CHAPTER 16
Mark
Lucien was practically glowing as I sat down across from his massive desk. He had that satisfied smile of someone who’d just won something he’d been chasing for a long time.
“Mark, wonderful news,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair. “I’ve finally found the perfect face for our lipstick campaign.”
Relief flooded through me. “That’s excellent! Who showed you the model? Which agency—”
“She’s not from an agency.” Lucien’s smile widened.
“She’s a true woman. Someone who doesn’t have to try hard to embrace her sensuality, her femininity.
Someone who is confident exactly as she is.
” He paused, his dark eyes gleaming. “Someone who may be someone’s wife, girlfriend, or mother, but whose biggest identity is simply being herself. ”
I nodded enthusiastically, my mind already racing. Maybe Simone’s boyfriend Hugo stepped in and showed him a model. Or maybe—
“The model is your wife, Mark. Amelia.”
The world stopped.
“What?” The word came out as barely a whisper.
“You heard that right.” Lucien stood and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “It’s Amelia. I just met her a couple of hours ago through my brother, Florin.”
My blood ran cold. “Your brother?”
“You know Florin, right? The artist Amelia is dating because you wanted an open marriage?” He actually air-quoted “open marriage,” his tone dripping with irony.
“Well, it seems your open marriage idea was such a blessing for me and my company. Who would have thought that one little idea would give the world a fresh, new face?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Because of your idea,” Lucien continued, turning to face me, “I have found the perfect woman.”
I raised an eyebrow, a spark of something—fear, jealousy, anger—igniting in my chest.
Lucien’s smile turned knowing. “I mean, the perfect woman for my campaign.”
He paused, giving me time to take in the madness.
“And maybe, if she agrees, the perfect woman to date.”
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. Swirls of jealousy and regret and embarrassment crashed over me in waves.
My boss knew Amelia and I were in an open marriage. And now he not only wanted Amelia to be the face of the campaign I was supposed to be running, but he also wanted to date her.
“Did you ask Amelia if she wants to be part of the campaign?” I managed, though I already knew the answer.
“Of course, Mark. I asked her.” Lucien returned to his desk, his movements unhurried. “And she said yes.”
“But since she’s still dating my brother,” Lucien continued, “I have to ask her if she’ll go out with me. Or, if she prefers, if she’d like to go out with both of us.” His smile was pleasant, professional. “Whatever the lady prefers.”
He leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious.
“I hope it won’t affect our professional relationship, Mark.”
Then his voice dropped to almost a growl. “Because it shouldn’t.”
I sat frozen, my mind reeling.
I would have to plan an entire campaign around Amelia. I’d been too foolish to see her worth. Too blind to realize she could set the world on fire if she wanted to.
And that’s when I realized: When I’d proposed opening our marriage, I’d never—not in a million years—thought Amelia would actually go out with anyone.
I’d always assumed she’d be waiting for me.
That she’d maybe go on a few obligatory dates to keep things “fair,” but ultimately she’d be there, constant and unchanging, when I was ready to come back to her.
I never imagined it would be me waiting for Amelia to return.
And now it was too late.
Amelia was going to be the face of the world’s most sought-after lipstick brand while I stood in the sidelines, planning a campaign centered around the woman I’d lost.
I could never compete with a billionaire like Lucien or a world-famous artist like Florin.
I’d destroyed my marriage for nothing.
Back at the apartment, I paced the living room like a caged animal.
That was it. No more games. No more pride.
If I needed to beg for Amelia’s forgiveness, I would. I’d get on my knees if that’s what it took. I’d confess everything—that the open marriage had been about sleeping with Simone without the guilt of cheating. That I’d been a manipulative, selfish bastard who didn’t deserve her.
I’d tell her—
A car engine roared outside.
I rushed to the window and my stomach dropped.
Lucien’s sleek, black Bugatti La Voiture Noire was parked outside. There were only three in Paris, and everyone at the office knew Lucien owned one. I’d always wanted to ride in that car, had fantasized about what it would feel like to have that kind of wealth, that kind of power.
And now my own wife was stepping out of it.
Lucien came around to her door and held out his hand. Amelia took it, emerging from the low-slung car with practiced grace.
