Amelia stopped mid-application. She capped the lipstick, dropped it in her bag, and walked over to me.
Her expression was completely neutral. Detached.
“Mark, sweetie, what’s wrong with me dating two men in an open marriage?” She tilted her head. “You can date two women as well. That’s not a problem.”
“See, Amelia, that’s the problem. I don’t want to date two women. In fact, I don’t want to date ANY women.”
“You mean you want to date men?” she asked with a straight face.
“What? No! That’s not what I meant!”
“Amelia, honey, look at me. Sit down here.” I took her shoulders gently and guided her to the couch. “Please.”
She looked irritated and glanced at her watch.
“Mark, I’ve had a long day and I’m tired. I’m meeting Lucien tomorrow—”
“Amelia, just hear me out. Please.” I grabbed her hands, not caring how desperate I sounded. “I cannot live without you. I’m so sorry for lying to you about Simone. I can beg if you want me to. But please, please, let’s end this open marriage thing right now.”
Amelia took my hands off her shoulders and spoke slowly, like she was explaining something to a child.
“Mark, it’s not about Simone anymore. You did what you had to. And right now, you’re just getting jealous because I’m getting dates and you’re not. Just relax. Maybe it’s a slow week. I’m sure you’ll get more dates next week.”
She was completely unreachable. Like she’d become a different person—more confident, not at all needy, not interested in me at all.
The Amelia I knew would have melted at my apology. Would have wrapped her arms around me and forgiven me instantly.
This Amelia looked at me like I was an inconvenience.
She kissed my cheek—a quick, perfunctory peck.
“Mark, I’m really sorry, but I’m exhausted. Can we talk later?”
“Amelia, wait—”
“Goodnight, Mark.”
And with that, she disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.
CHAPTER 17
Amelia
Lucien’s hand was warm and steady as he helped me out of his luxury car.
My lips felt swollen, thoroughly kissed. My hair was tousled, falling in messy waves around my shoulders. And my skirt—God, my skirt had ridden up so high during the drive that it was practically at my panties.
I stumbled slightly on my heels, and Lucien caught me, that knowing smile playing at his lips.
“Sorry,” I said, quickly adjusting my skirt. “I must look completely disheveled.”
“You look absolutely gorgeous.” Lucien’s voice was low, appreciative. “The ‘I don’t care’ look is incredibly sexy on you, ma chérie.”
Heat crept up my neck. The last two days with Lucien had been... extraordinary.
Couple’s massages at Paris’s most exclusive spa, where attendants catered to our every whim. Long, steamy sex sessions at his penthouse that left me boneless and satisfied in ways I didn’t know were possible. And through it all, being treated like royalty. Like a queen.
Everywhere we went, there was staff. An entourage that materialized to fulfill my every wish before I could even voice it. Lucien made it his sole mission to ensure I had everything.
