Page 75 of French Martini

I don’t think he’s enjoying any of this. I guess I thought he’d be in his element again, but he seems anxious to get to the end of the week and back to life in Willow Bay. Probably a good sign for me since I can’t really afford to keep that rock on his finger.

An hour in, Lowen leans over, squeezing my thigh. “See you soon.”

“I’ll be right here.”

I watch him walk away to slip backstage so he can present next, glancing briefly at Gerard, who’s also watching Lowen. He turns and smiles awkwardly at me, then shifts to move into Lowen’s vacated seat.

“Hi. Oakley, right?”

“Yes. Gerard?”

“Right. Are you enjoying your time in the city?”

“I live here. Close to here, but I do a lot of work in the city. You?”

“Paris. I live there now. I stayed after I graduated, but I’m from the West Coast.”

I nod, glancing at the stage, but the last winner is still going on about all the people he wants to thank.

“Lowen is my idol,” Gerard says abruptly. “I decided to become a designer because of him. I know the circumstances are strange, but I asked if he had a few minutes before everything was over to chat. Alain hasn’t given me much free time.”

My jaw ticks, but I nod. “Cool.”

The music comes on again and we quiet down, waiting as none other than Alain introduces Lowen. That had to be planned. They could have had the other presenter do it.

Lowen walks out to loud applause, pausing to put his hand over his chest and slightly bow his head, then he continues to the podium. He seems like he might not acknowledge Alain at all, but I see his lips move and then Alain’s gaze shoots out to the audience, pausing when he finds Gerard sitting next to me. I wave just to be a dick.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” Lowen says, now standing at the mic. “I’m so pleased to present the latest Up-and-Coming Designer of the Year award. Our winner set foot in Paris only six years ago, quickly immersing themselves in the scene through numerous internships, finally landing at the House of Whitley two years ago, where Amanda Whitley herself saw this person’s potential and unleashed it upon us all through four boutique hotels and two bougie restaurants in the city. Please give a warm welcome to our winner, Alec Quinn.”

We all clap as the tall, lanky designer stands and walks to the stage. They’re wearing a white suit that clings tightly, with wild platform boots in many colors. Their hair is long and wavy down the center and dyed pink and teal, but shaved on the sides, and they sport many facial piercings.

When Alec reaches Lowen, they do that air kiss thing on the cheeks, then Lowen hands off the award and moves to the back. I keep my eyes on Lowen, still awed at how composed he is in a situation like this. Under the lights up there, his outfit is very see-through and his skin seems to glimmer from here.

Damn, he’s gorgeous.

Alec finishes up their speech and the two of them walk off stage together. A few minutes later, Lowen returns, sitting down in his original seat now that Gerard has moved over again.

“You told Alain that Gerard was sitting with us, didn’t you?”

“I sure did.”

“Savage,” I whisper.

“I could be so much worse. I should get credit for that.”

“Consider it granted.”

He smiles, then turns toward me, squeezing my knee. It seems like he wants to tell me something, but he just kisses my cheek.

“You good, kitten?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Almost time for your award.”

“Then we can leave and be alone again.”

“You don’t have to stick around after?”

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