“The closet.”
“A little too on-point, don’t you think?” Gabriel counters. “And why? We’re supposed to be dating. You being in here isn’t scandalous.”
“But I said this would be professional,” I argue and stand up, grabbing my pants.
There’s more pounding on the door.
Gabriel lets out a typical Parisienne ‘pft’ sound and he reaches out to help me up. “J’arrive!Attendez une minute, Papa!” Gabriel yells in French and I know enough to know he’s telling his dad to hold on a minute.
We rush around the apartment, grabbing clothes and throwing ourselves into them. I end up in his shirt, and he’s in mine, which is inside out. I only have one sock. He’s barefoot as he runs a hand through his hair and reaches for the door. I am already the color of a fire engine when Louis walks in, followed by Damien.
Both do a stutter-step as they see me leaning casually against the door frame to the bedroom part of the suite. I have my arms crossed, bruised shoulder against the door frame, and legs crossed, sockless foot over socked one. I must look like a fucking lunatic.
"Axel," Louis says my name pointedly and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“He decided to swing by early, so we could talk about strategy,” Gabriel lies so easily I almost believe him. “You know, where we’ll pop up together next.”
“I suppose that would be your honeymoon,” Damien says, pulling his phone out of his suit pocket and tapping it a couple times before holding it up, screen out.
There, in big bold print, is a list of Google search results for Gabriel Allard. And every single headline includes the word “Married” and my name. I stop breathing. I mean, literally. My lungs have been dipped in quick-dry cement. Gabriel leans in, eyes narrowed, and then he plucks the phone from Damien and taps one of the links. It’s Perez Hilton’s site and a video at the top of the article instantly starts playing. It’s Gabe and me at the altar, making out and laughing and being cheered on wildly by everyone.
“Oh, yeah,” Gabriel nods. “About that…”
“You gotmarried?" Louis is talking to me, not his son. In fact, he sidesteps Gabriel to stand in front of me. I'm taller than him, by a lot, but I feel much smaller right now.
“No. Not technically… sir.” Did I just ‘sir’ him? Yesterday I was calling him Louis. Now he’s sir? I gulp. “It was a commitment ceremony.”
“It looks like a wedding but with no legal documents,” Gabriel explains.
“Oh my fucking God,” Damien hisses. He turns to me, pointing a chubby finger at my face. “You’re fired.”
Oh shit.
Gabriel steps between Damien’s hand and my face. “No! He’s not. And fuck you, you’re fired.”
“Nobody is fired!” Louis bellows and turns away from me. He runs his hands through his silvery hair as he paces in front of the oval coffee table, whispering to himself in French.
I’ve righted myself, giving up on the uncasual lean in the doorway, and watch Louis, every muscle in my body tight like an overturned piano. Gabriel steps away from Damien and moves to stand next to me in the doorway, taking my hand in his own. He laces his fingers through mine and I feel slightly better. It gives me the courage to speak.
"Look, I know that the confusion around this isn't ideal. It's another mess to explain away," I start and pause to clear my throat as Louis stops pacing and stands ramrod straight, hands clenching the lapels of his blazer while he glares at me. "It looks spontaneous and irrational, but if it also looks authentic, people won't mind. If we don't call it off or backtrack, the public will cheer for it, just like Billy and the others did."
“And is it? Authentic?” Louis demands, his eyes now on his son. He’s searching his face for visual confirmation, not just the words Gabe’s about to say.
“Yes. Sort of,” Gabriel replies, shocking me. “I mean, it could, maybe, be real if it didn’t have to be fake.”
“Well it has to be fake,” Damien points out and glares at me. “You agreed to fake. You signed an NDA. Your career—”
“I’m not going to do anything that makes Gabe look bad,” I announce and feel my cheeks heat when I look at his father and see his hazel eyes are focused on the carpet in the bedroom. Because I think the condom from last night is still lying there.
Gabriel glances over his shoulder and then reaches back and pulls the door to the bedroom closed. “Listen, both of you, nothing has changed. This isn’t a catastrophe. If anything, it gives everyone more reason to stop talking about the woman’s accusation.”
“False accusation,” I add, and Gabriel gives me a soft, grateful smile.
“Yeah but you two getting divorced in a couple weeks is going to create a new scandal,” Damien barks, and he’s glaring at me again.
I realize, with a cold, sobering clarity that it’s only my career that’s going to get fucked by this. My life. Again. Because of a guy. If this ends. I meanwhen… right? Because it has to. Doesn’t it?
“Okay. It’s done,” Louis says quietly and he starts to pace again. This time, when he shoots me a quick glance, it’s not nearly as menacing as it was. In fact, it’s kind of… normal. “So now we move on. They’ll ask you about it, Gabriel. A lot. And Axel, they’re going to want to know more about you. We’ll have to set up an interview or something with you.”