She looked stunning in the golden sunset light. She was wearing a figure-hugging satin blouse in cream and a beautiful navy blue skirt that showed off her curves. She already looked like she belonged on magazine covers and not in this rental apartment.
Lucien leaned close and kissed her cheek, then whispered something in her ear.
Amelia threw her head back and laughed—a full, happy, uninhibited laugh. Why didn’t I get these laughs anymore?
Lucien held her hand as they walked toward the building entrance. Even as she moved to step inside, he kept hold of her fingers, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go.
What had they done together? Had they kissed? Made out in the back of that expensive car?
Had they already had sex?
As Lucien turned back toward his car, he looked up and saw me in the window.
He smiled. A knowing, almost predatory smile that answered every question I was afraid to ask.
Yes, he liked Amelia. Yes, he intended to pursue her. And yes, he would probably sleep with her.
My boss was going to fuck my wife.
Amelia entered the apartment a few minutes later, looking flushed and beautiful.
“Hey,” she said casually, setting down her purse.
“Hi, my love.” I moved toward her, intending to kiss her properly.
She patted my shoulder and gave me a brief, sisterly hug instead.
The casual dismissal stung worse than a slap.
“How was your day?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“You already know, don’t you?” She moved to the mirror in the hallway, checking her reflection. “Lucien asked me to be the face of your new campaign.”
“And?” I prompted, even though I knew what was coming.
“And he also asked me to date him.”
She said it so matter-of-factly. Like she was telling me about the weather.
“And what did you say?” My voice was almost down to begging.
Amelia turned and ruffled my hair like I was a puppy. “Of course I said yes, silly!”
My heart plummeted into my stomach.
It was already difficult enough competing for Amelia’s attention while she dated Florin. Now I had to compete with Lucien too? My billionaire boss? All while Amelia became the face of my campaign?
“Amelia, I just wanted you to know...” I swallowed hard. “I’m happy for you. That you landed this campaign.”
She was examining her lipstick in the mirror—the Femme Fatale shade, I realized. The exact product she’d be modeling.
“But are you sure you want to do it?” I added quickly.
“Mm-hmm.” She didn’t even look at me, just kept applying the lipstick with expert precision.
She looked stunning. No wonder Lucien was so determined to have her.
“And are you sure you want to continue with the open marriage?” The words came out almost pleading.
“Uh-huh.”
“But baby, don’t you think you—I mean, we’ve had enough fun outside this marriage already? Shouldn’t we end it now?” I moved closer, desperation leaking into my voice. “Do you really need to go out with two men?”
Amelia stopped mid-application. She capped the lipstick, dropped it in her bag, and walked over to me.
Her expression was completely neutral. Detached.
“Mark, sweetie, what’s wrong with me dating two men in an open marriage?” She tilted her head. “You can date two women as well. That’s not a problem.”
“See, Amelia, that’s the problem. I don’t want to date two women. In fact, I don’t want to date ANY women.”
“You mean you want to date men?” she asked with a straight face.
“What? No! That’s not what I meant!”
“Amelia, honey, look at me. Sit down here.” I took her shoulders gently and guided her to the couch. “Please.”
She looked irritated and glanced at her watch.
“Mark, I’ve had a long day and I’m tired. I’m meeting Lucien tomorrow—”
“Amelia, just hear me out. Please.” I grabbed her hands, not caring how desperate I sounded. “I cannot live without you. I’m so sorry for lying to you about Simone. I can beg if you want me to. But please, please, let’s end this open marriage thing right now.”
Amelia took my hands off her shoulders and spoke slowly, like she was explaining something to a child.
“Mark, it’s not about Simone anymore. You did what you had to. And right now, you’re just getting jealous because I’m getting dates and you’re not. Just relax. Maybe it’s a slow week. I’m sure you’ll get more dates next week.”
She was completely unreachable. Like she’d become a different person—more confident, not at all needy, not interested in me at all.
The Amelia I knew would have melted at my apology. Would have wrapped her arms around me and forgiven me instantly.
This Amelia looked at me like I was an inconvenience.
She kissed my cheek—a quick, perfunctory peck.
“Mark, I’m really sorry, but I’m exhausted. Can we talk later?”
“Amelia, wait—”
“Goodnight, Mark.”
And with that, she disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.