CHAPTER 10
Amelia
The next morning, Mark and I sat side by side on the couch, the laptop balanced between us for our daily FaceTime with the kids.
Brook’s face filled the screen, her hair in pigtails that my mother had clearly spent time perfecting.
“Mommy! Guess what? We went to the park yesterday and I went down the big slide!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart!” I smiled, genuinely happy to see her excited face.
“Did you make any friends in Paris?” Brook asked.
“Yes, I made one friend.” I glanced at Mark from the corner of my eye. “And daddy made one friend too.”
Mark was tense beside me, his jaw tight. He’d barely said two words since I’d emerged from the bedroom this morning.
Noah pushed his way into frame. “Grandma says we can get a puppy! Can we, Mom? Please?”
“We’ll... we’ll talk about that when we get home,” I said, laughing.
We chatted for a few more minutes about school projects they were planning with Grandpa and cookies Grandma was helping them bake, and then said our goodbyes.
The screen went black, and the apartment felt suddenly too quiet.
Mark and I ate breakfast in silence. As I sipped on the coffee, I kept shifting in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked, his voice suddenly full of concern.
“Yes, just a little sore. But sore at all the right places.”
Mark’s hand tightened around his coffee mug, his knuckles going white. He stared into his cup. “Wow. That’s a lot of detail I didn’t need.”
“But I thought you wanted us to be honest and transparent in this open marriage.” I took a sip of my coffee, meeting his eyes. “If you want to tell me how it went with your boss’s secretary, I’d be happy to hear all about it.”
Mark opened his mouth, but before he could speak, my phone rang.
Florin’s name lit up the screen, and I felt a schoolgirl flutter I hadn’t experienced in years.
“Excuse me, honey. I need to take this.”
I stood and walked to the window, turning my back on Mark.
“Bonjour, ma belle,” Florin’s voice was warm, intimate.
“Hi,” I said softly, smiling despite myself.
“Last night was... there are no words for what last night was.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You are magnificent, Amelia. Absolutely magnificent.”
Heat crept up my neck. “It was pretty incredible.”
“I cannot wait another day to begin painting you. Are you free today? I would like you to come to my studio.”
My heart skipped. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that.”
“Parfait. Come at two o’clock. I will have everything ready.”
We said goodbye, and I stood there for a moment longer, staring out at the Paris street below, a smile still playing at my lips.
I’d completely forgotten about Mark.
When I turned around, he was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Who was that?”
“Florin. We’re meeting again today.”
I sat back down and took a bite of croissant, suddenly ravenous. “What about you? Do you have a new date lined up? Or will you be seeing Simone again?”
Mark’s head snapped up. “How do you know her name?”
“Oliver told me. At the party the other night.” I kept my voice casual, deliberately not mentioning that Oliver had also told me Mark had been wanting to sleep with Simone for almost a year.
“I’m sure she was good,” I said, spreading jam on my croissant. “You must be enjoying this arrangement.” I paused, then added with a smile, “As much as I am.”
Mark set down his coffee mug with a sharp clink. “Yes, about that—” There was worry in his voice, and irritation. “I was thinking maybe we should reconsider the duration of this open marriage thing.”
I cut him off. “But honey, we just started. Didn’t you say that if we experience this fully, we’ll appreciate each other more at the end of six months?”
“Yes, I did say that.” Mark ran his hand through his hair—that nervous gesture he always made when stressed. “But I don’t want you to do something you’re not completely comfortable with—”
“Oh, I am completely comfortable.” I looked at him directly. “I cannot believe we didn’t think of this sooner. I’m opening up my horizons, experiencing life in such new, exciting ways. All thanks to you, Mark.” I smiled sweetly. “I’m so lucky to have such an open-minded husband.”
“But—” Mark’s hand went through his hair again. He hadn’t shaved yet, and he looked miserable.
I knew that gesture, that ruffling of hair. Mark always did that when he was stressed about work, when something was weighing on him. There was a time I would have taken his hand, kissed it, assured him everything would be okay.
That was when I’d thought Mark would never do anything to betray my trust.
But he had lied.
Mark stayed quiet, still staring at his coffee.
“So you’re going again today, huh?” His voice dripped with jealousy and irritation.
That pissed me off. This was his idea. His grand plan. And now that I was genuinely enjoying myself, he had a problem?
“Yes, I’m going to Florin’s studio today.” I stood and carried my plate to the sink. “He wants to paint me.”
I was about to say “paint a nude of me,” but decided to spare him the details.
