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He cracks a smile, and our gazes snag. I force an exhale, finding it really hard not to grab him by his hand stitched lapels and back him into a wall. “And do me a favor,” I say.
He nods upward with his chin.
“Let me know if you’re not coming home tonight.”
“You’ll know as soon as I do.”
“Thanks.”
“Walk me out?” he asks.
I gesture toward the door, and Olivier leads the way. As I hold it open, and he walks past, his hand brushes my hip. My dick perks up like he just pulled a string attached to it. With his other hand, between two fingers, he holds out a card. Not like a business card or a letter, but like a credit card. I frown.
“The key to my place.”
I pluck it from him and put it in my pocket. “Thanks.”
“No matter where I wind up tonight,” he says, “I still hope to see you when I get back.”
28
OLIVIER
We make a show of it, Elodie and I, involving the wait staff and my getting on a knee to draw the attention of the other restaurant guests and their camera phones.
I recognize a few people well enough for them to avoid making eye contact with me, but it’s a whole new ballgame once Elodie accepts my proposal.
Everyone starts popping their heads out of their holes to give me a clap on the back and congratulations, once again proving that image is important, reputation is vital, but money is everything. An Arnaud-Lafayette wedding? No one will want to be left off that invite list no matter how many adult film stars I get into drunken car accidents with.
“I can’t wait to watch them scramble once we’ve set a date,” Elodie says behind a sip of my family’s champagne. “We’ll be booked with their invitations all Spring. I say we get married in the Hamptons in June.”
“June?” I ask. “As in three months from now?”
“I wasn’t under the impression we were supposed to be dragging this out.”
“Yeah, but—September, maybe—next year, ideally?”
“There’s no way we can pull off being happily engaged for over a year, Ollie.”
I’m glad to hear her acknowledging that. This whole farce will fare better once we’re actually married and no one expects us to spend time with each other anymore. Look—I don’t make the society rules. I just know how to follow them. But wait, what’s she saying?
I frown at her. “Bored with me already?”
The corners of her mouth turn down in displeasure. “I’m not exactly in love with our complete lack of chemistry.”
“What would you propose we do about that?” I regret the question the instant it leaves my mouth. She may take it a different way than it was intended. She might think I want more intimacy—one solution involving both of us—when what I want is the exact opposite.
“Do you mean like pre-marital counseling?”
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly. “No offense, El, but that’s the last thing I want.”
She looks at me like an alien just came out of my neck. “Oh, you mean me finding someone to fuck me like you’ve gone and done?”
Speaking of my neck, she gestures toward it.
“Is there any way you can trust someone?” I ask. “Like…to be discreet?”
“Are you nuts? In this town? You’re being stupid, Ollie. There’s no way once one of your girlfriends hears about the engagement, she’s not gonna go straight to the gossip columns. Or blackmail you.”
