Page 13 of French Martini

I nod. “Have you talked to Wren yet, Salem?”

“No. I told him to hit me up when he takes a break. He’s teaching the staff a few new specials for January.”

“Okay.” Normally I have a million tasks floating in my head at any given moment, but right now all I can think about is facing Alain and that entire world of people I left behind in Paris. Am I ready for this?

“You okay, man?” Indy asks.

“I’m pissed. I should be over this by now. I shouldn’t care what Alain or any of those people think of my life, but I do. Now I’m affecting a friend too.”

“My guy,” Ridley says with uncharacteristic softness in his tone, “I’d bet Oakley thinks he won the damn lottery. He likes you, in case that’s not clear. Exhibit A: New Year’s Eve.”

I blow out a breath as a tendril of heat snakes through me at the memory of his lips on mine. “We have an attraction, yes, but we’re both happily in the friend zone.”

Indy raises an eyebrow. “You sure that’s how you both feel?”

“Yes. He hasn’t said one word about that night, which just proves he’s committed to our professional relationship. It was a blip.”

I notice the glances exchanged between my friends, but I ignore it. They’re always seeing things that aren’t there. Even if we were right about Salem and Indy. And Kit and Stewart. This is different.I’mdifferent. There’s zero possibility that I’m opening my heart to Oakley. Even if that’s what he wants, which he obviously doesn’t, his friendship is more important to me than a few brief months of romance that will inevitably end badly.

I need to get my head straight and my armor up to deal with Alain and his entourage. He’ll know I’m going to be there and he’ll do everything in his power to show me up and rub his new love in my face.

With that in mind, I slip away from my friends and give in to doing a bit of recon on my ex. Sitting in the dark office, I open my phone’s browser and type in his name, my stomach turning as his face lights up my screen.

I learn his fiancé is a man I’ve never heard of from Los Angeles, and based on his tender age of twenty-six, how could I? The little babe has barely been out of design school. It’s so Alain to go for someone who he can mold and influence instead of a peer. Poor kid has no idea what’s coming.

Maybe I’m being judgmental and Alain has turned over a new leaf. Maybe he doesn’t chase after every pretty face in Paris anymore. Maybe he truly loves his baby-faced trophy. And maybe I’m Beyoncé in disguise. A man like Alain doesn’t change.

And that’s exactly why I can’t trust anyone again. Alain was perfect on paper—talented to the point of genius, smart, charming, and of course, gorgeous. He was everything I always hoped for in a partner, someone who could truly understand and complement my work, and though I never aspired to marriage and all that comes with it, he wore me down with visions of being a global power couple and my ego fell for it.

As soon as the ring was on my finger, he changed, and yet I held on, too concerned with appearances to do what I should have done. The relentless affairs and lies, the underhanded business deals, the mishandling of expenses… And still I stayed. I loved him. Actually, truly loved him. And I believed in the lie he sold me until I couldn’t anymore.

I keep scrolling and reading articles, quickly learning that I’m right. This new man is his second fiancé since me—the one he cheated on his last one with. Ugh. He hasn’t changed at all. Neither has the tabloid culture. There must be a half dozen gossip blogs reporting on Alain’s antics.

For just a moment, I daydream about the expression on his face when he sees Oakley on my arm. It’ll come as a surprise,since thankfully, no one stateside gives a fuck about my personal life. My name hasn’t appeared in anything since my split from our company after the divorce was finalized and the massive, very public settlement I received to buy me out and change the name.

The lingering anxiety I’ve felt since I opened that letter earlier settles into something firm and confident. Leaving Paris and rebuilding my life here was the right choice, and though I wish I was immune to the effects of seeing Alain again, at least I’ll have Oakley by my side. The man is sex on a stick, gorgeous, and a lovely person on top of that. If I had met him before Alain, I might have even been able to fall for him.

Sadly, he’s getting the broken, jaded version of who I used to be. I’m grateful he sees enough in me to play along with this ridiculous charade for a week. Ah. I should make a checklist of what we’ll need to pull this off authentically.

Yes. A checklist is in order.

SIX

OAKLEY

A waveof heat washes over me as I pull into the circular drive of the mansion Lowen calls home. Despite the frigid temperatures outside, I’m pretty sure I could melt the snow on my own. I’m filled with a mixture of insecurity and determination to make Lowen see me in a different light. He’s opened a door, even if it’s just for show, and this is my opportunity to convince him not to close it.

I grab the bouquet I purchased and slide out of the car, straightening my blazer as I walk to the door. Operation Woo Lowen starts now.

I ring the bell and when he swings the door open, he’s looking down at his phone, gesturing for me to enter without looking up. Way to spoil the effect.

“Sorry,” Lowen mumbles. “Responding to an email about a late merch delivery.”

I stand in the doorway, refusing to step forward until he notices me. It only takes him a few seconds to realize I’m not behind him. He turns around and as his pretty eyes find me, he gasps softly as a smile tugs at his lips.

“What’s this?”

“Flowers.” I wipe my boots on the doormat before stepping forward. “I always bring you flowers. Your favorite dahlias are out of season, but they did have this nice bouquet.”

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