Page 76 of French Martini

He shrugs. “I mean, they’d probably like it, but what are they gonna do if I don’t?”

We sit through a few more awards. I keep stealing glances at the ring on his finger. He looks damn good being wifed up. By me. I want to growl possessively at the thought.

The female presenter, Stacia something, comes out on stage and Lowen shifts in his seat, aware that all eyes are about to be on him. He was very clear that if Alain presented his award, he would walk out, and it looks like they took his threat seriously.

Stacia goes on and on about Lowen’s many accomplishments in Paris, accompanied by a slideshow of his works behind her. I’m truly stunned by all that he did, from hotels and restaurants to office buildings and a few boutiques.

Of course they talk about his time as co-owner of The House of Durand and Ainsley, with more pictures of the two men in professional settings, working side by side. That part is glossed over pretty quickly, and I have to guess that was also Lowen’s doing. Stacia talks about how there was no one else they would dream of giving this award to. Turns out it’s the inaugural year, kind of like a lifetime achievement award. Wonder what Alain thinks about Lowen getting it first.

“Please help me congratulate our first winner of the Parisian Beauty Contribution Award, Lowen Ainsley.”

The room erupts in applause, and seconds later, a standing ovation. I rise to my feet, offering my hand to Lowen. He stands, pressing a nice kiss to my mouth before turning to walk to the stage.

I’m clapping like everyone else and holding back the desire to whistle. Lowen is elegant and poised as he accepts the statuette from Stacia, glancing out at the sea of people who can’t seem to get enough of him.

“Thank you all so much,” he says as the clapping finally dies down and people take their seats. “I’m truly honored to receive such an accolade. You can’t imagine how much it means to me to have my work recognized by my peers.” He glances at the award, then up again with a soft smile on his lips. “There are so many people who were part of my journey, and it would take hours to thank them all. Just know that if we ever worked together, I remember you, and I thank you for helping me achieve my vision. I won’t go on forever, but I have to thank my fiancé, Oakley.”

My heart stutters in my chest, but I keep the smile plastered on my face.

“He came into my life when I was still finding my footing stateside. He became a trusted business partner first, then a friend, then…” He pauses, exhaling slowly. “More than I ever dreamed of. Sometimes we have our plans and the path for how we’ll get there all laid out, but things don’t always work out the way you hoped they would.”

My throat tightens with emotion. He’s being so open.

“But just when you think you’re completely lost, the path drops you off exactly where you were supposed to be. I was supposed to come here, back to New Onyx, so that my path could bring me to Oakley. Thank you for being exactly who you said you were.”

I blow him a kiss, aware of people watching me.

“I must also thank the fabulous designer Belle, who rivals my own aesthetic for indulgent beauty, for this creation I’m wearing tonight.”

He finishes up with a few more thank yous to the publication and then he leaves the stage to more applause. When he returns to his seat, I wrap my arm around him and kiss him hard, hearing the clicking of cameras from somewhere in the room.

“I’m so proud of you, kitten,” I whisper as we settle in our chairs again.

“I meant what I said up there. That part wasn’t fake.”

“I know.”

Lowen’s was the last award, and now Stacia and Alain are thanking everyone and talking about the reception in the next ballroom.

“As soon as the lights come up, make for the elevators,” Lowen whispers.

“You got it, babe.”

I keep an eye on the doors, and minutes later, the awards end with clapping. Lowen and I stand up, hoping to get lost in the mingling crowd, but Gerard is quick to get Lowen’s attention and Lowen frowns at me.

“I forgot I said I’d give him a few minutes.”

“No problem.”

“Balcony,” he says to Gerard.

Gerard nods and the three of us walk in the opposite direction from all the other people, stepping out into the freezing night air to chat away from prying eyes. Using my body, I shelter Lowen from the cold and from anyone who might be looking for him.

Gerard, tugging his suit jacket around himself, smiles nervously. “Thank you. I know this has to be quick. Alain will come looking for me soon.”

Lowen nods. “What can I answer for you?”

Gerard’s gaze flicks to me quickly, and something about his expression makes me nervous.

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