“Glad to hear it,” Mark said through gritted teeth and continuing to sip his coffee.
The open marriage arrangement was keeping me so busy that I had forgotten to keep our fridge stocked. I decided to squeeze in a quick grocery run before going to meet Florin. As I was picking through the vegetables, I heard someone call my name.
“Amelia? Amelia Davis?”
I turned to see a woman in a tight leather dress that looked completely out of place among the produce and baguettes.
Her breasts were practically bulging out, fighting to escape the confines of the dress.
She was beautiful in that polished, high-maintenance sort of way.
Perfect makeup, not a hair out of place.
“Yes?”
“I am Simone.” Her accent was thick, her smile bright. “I have seen your picture with your children on Mark’s desk. I recognized you immediately.”
Simone? Ah, the Simone. She was completely different than I had imagined, and it was a little unsettling to realize that Mark had been wanting to sleep with someone who was so…so different from me in every aspect.
“Hello, Simone.” I managed.
“I just wanted to say that I’m very impressed that you are so accepting of Mark’s relationship with me.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Not many wives would be so... modern.”
This was what Mark meant when he talked about being open and understanding, about opening our horizons. Maybe chatting with your husband’s girlfriend at the grocery store was just the new normal that came with this arrangement.
I decided to stay cordial.
“Well, we believe in honesty and transparency,” I said, echoing Mark’s words back at her.
“May I ask you something?” Simone’s voice dropped lower.
“Of course.”
“I really enjoyed spending the night with Mark, but...” She bit her lip. “I don’t think I satisfied him completely. Although he was very, very good...”
I waited, saying nothing.
“What should I do so Mark is more interested in me? Are there any positions he particularly likes? What is his... thing?”
I thought about my last time with Mark in the pottery studio. The clay everywhere, the way he’d dominated me completely. The way he’d shoved his muddy fingers in my mouth and ordered me to suck them clean. The way he’d called me his good little slut.
Simone had no idea what Mark really liked.
“Mark’s thing is kinky sex,” I said matter-of-factly. “He likes it rough. He likes to dominate. Maybe you could try that?”
Simone’s eyes widened. “And you? Do you like to be dominated?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I smiled. “I love it rough too.”
“Could you... could you teach me some moves?” Simone asked desperately.
“I’m sorry, but she’s busy today.”
A deep male voice came from behind us. I turned to see Florin standing there, a slight smile on his perfect face.
He came forward and leaned close to me. “Oh, you love it rough, huh?” His gray-blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He leaned down and kissed my cheek, completely ignoring Simone’s presence.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my heart doing that ridiculous flutter again.
“My art supply store is across the street.” He gestured toward the shop front visible through the window. “I was there when I saw you through the glass. I could not resist coming to say hello.”
I turned to Simone, who was staring at Florin with her mouth slightly open.
“Simone, this is Florin. Florin, this is Simone—she works with Mark.”
Florin was beautiful in the morning light streaming through the store windows. His hair was artfully tousled, and he wore a semi-transparent linen shirt that showed the defined muscles of his arms and chest.
Simone’s jaw remained open as she took him in. She looked smitten.
“Wait—are you Florin Blanchet?” Her voice went up an octave. “The Florin Blanchet?”
Florin nodded, but kept his eyes fixed on my face.
“Oh my God, I cannot believe I am standing next to you!” Simone gushed. “The most sought-after artist in Paris!”
He gave her a brief, polite smile.
“What are you painting next?” she asked, leaning forward in a way that made her breasts almost pop out.
“I am going to paint my masterpiece,” Florin said, still not looking at her. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”
He delicately planted a kiss on my forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear with such tenderness it made my breath stop.
“I will see you at the checkout line,” he said softly, taking my grocery basket from my hands.
As he walked away, Simone turned to me with wide eyes.
“Are you dating him? Florin Blanchet?” Her voice was filled with disbelief and unmistakable envy. “Women go crazy for him. He is known to be very selective about who he dates.”
I nodded. “Yes. Though it’s nothing serious.”
“How did you find him?” Simone asked, her earlier confidence completely gone.
I smiled, remembering the gallery, the way Florin had looked at me like I was art come to life.
“Actually,” I said, “he found me.”
I left Simone standing there among the vegetables, her perfect facade cracking just slightly, and went to find Florin at the checkout line.
He was waiting for me, my groceries already packed, a smile on his face that made me feel like the only woman in Paris.
Maybe the only woman in the world.