Lord at First Sight (The Montevor Royals Saga #8)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LAURA

I hurry down a hallway of the show’s Parisian studio behind a production assistant. My kitten heels click against the granite floor, making too much noise. Fortunately, it’s drowned in the chaos around us—voices calling out directions, equipment being dragged around, and the faint smell of coffee mixed with hair spray. The assistant moves fast, glancing back only once to make sure I’m keeping up.

She opens a door and motions me in. “They’re filming in the salon.”

The salon is a set that looks like someone’s overpriced living room, complete with fancy cushions and throws. Four couples and all the experts are already here, seated in a semicircle. Each couple occupies their own love seat. Two are huddled together in the middle and the other two are as far apart as they can get. The show’s experts are sprawled out in armchairs.

Isabelle is perched on an armrest and chatting with one of them, her silver laugh a little too rehearsed. The cameras are rolling.

Antoine is here, too, alone on a love seat looking just as composed as ever. Well, with the notable exception of the beach after-party the day before yesterday. That night, something snapped in him. An invisible dam burst, and after three days of barely touching me, he suddenly couldn’t get enough. We fucked in the kiosk. Then we snuck back to our suite—with no cameras tailing us—and got it on again. We made love twice more yesterday morning, once as soon as we woke up and the second time while we were packing to leave the resort.

The sex was mind-blowingly, criminally good.

And yes, I know that lust isn’t the same as love. Still, I didn’t think he was going to ghost me today. But I’m also relieved to see him here.

As I approach, he rises to his feet.

Of course he does. It dawns on me that after spending four days in Antoine’s company, I’ve come to expect nothing less than impeccable manners from him. Holding doors, pulling out chairs, standing up when I arrive… I’ve never been with a man this gallant before. The funny thing is, it’s so automatic with him, it’s second nature.

Is that a common trait in tattoo artists who cannot draw?

Ah, I’m probably overthinking it. I’m sure there’s a good reason for his polished manners. Maybe his parents are very old school or very religious, and he had a strict upbringing. Incidentally, his brother Henri seemed to be the same way around his fiancée. There are such families in every social class.

Antoine greets me, “Good morning, Laura.”

“Top of the morning to you, laddy!” I quote from the Friends episode we watched at the hotel.

He smiles, recognizing the callback.

I slide onto the sofa next to him. We sit close together, knees and hands touching. I catch a faint whiff of his familiar cologne. It’s a delicious scent, especially when it’s the only thing he has on.

Maybe, just maybe, this crazy passion between us ? —

I shut that thought down, not daring to take it to its logical conclusion.

“Laura!” Isabelle turns to me. “How’s life post-Sardinia?”

“Great,” I say. “I’m drowning in laundry, but other than that, no complaints.”

Everyone laughs politely.

“What about you, Antoine?” she asks.

He takes my hand. “What Laura said.”

I can’t believe how handsy he’s become since our kiosk adventure!

One of the experts, Amelie Krafko, leans forward. “From the footage I’ve seen, it looks like the honeymoon was a resounding success for you two. I don’t need to know the bedroom details, but would you agree with that?”

I do my best not to sound too hyped. “We’re still figuring each other out, but all things considered?—”

Before I can finish, the door opens again, and the remaining two couples rush in. Once everyone’s settled, Isabelle claps her hands, signaling the start of the session.

“All right, everyone!” she exclaims. “I hope you had a chance to catch your breath after your honeymoon. Let’s dive in, shall we?”

Everybody nods. As if we had a choice…

She flashes her megawatt smile. “First, let’s talk about the honeymoon. How was Sardinia? The hotel? The activities? The food?”

A wave of obligatory gushing and raving follows. Someone declares Cala Stella to be the most incredible hotel in the universe. Another praises the couple challenges as “a great way to nurture the bond.” I declare in all honesty that the food was amazing, especially the desserts. Antoine remains silent.

When Isabelle asks him specifically, he takes the same escape route as before. “What Laura said.”

After fishing for compliments a bit longer, Isabelle shifts gears. “Now, let’s get to the real reason we’re here. I’ll let Amelie speak.”

Amelie Krafko stands up. “Now that your honeymoon is over, we’re moving into the next stage of this experiment.”

On Isabelle’s cue, we clap.

“You’ll spend this week apart,” Amelie continues, “catching up on work, chores, and taking care of any urgent personal matters.”

“Sounds like a vacation,” a male voice mutters from across the room.

A few people laugh nervously.

“Not quite a vacation,” Pedro Monfort, says. “This week, you’ll meet each other’s families over a shared meal.”

I’ve read the paperwork, so I knew about this milestone. Also, I’d already made it clear to my parents that if they refused to cook dinner for Antoine and me, I’d have to empty my savings account to pay the draconian fine stipulated in my contract. The threat worked like a charm.

“At the end of the week,” Pedro continues, “you’ll move in together. The show is renting seven beautiful apartments in Paris, just for you.”

Amelie takes over. “The aim of this next phase is to explore how you adapt to living together, sharing responsibilities, and managing routines.”

“Like, who takes out the trash?” someone asks.

“Exactly,” Amelie confirms.

Pedro wraps up. “Living together as a couple will be the real test, folks. Can you survive each other’s quirks? Can you compromise? Will your relationship make it to Decision Day and beyond?”

The room goes quiet at the mention of Decision Day.

Amelie scans our faces. “Where do you guys stand after the honeymoon, romance-wise?”

The air in the room becomes even heavier. Marin and Clara, with whom I spent some time socializing at the party, shift uncomfortably and exchange meaningful looks. What’s going on? They seemed happy together the day before yesterday.

Marin clears his throat. “We’ve decided to quit.”

Gasps ripple through the room. A few faces freeze in shock. The cameras swivel and zoom with frenetic energy, capturing every twitch of an eyebrow and every widening eye. This kind of drama is reality TV gold for the producers. I can almost hear them congratulating themselves and imagining the slow-motion close-ups they’ll use to heighten the moment.

“We don’t see a future together,” Clara adds. “No point in dragging it out.”

Marin nods. “We already know that moving in together will only aggravate our issues.”

Isabelle offers a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for being honest. It’s never an easy decision, but it’s better to know now than later.”

The others say they’re staying married, even if some have their doubts, and one has considered a trial separation, but decided to give the marriage another chance.

When it’s our turn, Isabelle’s gaze lands on us expectantly. “Laura? Antoine? What about you?”

I glance at Antoine who looks at me.

Amelie winks. “We’ve noticed all the touching that’s going on, by the way.”

“We’re on,” Antoine says, his hand wrapping a little tighter around mine.

I nod for emphasis. “We’re ready for the next step.”

Everyone claps.

“That’s great to hear!” Amelie beams. “Congratulations!”

Her colleagues praise us like proud parents. Isabelle and the production crew cheer. The other couples yell “bravo” and “hurray.” The cameras spin.

Antoine murmurs in my ear, “No pressure, right?”

“Just a ticking clock and a national audience,” I whisper back. “But other than that, none at all.”