Page 165 of The Substitute Fiancée

“We’ve already lost enough time,” I reply, brushing her cheek. “I want to wake up with you every morning. I want this penthouse to be our home. I want to build a life with you.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips.

“Okay,” she says simply.

“Okay?”

“Yes. I’ll move in with you.”

55. Opening Reception

Samantha

When I step out of the bathroom wrapped in my bath towel, Alexander is finishing fastening his cufflinks—the ones I gave him for his IPO. With a smooth motion, he opens the wardrobe and pulls out a black fabric garment bag.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“A surprise,” he replies with an enigmatic smile.

I place it on the bed and open it carefully. Inside is a stunning draped gown in black lace and silk, signed Yves Saint Laurent.

“You went completely overboard!”

“You need a special outfit to mark the occasion.”

“Thank you. I love it.”

I kiss him softly on the lips before stepping back to put it on. Alexander helps me zip it up. His hands linger on my skin. I smile.

The dress is magnificent. It enhances my curves and gives me the bearing of a goddess.

“No,” he says, as if I’d spoken out loud. “You’re the one who’s magnificent, Sam.”

He smiles at me through the mirror and adds, “I’m starting to know you, that’s all. And I’ll tell you you’re beautiful as many times as it takes for you to believe it.”

Then he leans in and kisses my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glint of light before his arm slips in front of me and something cool settles against my skin. Stunned, I discover a breathtaking diamond necklace: delicate flowers sparkling brilliantly, ending in a larger teardrop-shaped gem.

“I wanted to mark this evening,” he says simply, holding my emotional gaze in the mirror.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yes. About you.”

I turn toward him and kiss him gently on the lips.

I don’t try to reason with him. He’s happy to shower me with gifts, and after all those years of coming second to my sister, I’m happy to finally be someone’s priority.

“Thank you.”

We don’t deepen the kiss. There’s no time for that. Not tonight. Still, I savor a few extra seconds in his arms.

*

We arrive at the Levasseur Gallery about thirty minutes later. We shake hands with Cédric Levasseur, then with Lyne, his secretary. Our friends arrive almost immediately—first Emelyne, Mara, and Matthieu. Then Florence, David, Manon, and Oliver.

My parents won’t be coming.

That’s okay. I’ve mourned that relationship. You can’t force people to love you.