I spun around, my insides unspooling when I saw Sebastian smiling down at me. For once, he’d tamed his hair into a relatively neat coif, though a thick lock had escaped sometime during the night. It flopped over his forehead, framing his sculpted cheekbones and warm amber eyes. He wore a custom cream sherwani that complemented the rich gold and orange of my bridal lehenga perfectly, and he looked so devastating that it took my breath away.
“Yes, actually. My husband seems to have disappeared. Any chance you know where he is?” I asked innocently.
My husband.I was getting used to the new term, but I liked it. A lot.
“He left you alone at your own reception?” He shook his head. “What an asshole.”
I bit back a laugh. “You said it. Not me.”
“If he was stupid enough to let you out of his sight for one second, he doesn’t deserve you—even if his friends threatened totoss him in the lake if he didn’t drink with them.”
“Is that what you were up to?” I teased, dropping our act.
“Unfortunately. I indulged them for one round, and then I came to find you. You’re better company. Much smarter and prettier, too. Not a lot of people can claim to be a Hall of Famer.”
I flushed with pleasure. I’d recently been inducted into the World Marketing Association’s Hall of Fame for my “extraordinary contributions to the field” over the years. Only active professionals who’d won awards in at least two of their categories (like the Gastronomic Event of the Year and International Marketing Excellence Award) were eligible. There were a host of other considerations, and I’d secretly hoped but never dared dream I’d get the distinction. As it stood, I was the youngest Hall of Fame inductee in their sixty-year history.
I didn’t crave external validation anymore. That said, it felt damn good to receive recognition for years’ worth of work and not just a specific win. It meant my accomplishments weren’t a fluke.
“A smooth talkeranda smart man.” A thrill ran through me when Sebastian took my hand and guided me to the nearby dance floor. “I was getting a little lonely, but I guess you can make it up to me during our honeymoon in…” I trailed off expectantly.
A humoring smile pulled on his lips. “Nice try, Sal, but you’re the one who wanted it to be a surprise. You’re not getting a single spoiler out of me.”
I pouted, but he had a point.
I’d given Sebastian full permission to plan our honeymoon as he saw fit. I was usually the one who organized our trips because it was fun, and I was picky about certain things (like the thread count on the sheets and the brand of hair dryer in the hotel bathroom), but I’d been so swamped with the wedding that he’d offered to take over honeymoon planning duties.
It was so liberating not having to worry about the details thatI’d asked him to keep the entire trip a surprise. He’d taken my wish and run with it, only sharing important details like the dates and what I should pack.
I had no idea where we were going. I just knew we’d be visiting five destinations over the course of a month, and that all five would involve a lot of food and sex. It sounded like heaven.
Sebastian didn’t say it, but I suspected the extravagant trip was also his way of thanking me for solving the letter mystery, once and for all. I’d respected his wishes and stayed away from Christian, but I’d tracked down Neville myself using our school’s alumni network. He was happily married now, and I’d told him he couldremainhappily married if he admitted the truth. Otherwise, I’d tell his wife about his creepy, stalkerish past.
He’d caved faster than a wet cardboard box. Long story short, he’d volunteered in the school’s administrative office and secretly gotten access to the master code for all student lockers. He’d been incredibly jealous of Sebastian, who was everything he wasn’t—popular, good-looking, a hit with the girls—and when he saw him leaving the letter in my locker, he’d intercepted it before I saw it. He’d read it on the spot, as I’d predicted, but when he saw me coming down the hall, he’d panicked and shoved it blindly back into the locker.
The forged response was his way of knocking Sebastian down a peg. He’d traced over my signature using my school documents from the admin office, and he’d pulled Sebastian away when he’d tried to talk to me before graduation because he’d been afraid Sebastian would ask me about the letter. He hadn’t wanted us tofigure out what he’d done while we were still at school.
It was a stupid scheme carried out by a stupid teenager. I would’ve been more upset had things not turned out so well for Sebastian and me. As it stood, I chalked his actions up to the dumb recklessness of youth and moved on…afterI called our school’s head of alumni relations. Most schools would’ve laughed at such a seemingly small, decades-old transgression, but ours took their reputation seriously—and the generous donations from both my family and the Laurents even more seriously. The alumni relations head had been so appalled that they’d blacklisted Neville from the school’s powerful alumni network.
When I told Sebastian, he said he’d make some calls of his own. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask, but when I checked on Neville again, he was no longer the president of his company.
“Do you think Bobby can handle the pressure while you’re gone?” I asked now.
Bobby was Sebastian’s protégé. After learning so much underMargaux’s mentorship, Sebastian wanted to pay it forward, so he’d taken the twenty-five-year-old chef under his wing. Bobby was a little intense, but he was also enormously talented and dedicated to Nouvelle Époque. He worshiped Sebastian, who’d put him in charge of the restaurant while we were on our honeymoon.
“I’m sure he can. If not, Margaux will be there to guide him—though he’ll wish she wasn’t. She’s tougher than me,” Sebastian said. “Things should be fine, as long as… you know.”
Neither of us verbalized what we were secretly dreading—that a Michelin inspector would show up during his absence.
Despite Sebastian’s initial fears, NouvelleÉpoque was a massive success. I’d always known it would be, but it was gratifying to see the critics and regular diners alike agree.
He’d earned his first Michelin star late last year, but now he had tokeepthat star and, hopefully, earn the remaining two. It was a never-ending cycle of stress and anticipation, and I didn’t take his willingness to step away from work for a full month so we could have a proper honeymoon for granted.
I’d told him a month was too long and that we could cut it down to a week, but he’d insisted.
“I didn’t wait this long to marry you only to skimp on the honeymoon,” was all he’d said when I brought it up.
“Don’t worry,” Sebastian said now as my brow creased. “I’ll get the full stars, one way or another. If not this year, then the next.”
