Our match would make my parents very happy.
What I feel for Laura is just residual lust. That’s not a good basis for a lifelong relationship. The reason I got so wrapped upin her is simply because I’d never been with a woman like her before. She was an anomaly. A minority report. The exception that proved the rule. It wasn’t her intrinsic nature that seduced me. It wasn’t her unexpectedly fun personality, or her subtle humor, or how sweetly hot she was. It was the novelty. She was my first lover with a background radically different from mine.
All this thinking about her, the longing, is just an echo of the allure of uncharted waters. Because that’s all it was. A textbook case of the grass being greener on the other side.
I’ve grazed that grass now. It’s time to move on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ANTOINE
The gardens of Château de Bellay are beautiful all year round. But in summer, with all the different varieties of roses in full bloom, they’re unmatched. It’s no wonder my parents hold their receptions and dinner parties here from May to September whenever the weather permits.
The brunch table is set with fine bone china arranged on crisp white linen. The silverware shines as if under military inspection. My parents are seated at each end. Celeste’s mother, Marie-Louise, is in the middle of the long side. The empty seat next to her is for the prime minister. He’s sent word that he’ll be delayed, and that we should begin without him.
Celeste is next to me, radiant with the post-ride glow.
“You’ve done an exceptional job with the Bellay Enterprises, Antoine,” Marie-Louise says. “Your family’s legacy is in good hands.”
I incline my head. “Thank you, Lady d’Alenq. It’s a privilege to build on my parents’ work.”
“But that’s not your biggest achievement,” Father jumps in.
Ardent royalist that he is, I already know what he’s going to say next.
He turns to Marie-Louise. “Like Henri and your son Jonas, Antoine’s greatest legacy will always be that he served the Crown and the country honorably by finding a lost Montevor key.”
Marie Louise nods. “Both our houses rose to the occasion and proved themselves worthy of their noble titles. Imagine everything we could achieve together!”
Her gaze darts to Celeste who glances at me.
“I must admit,” Mother says, “it’s a huge relief that Antoine broke the mold, like Darrel Vlovsky before him, and didn’t marry his Key to the Key.”
Father smiles. “Our prayers were heard.”
“No doubt,” Marie-Louise agrees. “It would’ve been a shame if the future Count de Bellay had married a foreign commoner just because she happened to be his Key to the Key.”
“May I remind everyone,” Celeste says sweetly, “that all three Montevor princes married foreign commoners?”
The silence that falls over the table is delicious.
“That’s not entirely accurate,” Mother says, shifting in her seat. “Prince Arnaud’s Key to the Key, Alexandra de Croy is not a commoner. She’s an authentic French aristocrat,noblesseancien régime.”
Marie-Louise waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, we mean no disrespect to any Key to the Key, of course! After all, my son married a foreign commoner of his own.”
“As did I,” I say.
The table freezes up. I feel a pang of shame seeing the horrified expressions on my parents’ and Celeste’s faces. Deadpan jokes had always been Henri’s exclusive prerogative. Clearly, my entourage isn’t ready for me to make one at this time—or on this subject.
“I’m referring to my TV marriage,” I hasten to add. “It’s over now. Laura and I are officially divorced.”
The tension shatters into polite laughter.
Marie-Louise beams. “You’re such a tease, Antoine! Celeste values wit above all else in a man. Don’t you, dear?”
Her daughter nods, visibly uncomfortable.
Marie-Louise leans toward me. “Did she sign the divorce papers easily?”
