50. Salem
SALEM
“ R ight this way,” the hostess says, leading me to our table.
After years of feeling tens of thousands of eyes on me a few nights a week, you’d think I’d be used to the glances thrown my way, but it never feels natural.
Lucien comes into view, impeccably dressed as always, typing on his phone, undoubtedly running his empire with never a minute to spare, not even to remove his coat.
“Here we are. I’ll let your server know the full party is here.”
At the sound of the hostess’s voice, his head pops up.
“Hey!” He eases into a stand, his black tailored coat falling in clean lines.
“What’s up?”
“Still single?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I breathe around the scrape in my chest. “Why?”
“Good. Now that you’re out, we can finally do this…” He leans up and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
My first public kiss that day in the Castro with Blue blinks to life, and I wince from the memory.
Lucien pulls back, peels off his oversized shades, and takes a good look at me. “ Mon dieu. Ce que ca fait du bien .”
I grin back. “Glad it was worth the wait.”
His fingers press into the sides of my waist. “You’re actually out.”
I huff a laugh. “Wild, right?”
“Come on.” He signals for the waiter as he folds into the booth. “We’ll celebrate!”
“A bottle of your Bollinger 1996 Vieilles Vignes Francaises, please,” he orders when the waiter arrives.
“What are you doing over there?” He shoots me a puzzled glance. “ Viens .”
Instead of waiting for me to come to him, he shifts to the spot next to me.
He leans forward, and I help him out of his coat.
Resting it neatly across the bench, he straightens his crisp, waist-length white shirt, patting down the high collar and double chest pockets clasped by small, brown buttons.
He crosses his legs, which are encased in camel-colored wool slacks, then fixes his belt so the braid hangs decoratively to the side.
He winks, his bronze skin flawless, like he keeps to his monthly esthetician visits. “ Oui , I’m still fabulous.”
I smile. “Always.”
“Last we spoke, you were baking a cake.”
God, that feels like a century ago.
His brown eyes scan my face. “ Merde !” He frowns.
The champagne arrives.
After we toast, he says, “Tell me.”
And I do, starting with the press conference.
He interrupts to ask questions.
Two flutes of champagne later, he’s caught up, and with a click of his tongue, he rests his head on my shoulder. “I’m jealous of him. I’d have killed to have put a ring on your finger.”
I tilt my head to catch his eyes. “What?”
“I knew you had your eyes set on someone else. But I was happy to have whatever part of you I could.”
Wait, seriously? What? He always seemed happy with our arrangement.
“Luci—”
“Relax.” He pats my arm. “When you were with me, you were all in. But it sometimes felt like there was a clock ticking, and I wouldn’t have you forever.”
I lower the flute to the table and wipe my mouth—the bubbly turning noxious in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to feel like there was someone else. I’m sorry if I did.”
“Shh. I regret nothing,” he reassures.
I don’t understand. “Why waste time with me if you didn’t think you could have forever? If you wanted marriage?”
He shrugs. “All we really have is right now.”
I shake my head. “But it’s okay to want tomorrow, to plan for tomorrow, to want to spend the rest of your life with someone.”
“Maybe.” He flicks his hand side to side. “You’re an idealist. It’s charming, but it’s also intimidating. You see the potential in everything.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You sometimes only see the potential. Which means anything short of it is insufficient. I loved the time we spent together. Why would I have suffered tomorrow’s loss when I still had you today?”
“But you wanted marriage?”
“Yes.”
“If I want marriage with someone, I could never settle for less than that,” I tell him.
“I know.” He rests his palm on top of mine. “It’s how I knew our time was limited.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“It’s okay. Things work out as they should,” he says, then adds with a small smile, “I might have met someone.”
“Hold on. If I hurt you, Lucien…”
“You didn’t. I wouldn’t be sitting here if you did.”
My back settles against the booth. It’s true that he wouldn’t stand for being mistreated. Then his words from a moment ago register. “You met someone?”
“His name’s Olivier, and he’s a physicist specializing in the fundamental physics of quantum mechanics.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“ Oui . I try to keep up with his work, but it all goes over my head like my work goes over his. Here he is.” He slides his phone over to me.
I whistle. “That’s how they make scientists in Paris?” He’s built like a club bouncer.
He chuckles. “ C’est trop mignon .”
Very cute. “He resembles that footballer who plays for PFG,” I note.
“ Oui . He’s his older brother.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm. Olivier is removed from all of that, though. He didn’t know who I was when we met.”
“That’s perfect for you.” He’s struggled with guys dating him for money and clout. It’s part of the reason we worked. I knew he could be discreet and would never out me, and he knew I didn’t want or need his money or influence.
“I don’t know about perfect, but I want to see where it goes.”
After I fight him to pay the bill, and win, I’m signing the check when I tell him, “Denzel’s missing again.”
“For how long?” he asks.
“Right after you and I last spoke, I talked to him on the phone.”
“Oh, mon ange, viens là .” He rests his hand on my thigh. “Can I help?”
“We hired a PI.”
“You’ll keep me posted?”
I nod. “Ready?”
He reaches for his coat. “I brought you a gift. I’ll have it delivered to you next week.”
“I told you, no more suits. It’s too much.”
“I can’t imagine anyone else in it,” he states.
“Your scientist looks like the perfect muse.”
“I prefer him disheveled. What about your guy? Can I make him a suit?”
“He’s not my guy.” I tilt my chest up, stretching out the tension in my back. “Anyway, he’ll probably burn it and send you a death threat scrawled with its ashes.”
He laughs. “Possessive?”
A man standing in the corner of the lounge turns slightly, playing it off like his phone wasn’t just pointed at us.
“Murderously so,” I say, hating the fondness in my voice.
“Hot.” He swoons.