Chapter Thirty-Nine
Poppy
T he next few days pass by in a blur of sunshine, rosé, and unapologetic indulgence.
Between beach days, long lunches, and late-night cocktails, the girls and I have been fully embracing our Monaco adventure.
Fully embracing as in: Emma has somehow convinced a bartender to invent a cocktail in her honour, Jas has declared that she’s moving here at least four times, and Leah -
Well. Leah has practically relocated to Jacques’ mansion.
She still makes occasional appearances, though. Usually accompanied by designer bags and looking smug as hell.
And me?
Against my better judgment, I’ve still been sneakily messaging Frederic Moreau.
A lot.
I don’t even know how it happened.
One message turned into two, then two turned into entire conversations .
He’s been asking all sorts of things - about my life in London, my fashion studies, how long I’m staying in Monaco -
And, of course, whether I’m coming to the race.
Leah’s mysterious contact for race tickets had fallen through, but because Monaco is Monaco, she managed to find a replacement.
Thank you, Jacques .
Apparently, he’s sorted us VIP tickets, which absolutely does not seem suspicious. At all.
I’ve been trying not to worry about it, despite the fact that the race is this coming weekend. For now, it’s Monday afternoon, and we’ve just returned from a long, lazy lunch.
Emma is dramatically sprawled across one of the beds, clutching her stomach like she’s been personally betrayed by the amount of food she’s just eaten.
"I can’t believe you let me order that second plate of pasta," she groans.
"I told you not to," Jas points out, scrolling through her phone. "But you said, and I quote, that you would simply perish without it."
"And I meant it," Emma whimpers.
Jas snorts. "So dramatic."
I barely hear them, still trying to shake the warmth of the sun from my skin. I’m half-listening to their bickering, sipping my iced coffee, when there’s a sharp knock at the door.
We all freeze.
"Did anyone order room service?" Emma asks.
"Not me," Jas says .
"Maybe it’s Leah?" I frown.
"She has a key," Emma points out.
Another knock.
I sigh, setting my drink down and pushing up from the couch.
"Well, we’re about to find out."
I move across the suite, smoothing a hand over the linen of my sundress before unlocking the door.
My eyes almost bulge out of my head.
Two sharply dressed hotel staff members stand in the hallway, their hands full.
And by full, I mean full.
They’re carrying an outrageous amount of roses.
Not one.
Not two.
Not three.
But four massive bouquets of deep, velvety red roses.
The scent hits instantly; rich and intoxicating, filling the entire suite with an almost overwhelming floral perfume.
Behind me, Emma makes a sound. It’s hard to say if it’s a gasp or a squeal, but it’s loud .
"What the fuck?" Jas mutters.
I don’t know what to say.
The staff step inside, carefully placing the bouquets on the coffee table before handing me a pristine envelope.
I stare at it .
Then at the obscene amount of flowers.
Then back at the envelope.
"Poppy," Emma hisses, her eyes wide as saucers. "What the hell is this?"
Jas crosses her arms, watching me closely.
"Yeah, babe. Care to explain?"
I swallow hard and slide my finger under the envelope’s flap, pulling out a thick, expensive piece of stationery.
A handwritten note.
I already know who it’s from before I even look.
Poppy,
Our conversations have been enjoyable, but I think it’s time we had another one in person.
Dinner. Tonight. 8 PM.
Let’s see if you still plan on pretending you don’t like me when I’m sitting across from you.
- F.
I blink.
Emma screams .
"You’ve been speaking to him ?!"
Jas snatches the card from my hands before I can stop her, reading over it at lightning speed before fixing me with an incredulous look.
"Oh, you sneaky little bitch,” she smirks.
Of course Leah chooses this exact moment to walk in, arms full of designer shopping bags .
"Good afternoon, darlings!" she calls cheerfully, kicking the door shut behind her. "And it is a really good afternoon. Guess who had another - "
She stops.
Looks at the roses.
Then at the expressions on all our faces.
"What the hell did I miss?"
Jas holds up the note.
"Poppy and her secret lover."
"He is not -"
"Oh my god," Leah gasps, dropping her bags. "Are these from him?"
"Yes, they are !" Emma yells. "Can you believe that she didn’t even tell us that she was texting him?!"
" Wow. ” Leah’s eyes snap to mine. “Very sneaky of you, Pops."
I groan, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes.
"You’re all being so dramatic -"
" Dramatic ?!" Emma gapes at me, waving frantically at the flowers. "Poppy. This is four bouquets of roses . This is a handwritten invitation to a private dinner . This is literal Grand Romantic Gesture?."
"It’s not that deep -"
“ Not that deep?! ”
I swear Emma is about to combust.
"You’re really going to try and stand there, look me in the eye, and tell me this is NOT that deep?!"
I rub my temples. "Can we just - "
"Are you going?" Jas interrupts.
I hesitate.
Emma practically shakes me by the shoulders.
"You have to go,” she says, clapping her hands together. "Oh my god, if you don’t go, I’ll go in your place."
I snatch the card back. " Fine. "
Three identical shrieks echo through the suite.
