Lucien’s smile turned knowing. “I mean, the perfect woman for my campaign.”
He paused, giving me time to take in the madness.
“And maybe, if she agrees, the perfect woman to date.”
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. Swirls of jealousy and regret and embarrassment crashed over me in waves.
My boss knew Amelia and I were in an open marriage. And now he not only wanted Amelia to be the face of the campaign I was supposed to be running, but he also wanted to date her.
“Did you ask Amelia if she wants to be part of the campaign?” I managed, though I already knew the answer.
“Of course, Mark. I asked her.” Lucien returned to his desk, his movements unhurried. “And she said yes.”
“But since she’s still dating my brother,” Lucien continued, “I have to ask her if she’ll go out with me. Or, if she prefers, if she’d like to go out with both of us.” His smile was pleasant, professional. “Whatever the lady prefers.”
He leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious.
“I hope it won’t affect our professional relationship, Mark.”
Then his voice dropped to almost a growl. “Because it shouldn’t.”
I sat frozen, my mind reeling.
I would have to plan an entire campaign around Amelia. I’d been too foolish to see her worth. Too blind to realize she could set the world on fire if she wanted to.
And that’s when I realized: When I’d proposed opening our marriage, I’d never—not in a million years—thought Amelia would actually go out with anyone. I’d always assumed she’d be waiting for me. Thatshe’d maybe go on a few obligatory dates to keep things “fair,” but ultimately she’d be there, constant and unchanging, when I was ready to come back to her.
I never imagined it would be me waiting for Amelia to return.
And now it was too late.
Amelia was going to be the face of the world’s most sought-after lipstick brand while I stood in the sidelines, planning a campaign centered around the woman I’d lost.
I could never compete with a billionaire like Lucien or a world-famous artist like Florin.
I’d destroyed my marriage for nothing.
Back at the apartment, I paced the living room like a caged animal.
That was it. No more games. No more pride.
If I needed to beg for Amelia’s forgiveness, I would. I’d get on my knees if that’s what it took. I’d confess everything—that the open marriage had been about sleeping with Simone without the guilt of cheating. That I’d been a manipulative, selfish bastard who didn’t deserve her.
I’d tell her—
A car engine roared outside.
I rushed to the window and my stomach dropped.
Lucien’s sleek, black Bugatti La Voiture Noire was parked outside. There were only three in Paris, and everyone at the office knew Lucien owned one. I’d always wanted to ride in that car, had fantasized about what it would feel like to have that kind of wealth, that kind of power.
And now my own wife was stepping out of it.
Lucien came around to her door and held out his hand. Amelia took it, emerging from the low-slung car with practiced grace.
She looked stunning in the golden sunset light. She was wearing a figure-hugging satin blouse in cream and a beautiful navy blue skirt that showed off her curves. She already looked like she belonged on magazine covers and not in this rental apartment.
Lucien leaned close and kissed her cheek, then whispered something in her ear.
