The Reckless Husband (Husband-On-His-Knees #1)

CHAPTER 1

Mark

One moment you’re living through the grind of life, and the next moment, your wildest dreams come true.

My heart was still racing from the meeting I’d just left.

Head of Marketing for Beauté éternelle—the world’s leading cosmetics company?

I should’ve pinched myself just to be sure I was not dreaming.

A mix of excitement and joy leaped like waves at the pit of my stomach.

I smiled like a lunatic, staring out at the New York skyline from my corner office window.

And not just that. I’d be leading the Paris lipstick campaign. Six months in the City of Light, spearheading what could be the most revolutionary product launch in the company’s history.

Amelia was going to be so proud when I told her about the promotion. The raise alone would change so much for our family. We could add that pool she had been secretly dreaming of, put more away for Noah and Brook’s college funds, and maybe take an additional vacation in the year.

This was everything I’d worked for since grad school.

But six months in Paris? How was I going to tell her I’d be gone for half a year?

The sharp trill of my computer interrupted my thoughts. A video call request flashed on screen.

Simone Mercier - Paris Office.

The sexy, devastatingly beautiful, and famously flirtatious assistant to our CEO. She’d be coordinating my transition to the Paris team. Which meant more face time with her. On calls, and soon, in person.

I clicked accept, and my screen filled with the image of the gorgeous woman I only occasionally interacted with in the past.

“Mark! Congratulations!” Simone’s voice was warm and throaty, her English flavored with a French accent that made every word sound like a blissful invitation.

“Thank you, Simone. I’m still processing everything.”

She laughed, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the speakers. She was in what looked like her office in our Paris headquarters, a rich plum floral wallpaper behind her desk. It must be late evening in Paris, which meant she worked after hours too.

She lifted a coffee cup to her lips, took a sip, and when she lowered it, there was a faint outline of foam on her upper lip. She looked right at me and darted her tongue out, slowly licking it away.

Then she smiled, and I saw the gleam of red lipstick making her lips look full and glistening.

“Paris will be very good for you,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “The nightlife here, it’s so exciting. So... freeing.”

She was wearing a silky blouse in a pearly pink shade that looked translucent under the clear ceiling lights in her office. The top three buttons were undone, revealing the hollow of her throat and the beginning of her cleavage.

“Freeing?” I managed, trying to keep my eyes on her face.

“Oui. Away from routine, away from the everyday. You can be anyone you want to be here.” She adjusted her position, and I caught a glimpse of a tight black bra struggling to contain soft curves. “You know, many expat spouses, they have... arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” My mouth felt dry.

Simone leaned forward dramatically, her blouse falling open just enough that I could see more of her breasts pushing against the lace. She had to know what she was doing.

“When people move to Paris for work assignments, they understand that six months is a long time to be apart. Or even together. But in a new place, with new possibilities.” She smiled knowingly. “People get creative with how they handle things.”

I shifted in my chair, very aware that I shouldn’t be looking where I was looking.

She noticed. Of course she noticed.

“When you arrive in Paris,” she continued, her voice dropping lower, “you can reach out to me for anything. Anything at all.” She paused, her eyes locked on mine through the screen. “Any time of day, or night.”

She emphasized that last word—night—and winked.

“I’ll... I’ll keep that in mind,” I stammered.

“I look forward to working closely with you, Mark. Very closely.”

The call disconnected, leaving me staring at my reflection in the blank screen.

What the hell just happened?

I sat back in my chair, my mind reeling. Simone’s frankness was... unexpected. And those “arrangements” she’d mentioned, what exactly did that mean?

I thought about the way she’d looked at me. The deliberate reveal of her cleavage, the slow lick of her lips, the emphasis on night.

I imagined what those breasts would feel like in my hands. How that red lipstick might smudge if I kissed her.

No.

I shook my head sharply. I would never cheat on Amelia. I wasn’t that kind of person. I loved my wife. Fifteen years together—I’d been faithful every single day.

A knock on my door made me jump.

“Congrats, man!” Oliver, my only friend at work, and the assistant manager of sales walked in, grinning broadly. “Head of Marketing! That’s huge!”

“Thanks, Ollie.”

“Want to grab a drink after work? Celebrate properly?”

I glanced at my watch. Amelia wouldn’t expect me home for another two hours anyway.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

The bar was crowded with the after-work crowd, but Oliver had snagged us a corner booth. Two whiskeys sat on the table between us.

“So, Paris for six months,” Oliver said, raising his glass. “Living the dream.”

“I guess so.” I took a long sip, feeling the burn travel down my throat.

“You don’t sound excited.”

“I am. It’s just... telling Amelia is going to be tough. Six months is a long time. I’ll miss her.”

“She’ll understand. It’s your career.”

