Before Florin could answer, the hostess approached our booth, leading someone behind her.
An older man appeared—and my heart stood still for a moment.
He was extremely handsome, maybe mid-forties, with silver hair perfectly styled back from his face. Tall, easily six-two, with a muscular build evident even under his impeccably tailored charcoal suit. He carried an air of authority I’d rarely seen, the kind of presence that made everyone in the café turn to look.
The hostess and staff clearly knew him, greeting him with respectful nods as he passed.
Florin jumped out of his seat and embraced the man warmly. Then he turned to me, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Amelia, this is my brother, Lucien Blanchet.”
Lucien looked at me with warm, dark eyes and a smile that made my stomach flutter. “Bonjour, Amelia.”
He came closer, and in the French way, kissed both my cheeks. His cologne was subtle and expensive, and up close I could see laugh lines around his eyes that only added to his appeal.
I was sure I’d seen him before. The name was familiar in a way that nagged at the back of my mind.
And then it hit me.
Oh God.
This was THE Lucien Blanchet—CEO of Beauté Éternelle. Mark’s boss.
My husband’s boss was Florin’s brother.
I felt a weird kind of excitement thinking I’m sitting across from the man responsible for our entire move from suburban New Jersey to the glittering streets of Paris. I smiled as Lucien sat down across from us, his movements graceful and confident.
“So, Amelia,” Florin began, leaning forward eagerly. “I showed my brother some of my latest works, and—”
“And,” Lucien interrupted gently, his voice deep and melodic with that French accent, “I have not seen anyone more beautifully captured on canvas as you. You are the true picture of a real woman.”
His eyes held mine, and I felt heat creep up my neck.
“The moment I saw your painting,” Lucien continued, “I knew you were the one I’d been looking for. A true woman. A woman worth fighting the world for.”
The intensity in his gaze made my heart flutter and my knees wobble a bit.
“My brother has a proposition for you,” Florin said, unable to contain his excitement.
Lucien’s smile widened slightly. “How would you feel about being the face for the world’s biggest cosmetics brand? If you say yes, you would be signed for a photoshoot for our new lipstick line. The photos don’t need to be nude,” he added quickly. “But I need to capture that face of yours. That mesmerizing, real beauty.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some kind of mistake.
“I... I don’t know what to say,” I managed.
Lucien’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing with concern. He reached across the table and took my hand in his. His touch sent tingles spreading through my body—warm, strong fingers enveloping mine.
“What happened?” he asked softly, searching my face. “What’s wrong?”
I bit my lip, my mind racing. This was Mark’s boss, talking about the campaign Mark had been struggling with. And right now, he was asking me to be the face of that campaign.
I took a breath, knowing I had to be honest.
“Lucien,” I said quietly. “You need to know this... I’m Mark Davis’s wife.”
Lucien’s smile reached all the way to the corners of his cheeks. “Amelia, I already know. I looked you up. And I also know,” he glanced at his brother and then back at me, “from my brother, and from the grapevine in the office, that you and Mark are in an open marriage.”
