A few minutes later, she excused herself to the restroom.
As soon as she was gone, her phone buzzed again. The screen lit up with a new message.
I shouldn’t have looked.
But I did.
The message was from someone named Hugo, and even though most of it was in French, I could see my name in the text.
Something about that didn’t sit well with me.
I quickly pulled out my phone, took a photo of the message, and opened a translation app.
The French text converted to English on my screen:
Thanks babe for telling me all the secrets of this campaign. Now it’s time to steal the job from Mark! I owe you an all-you-can-shop date. But limited to 100 euros.
The message was followed by a kiss emoji and a wink.
My blood ran cold.
When Simone returned, I was still staring at my phone, rage building in my chest.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, sliding back into her seat.
“Who’s Hugo?”
Her eyes widened slightly. “What?”
“The message on your phone. From Hugo. Who is he?”
She laughed nervously, reaching for her phone. “Oh, that’s just an old flame. He wants to hook up. You know how it is.”
She leaned forward, her hand finding mine across the table. “Are you jealous, Mark? You look so cute when you’re jealous.”
“Jealous? For you?” I pulled my hand back. “You’re out of your mind.”
I showed her my phone with the translated message.
“Who are you giving all our inside information to? And who’s trying to steal my job?”
Simone’s flirtatious smile vanished. She sighed, sitting back in her chair.
“Hugo,” she said. “We hook up sometimes. He’s in advertising, and he wants to move up in marketing. He told me to get as much information from you as possible about what Lucien wants from this lipstick campaign.” She shrugged. “It’s the biggest launch in Paris fashion and cosmetics this year. Hugo wants to get in on it.”
I stared at her, fury and disgust warring in my chest.
This woman—this woman I’d thought about for almost a year, this woman I’d used as an excuse to open my marriage—had been using me the entire time.
“You—” I started.
“Oh my God!”
Simone was looking out the window, her mouth hanging open.
“Don’t change the subject,” I snapped.
“No, Mark, look!” She pointed.
