizzying tingles between my thighs. Often, my desire for him becomes so great I want to burst out of the seams. The feeling is mutual and we have to break away to fulfill each other’s lust. Each other’s needs. Glorious love in the afternoon has become a daily ritual.
He’s even become more social. Agreeing to go out to an occasional dinner with both Harper and Vincent. My bestie has at last learned of my relationship with Roman, but it’s still all about her. To my sadness, she’s separating from Derek, citing irreconcilable differences. He wants kids; she doesn’t; her career comes first. To my great happiness, Vincent has fallen in love with Kimana, the stunning and lovely Native American waitress from La Brioche, who’s agreed to be a runway model in Roman’s upcoming show. As if it’s all meant to be, her name means butterfly in her ancestral Shoshone tribe.
Making our lives still better, Kendra has been more or less out of the picture. She told Roman she needed to take a trip to Rio, claiming she was meeting with an investor, though Roman’s certain she’s undergoing cosmetic surgery there. In her absence, Roman hired Mariposa’s mother, Consuela, to join the team much to Mari’s delight. A trained accountant, Consuela has been instrumental in helping Roman maintain his books, something he has neither the wherewithal nor interest in doing. She’s noticed several odd transactions—including a deluxe Caribbean cruise for two in the amount of ten thousand dollars and a thirty-thousand-dollar payment to the untraceable Dermalógica Institute. She believes money has been siphoned out of the House of Hurst account for months—make that years—and is doing an investigation. All fingers point to Kendra, but it’s yet to be proven. I’m hoping her suspicions are confirmed and give Roman just cause to dissolve his partnership with that dragon lady.
Close to the completion of both collections, I’m about to take a quick nap before dinner when I get a surprise email from Roman.
Subject: Met Exhibition
Sofi~
Exciting news! The Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art wants to feature one of my iconic vintage gowns in their next exhibition. I’d like you to help me pick one out. Meet me in the basement at six p.m.
~Roman
PS. Please take the elevator directly there as I’m planning a surprise for you in my atelier and don’t want you to see it.
My skin prickles with excitement. While I wish it were one of my hand-painted butterfly-inspired gowns from his new collection, what an honor it is to have one of his gowns included in the prestigious annual event. And I’m thrilled that Roman has asked me to help choose one. I’ve never been in the basement nor seen the sample gowns he stores there. The ones Ava inspired. A shiver shimmies down my spine, but dissipates when curiosity takes center stage.
What kind of surprise does my beautiful Blue Morpho have in store for me?