Chapter 28
SEBASTIAN
Iget home in the wee hours of the morning.
Valeria—that’s my temptress’s name… fake, no doubt—wanted to go to her favorite nightclub. She loooooves dancing. After that she asked me to take her for a ride around the Boulogne Forest, driving my Lamborghini as fast as it would go. She adooooores speed.
When I took her back to her hotel, she invited me upstairs for a “cup of coffee.” That’s when I went off script and declined her invitation.
“Wife?” She gave me a sympathetic look.
I nodded.
Valeria pointed at her watch. “It’s three in the morning. She won’t believe you anyway.”
“I’ll try my luck.” I planted a quick smooch on her lips and promised I’d make arrangements so we could meet again soon without raising anyone’s suspicions.
She gave me her number and told me to use it anytime.
I drove off, praying she wouldn’t wait too long before contacting her employer. Despite her striking beauty, I really don’t care for the prospect of “meeting her again soon.”
Right now, what I long for is sleep. Next to Diane. I picture myself performing what’s become my favorite bedtime ritual. It consists of spooning Diane to my chest, wrapping an arm around her, and breathing in the skin at her nape.
It occurs to me as I climb the stairs to the second floor that I haven’t had a single sleepless night since she’s been sharing my bed.
I also realize that what I told her the other day about not wanting a relationship with her was, as she’d say, a big pile of shit.
Treading as lightly as possible so I don’t wake her up, I enter the bedroom—and know at once that she’s gone.
I turn on the light and look around. The bed hasn’t been turned down.
Her nightstand is free of her baubles. I rush to the walk-in closet.
One of her suitcases and some of her clothes are missing.
She’s left me.
Why? Up until now, she’d stuck to our deal remarkably well. Why quit now before we have proof that my plan has worked, before our contract has expired, and before we’ve had a chance to discuss this new development?
Was it jealousy?
I’ve suspected for some time now that Diane has feelings for me, but I didn’t think they were strong. And I certainly didn’t think she’d let them cloud her judgement.
I sit down on the bed and drop my head into my hands, disappointment washing through me in cold, sticky waves. The funny thing is I’m more upset about Diane’s walking out on me than jeopardizing my plan. Her departure makes the prospect of a future without her real for the first time.
That future holds no witty commentary on everything under the sun, no adorable goofiness, and no refreshing disregard for my money and status.
Nor does it hold lovemaking that’s been growing sweeter every night, instead of palling.
I’d believed a future without Diane Petit was what I wanted.
But all I can see in it now is bleakness.
Depressing, morbid, unbearable bleakness.
What have I done?
In the quiet of the house, the sound of a door unlocking and gently closing comes from the foyer. I jump up and run down the stairs, tripping on the carpet, getting up, and running again. Is it Diane? Has she changed her mind? Did she reconsider the wisdom of her actions?
Let it be her. Please, let it be her.
But it’s only Octave—the last person in this household I expected to come home at this hour.
He smiles apologetically. “I hope I didn’t wake monsieur up.”
“No, I was awake.” I hesitate. “Have you seen Diane?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t she come home with you?”
“No,” I say drily. “She didn’t.”
I wish Octave good night and return to my bedroom, which feels awfully empty without my lover.
When I crawl into bed fifteen minutes later, I lie on her side and bury my nose in her pillow.
I’m a fool.
Blinded by Diane’s charm, I was beginning to convince myself she could be the right woman for me—a partner for life, my anchor, my rock.
Drunk on her body, I was beginning to see her as the woman who’d stay by my side through good times and bad, sickness and health, society obligations and job demands, babies to be raised and mistakes to be forgiven.
I’m such a pathetic fool.