I nodded, but the knot in my stomach remained. I thought about Simone’s video call again, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out.

“You know Simone, Lucien’s assistant? She called me today to coordinate the transition.

She was... I don’t know. Flirty? She talked about Paris being ‘freeing’ and how expat spouses have ‘arrangements.’” I ran a hand through my hair.

“She was really pretty. Really sexy. And the way she was looking at me...”

Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “Was she making an offer?”

“It felt like it. But I’d never—I mean, I love Amelia. I wouldn’t cheat on her.”

“Who’s asking you to cheat?” Oliver leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Look, I know a lot of guys who’ve done overseas assignments. The opportunities are insane. But some of them—they bring their wives, and they both just... experience things together.”

“Experience things?”

“An open marriage. Short-term. Just for the assignment.” He took a drink.

“I know three couples who’ve done it. They come back and they’re more in love than ever.

It’s like—they get to fulfill all those hidden desires and fantasies, all that curiosity about who else is out there.

And in some weird way, it actually strengthens their marriage. Win-win for everyone.”

I stared at him. “You’re suggesting I ask my wife for an open marriage?”

“For six months! In Paris! Come on, Mark. You’re going to one of the most romantic cities in the world. Beautiful women everywhere. You’re telling me you’re not even a little bit curious?”

“And… if you want to sleep with Simone, this could be your only guilt-free way of doing it.”

I thought about Simone’s red lips. Her cleavage. Her slender fingers wrapped around that coffee cup. The way her poker-straight dark hair fell over her shoulders.

“I... I mean, yeah. But—I cannot lie to Amelia. I cannot use the excuse of an open marriage just so I can sleep with Simone.”

“If Amelia agrees to the open marriage agreement, I doubt she’d be snooping around to see if you had the hots for Simone before the arrangement. And don’t you think Amelia might want to experience something too? She’s been with you since college, right? You’re each other’s firsts?”

I nodded slowly.

“So maybe she’s curious too. Maybe she’d appreciate the freedom to explore a little. Then you both come back, you’ve gotten it out of your systems, and you appreciate each other even more. Your marriage gets stronger.”

The whiskey was making my head feel loose, my thoughts sliding into new patterns.

What if Oliver was right?

Six months was the perfect time for an experiment. Long enough to really experience things, short enough that it wouldn’t destroy what we have.

I loved Amelia more than I would ever love anyone. She was the perfect mother, the perfect wife. I would never trade the life I had with her for anything.

But what was wrong with a small experiment? Something that would make us appreciate each other even more when it was over?

And Paris. In Paris, of all places.

I thought about Simone again. Those red lips wrapping around something other than a coffee cup. Her breasts freed from that black bra. The sounds she might make when I…

Then I thought about Amelia. Sex with her was great—really, really good actually. She knew exactly what I liked, and after fifteen years together, we had a rhythm that worked.

But it was like... like having rocky road ice cream. Rocky road was my favorite flavor. I loved rocky road. But how long could someone eat the same ice cream flavor, even if it was their favorite? Didn’t people need variety?

I’d never experienced anything else. Not once in my entire adult life.

Maybe Amelia could find a date or two in Paris as well. If she couldn’t, I’d introduce her to some guys. Maybe I could ask them to take her out on a date. That way we’d both experience the city properly. She’d have some exciting encounters too. What was wrong with that?

It was practical. Modern. Mature.

Oliver was watching me, a knowing smile on his face. “You’re actually considering it.”

“Maybe.”

“Just talk to her. See what she says. Worst case, she says no and you spend six months being faithful and miserable while gorgeous Frenchwomen throw themselves at you.”

I laughed, but it sounded hollow.

We finished our drinks, and Oliver left, but I stayed for one more. I pulled out my phone and opened the voice memo app.

I needed to practice this. I needed to get the pitch right.

“Amelia, sweetheart,” I started, then stopped. Deleted it.

“Babe, I’ve been thinking about our relationship and how we can make it stronger...”

Delete.

“Listen, I love you more than anything, but I think we should talk about something that might sound crazy at first but actually makes a lot of sense...”

I kept recording, deleting, re-recording. I tested different approaches, different justifications. Nothing sounded right enough for Amelia to accept.

Maintaining our connection while having personal freedom? Sounds too professional.

Not wanting resentment to build up during six months apart? Sounds too frustrated.

Strengthening our foundation by exploring our curiosities in a safe, boundaried way? Sounds like I’m trying too hard.

Being modern and mature enough to handle something unconventional? Now, that’s not too bad.

By the time I left the bar, I had a dozen voice memos on my phone and a plan forming in my mind.

Tonight, I’d tell Amelia about the promotion. About Paris.

And then I’d propose the arrangement that would change everything.

Temporarily, of course.