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Back The Shoe Queen
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. “And may I say, those shoes are adorable.”
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. ( I )
  7. ( one )
  8. ( two )
  9. ( three )
  10. ( four )
  11. ( five )
  12. ( six )
  13. ( seven )
  14. ( eight )
  15. ( nine )
  16. ( ten )
  17. ( II )
  18. ( eleven )
  19. ( twelve )
  20. ( thirteen )
  21. ( fourteen )
  22. ( fifteen )
  23. ( III )
  24. ( sixteen )
  25. ( seventeen )
  26. ( eighteen )
  27. ( nineteen )
  28. ( IV )
  29. ( twenty )
  30. ( twenty-one )
  31. ( twenty-two )
  32. ( twenty-three )
  33. ( twenty-four )
  34. ( V )
  35. ( twenty-five )
  36. ( twenty-six )
  37. ( twenty-seven )
  38. ( twenty-eight )
  39. ( twenty-nine )
  40. VI
  41. ( thirty )
  42. ( thirty-one )
  43. ( thirty-two )
  44. ( thirty-three )
  45. ( thirty-four )
  46. ( VII )
  47. ( thirty-five )
  48. ( thirty-six )
  49. ( thirty-seven )
  50. ( thirty-eight )
  51. ( thirty-nine )
  52. ( forty )
  53. ( forty-one )
  54. ( forty-two )
  55. ( VIII )
  56. ( forty-three )
  57. ( forty-four )
  58. ( forty-five )
  59. ( forty-six )
  60. ( forty-seven )
  61. ( forty-eight )
  62. ( forty-nine )
  63. ( fifty )
  64. ( fifty-one )
  65. Acknowledgments
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. Questions for Discussion

She kept her eyes on her feet while removing her shoes, dimly aware that he was moving about the room, bolting the front door. An odd flutter of nerves went through her when it came to removing her stockings. She wouldn’t have thought they would need to come off for his purposes—and if they really had to be removed, shouldn’t she be shown to a changing room? She was damned if she was going to be coy about this, though. And presumably Violet de Frémont had been given the same treatment. What was good enough for the countess…

Not knowing whether or not Zachari was watching her, having to trust solely in his professionalism, Genevieve lifted her skirt and unbuttoned the suspender on her right thigh. Slowly, she rolled the stocking down and slipped it off, then started on the left. The wood floor was cold under her feet. She felt shy, as though more than just the legs, under the Paul Poiret dress, were naked. Unconsciously she curled her toes.

“Are you cold?” came Zachari’s voice. She detected a faint smoky odor, and saw, when she looked up, that he was sitting just across the room in a Napoleon III chair, smoking a cigarette. He’d cast the formality aside now like an old coat, and had become casual almost to the point of insolence. He had, would you believe it, his right leg slung over the arm of the chair and was lolling back, his head to one side.

“Not at all.” And indeed the room was, if anything, rather warm. “I’m ready to be measured.”

“I’d like you to walk for me.” Zachari gestured with his right hand, still holding the cigarette, indicating that she should go up to the mirror at the far end of the room, and back. “And stop clenching your toes.”

Genevieve looked down at her toes and worked hard at relaxing them. Standing up, she realized she was afraid of disappointing him. Starting her walk to the mirror, she felt she was on a tightrope. Shoulders back, head straight, remembering those deportment lessons, the feel of the book on her head, the need to keep perfect balance. Arriving at the mirror, she glimpsed her flushed face, her whiter-than-white legs, her expression of vague discomfort. Then she turned and walked back.

Zachari smiled lazily. “Now do it again, but naturally. You look like you’ve got a rod stuck up your back.”

Anger flashed, and she had to work hard to suppress it and keep her concentration on her walking.

“And again,” he said when she got back to him. “In fact, just keep on walking up and down the room until I tell you to stop.”