Disavow (The Dumonts #3) - Karina Halle Page 0,101
my father in every way that counts and that my girls have grown up feeling nothing but love and support and encouragement.
And so we laugh. We laugh and cry, and we stick through the ups and downs and ebbs and flows of life together. Sometimes it’s hard having to be the head of the company, and the work does take me away from the girls more than I’d like. But we make do with it, and I always make it up to them.
Like now.
I’ve been working like a fiend all summer leading up to Paris Fashion Week, and now that the shows are behind us for now, I arranged for us to come to the family estate in Mallorca for a two-week-long vacation. We haven’t been back as often as we’ve wanted—considering how special this place is to Gabrielle and me—so now we’re making up for it.
We’re not alone either. Obviously Cadence and Adele are here with us. But so are Seraphine and Blaise and their daughter, who have been here for a few days now. And earlier today, Renaud and his wife, Jen, as well as Olivier, Sadie, and their twin boys, Damon and Ludovic, showed up. I hadn’t seen them for a year, so it was a long time coming.
I see Seraphine and Blaise often, though. Seraphine is still the CEO of her own clothing line and works out of Paris now. Blaise is the COO at Dumont. I really didn’t think he’d come back, and it took me practically wooing him for a few years until he relented. Okay, so first it was Gabrielle nagging me for months that I needed to swallow my pride and ask Blaise to come back. It might have taken a year for me to finally work up the nerve. But now, everything is fine.
I mean, he still gets on my fucking nerves, and he never lets anything bother him, especially the things that should bother him. But I’m glad I have him by my side.
Most of the time.
From the kitchen downstairs, I hear the dinner bell ring out.
“Time to go,” I say to Gabrielle as I quickly smooth on moisturizer, then come out to get her. She’s already rolled on her side, so I grab her by the elbows and gently haul her to her feet.
“You okay?” I ask, leaning down quickly to kiss her on the top of the head.
“I’m good,” she says, smiling up at me. I smooth the hair away from her face. “I’m glad Seraphine’s maternity wear is made for real women.” She runs her hands over the sides of her dress. “Unlike the Dumont brand,” she adds with a smirk.
“We’re working on it,” I tell her.
“Yeah. You’ll get there once you carry more than small, medium, and large, right?”
“Change comes slowly in the fashion world,” I remind her.
“Bullshit,” she says. “You have to be the change if you want to see the change. Until you do, I’ll be shopping at your cousin’s store exclusively.”
She sashays out of the room, and I shake my head. She’s always teasing me about how archaic we are with the brand. In some ways, we’re exactly the way Ludovic always dreamed we would be: stuck in our ways, sticking with the classics, refusing to evolve. But I also know evolution will happen when it’s time.
I quickly catch up to her and grab her hand, kissing the soft skin on top of it, and we make our way down the hall and the stairs.
We pass by the kitchen, which has a maid and two cooks running around trying to get everything ready. I smile and nod, trying not to distract them. I used to compliment the head chef, Paula, but she seems to take it as an insult, so I’ve stopped trying.
This time, she waves a serving spoon at us to keep on walking.
Outside, tables are set up on the beach, one for the adults, one for the kids. They’re covered in white linen tablecloths (from our recently opened home collection, one of the few good ideas Blaise has had), with large shells and candles as centerpieces (a craft project started and then quickly abandoned by Cadence and finished by Gabrielle).
Everyone is already sitting down, and it looks like Gabrielle and I are the last to arrive.
“We figured you were having a nap,” Seraphine says to us as she pours the kids drinks at the kids’ table. “I swear, every day I’m here with you, Gabby, you’re getting bigger and bigger.”