“So…” I started.
“So…?” Luciene asked.
“So…you don’t think that would be a problem?” I asked.
“Oh Amelia, you being Mark’s wife should have nothing to do with your decision about this campaign.” Luciene said.
I shifted on the couch, millions of thoughts crossing my mind at once.
“Amelia,” he continued, his voice dropping lower. “This is business. You are perfect for this campaign—not because you’re Mark’s wife, but because you embody everything we’re trying to capture. Real beauty. Real confidence. Real feminine power.”
He leaned closer, still holding my hand.
“And if your husband is foolish enough to be in an open marriage with a woman like you,” he added, his dark eyes intense, “then perhaps he deserves to feel a bit uncomfortable when his boss recognizes your worth.”
Florin was looking between us with growing understanding. “You like her too,” he said to his brother. “Don’t you?”
Lucien smiled, not taking his eyes off me. “How could I not? She’s extraordinary.”
My heart was racing. This was insane. Mark’s boss and Mark’s boss’s brother—both of them looking at me like I was something precious.
“I need to think about this,” I said, my voice shaky.
“Of course,” Lucien said immediately. “Take all the time you need. But Amelia?” He squeezed my hand gently. “Don’t let your husband’s inability to see your value determine your own worth. You deserve to be celebrated. To be seen. To be worshiped for the masterpiece you are.”
And looking into Lucien Blanchet’s dark eyes, I almost believed him.
CHAPTER 16
Mark
Lucien was practically glowing as I sat down across from his massive desk. He had that satisfied smile of someone who’d just won something he’d been chasing for a long time.
“Mark, wonderful news,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair. “I’ve finally found the perfect face for our lipstick campaign.”
Relief flooded through me. “That’s excellent! Who showed you the model? Which agency—”
“She’s not from an agency.” Lucien’s smile widened. “She’s a true woman. Someone who doesn’t have to try hard to embrace her sensuality, her femininity. Someone who is confident exactly as she is.” He paused, his dark eyes gleaming. “Someone who may be someone’s wife, girlfriend, or mother, but whose biggest identity is simply being herself.”
I nodded enthusiastically, my mind already racing. Maybe Simone’s boyfriend Hugo stepped in and showed him a model. Or maybe—
“The model is your wife, Mark. Amelia.”
The world stopped.
“What?” The word came out as barely a whisper.
“You heard that right.” Lucien stood and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “It’s Amelia. I just met her a couple of hours ago through my brother, Florin.”
My blood ran cold. “Your brother?”
“You know Florin, right? The artist Amelia is dating because you wanted an open marriage?” He actually air-quoted “open marriage,” his tone dripping with irony. “Well, it seems your open marriage idea was such a blessing for me and my company. Who would have thought that one little idea would give the world a fresh, new face?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Because of your idea,” Lucien continued, turning to face me, “I have found the perfect woman.”
I raised an eyebrow, a spark of something—fear, jealousy, anger—igniting in my chest.
