Exclusive excerpt from The Paris Daughter

Prologue

RUE CAMBON, PARIS, AUGUST 1937

Evelina tucked the champagne glass close to her body as she admired the bold design, her bold design, on the mannequin wearing her dress. It was the very !rst time she’d shown a collec‐ tion, the doors to the apartment !rmly shut to ensure that only invited guests could see what was on display. The shimmering silk and intricate buttons of each dress were being studied and admired by those gathered, and she couldn’t help but smile when she overheard one of the men describe her dresses as breathtaking. She’d wondered if she’d ever be able to step out from the shadow of her husband, but if tonight was an indication of her future success... she breathed deeply, a smile touching her lips again as she sipped her champagne. Ex- husband. Sometimes she couldn’t help but think of him, but Théo was firmly in her past now. She’d received their divorce papers almost one year ago, and even though he’d screamed at her that she’d never succeed without him, now it was he who was struggling to keep the doors to his fashion empire open. She hadn’t wanted him not to succeed, but if it had to be a competition between the two of them, then so be it.

She looked around, reminding herself of just how far she’d come, of the odds she’d overcome to succeed on her own. The entire evening was almost impossible to believe: the culmination of months of work and a little luck, but it had been worthy of every sacrifice. There had been times she’d worried whether she could truly make a name for herself—whether someone like her would ever be accepted, especially with Théo’s words echoing in her mind, haunting her—but tonight, she wholeheartedly, finally, felt as if she belonged.

Evelina slipped from the room and disappeared onto the narrow balcony, lighting a cigarette and taking a moment to stare out at the skyline. She never took the beauty of Paris for granted, and on a night such as this, she wanted to reflect on the years it had taken to get to this moment.

As Evelina lifted her cigarette and placed it between her lips, she felt a gentle pressure at the small of her back. She turned, surprised that anyone present would touch her so intimately, and through a haze of smoke she met the eyes of a man she’d noticed inside earlier, his dark blond hair neatly combed, and his eyes a vivid blue. When he smiled, she found she couldn’t look away.

‘Evelina Lavigne,’ he said, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’