Ignoring them, I pull out my phone, my heart hammering as I type out a message.
You certainly know how to make yourself known.
And then, just so there’s no doubt;
I’ll see you at 8.
As soon as I press send, a rush of nervous energy floods through me.
This is happening. I’m going to dinner with Frederic Moreau.
I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.
* * *
"I have nothing to wear."
" Bullshit ," Jas says immediately, flipping through my suitcase. "You literally design clothes for a living."
"Exactly!" I gesture wildly to the pile of rejected dresses on my bed. "Which is why I’m overthinking this!"
"So stop messing around with this stuff and just wear something you made yourself," she says, as if it’s the simplest solution in the world.
"Is that not a bit… obnoxious ? ”
"No. It’s very French , actually,” Emma snorts.
Leah nods in agreement, perched on the edge of my bed, meticulously sorting through her ever-growing collection of designer handbags.
"She’s right. Men love a woman who can market herself."
"I am not marketing myself -"
"Poppy," Emma interrupts, grabbing my shoulders. "You are literally going on a date with one of the most famous men in the world."
"We don’t know that it’s a date."
"Oh my fucking -" She shakes me slightly. "He sent you four bouquets of roses and a handwritten invitation. You. Are. Going. On. A. Date."
I sigh, defeated. " Fine ."
"Great!" Jas grins, rummaging through my design sketches. "Let’s find you something that says ‘I’m effortlessly chic, but also, I could ruin your life if I wanted to’ ."
"So… Old Money, then?" Leah sips her wine.
Jas snaps her fingers. "Exactly."
I groan, flopping onto my bed. "I’m already dreading this."
Emma cheerfully ignores me, plugging in a curling iron and motioning me over to the vanity.
"Come on, mon ange . Let’s make you look irresistible."
"I regret telling you he calls me that,” I glare, but reluctantly move to sit in front of her. “And now I hate you for using it, too.”
She grins, sectioning off my hair.
"Just wait until we’re done with you."
* * *
I barely recognise myself.
My blonde hair is styled into voluminous, bouncy waves, cascading over my shoulders in flawless, glossy curls. Emma even dusted a little highlight on my collarbones - because, in her words, men are stupid and love shiny things.
Leah finished my eye makeup - soft, smoky, and seductive, but not overdone - while Jas diligently searched through my collection of self-made outfits.
And when she found the perfect dress?
Oh , she found the perfect dress.
"This one," she declared, holding it up with a flourish. "This is the one."
The fabric is luxurious and creamy, a soft ivory shade that clings to my curves in all the right places. Thin straps, a structured bodice, and a subtly flared skirt that ends mid-thigh. It’s one of the first designs I truly poured myself into, one that took hours upon hours of meticulous work - from sketching out the concept to sourcing the perfect fabric, to sewing and resewing each delicate seam until it was flawless.
It’s elegant and classic, and tonight, it’s perfect.
I pair it with strappy nude heels, a simple gold bracelet, and - before I can protest - Leah thrusts a handbag into my hands.
"What’s this?" I frown, inspecting the obviously expensive purse.
"One of the bags Jacques bought for me," she says matter-of-factly. "You may as well start using some of this stuff. No point in hoarding it all."
"I can’t just - "
"You’re welcome," she interrupts, pressing a kiss to my cheek before stepping back to admire her work. "Now, look at you. We’ve done a service to Monaco tonight."
"Frederic won’t know what hit him," Emma beams.
"Ready to go make a man suffer?" Jas grins, smoothing a hand over my skirt before stepping back.
"You’re all so dramatic,” I snort, rolling my eyes as I grab my phone, but then I pause. “But… I love you all. So much.”
“We love you too, Pops,” Jas smiles.
I’m just about to make the call down to the hotel reception to ask that they order me a car when I tap my screen and see a notification waiting for me.
I open the message, my heart skipping slightly.
A car is waiting for you downstairs.
No rush - whenever you’re ready.
"Who’s that?" Leah asks, lounging back on the bed as she scrolls through her phone.
I hesitate.
"Uh -"
Emma and Jas are already watching me expectantly.
I exhale, turning the screen so they can see.
The reaction is immediate.
Emma squeals, Jas clutches her chest dramatically, and even Leah looks up from her phone with an approving nod.
"God, that’s so hot," Jas declares.
"Why is it so attractive when men are organised?" Emma sighs, placing a hand over her heart. “He’s just so - so - ”
"Don’t say it," I warn.
" Thoughtful !"
Jas grins knowingly.
"Oh, you’re in trouble, babe."
"And I, for one, love it,” Leah adds.
I shake my head, but I can’t deny it.
I feel… something .
Something thrumming in my chest, something I refuse to acknowledge.
I suppress a smile as I type out a quick response.
Noted.
I’ll be down soon.
Then, with one final deep breath, I grab my clutch, give my outfit one last once-over in the mirror, and make my way to the door.
"Wish me luck," I mutter.
"You don’t need it," Emma grins.
"Make him work for it," Jas winks.
Leah lifts her glass. "And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smirk that tugs at my lips as I step out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind me.