Page 181 of My French Love Affair

Emma nods, then pauses, frowning.

“But Jacques must havesomemoney, right? How else is he affording all these extravagant gifts?”

She gestures towards the handbag of Leah’s that I had taken out with me last night, and Jas tilts her head, considering.

“He must havesomething, surely. I mean, you can’t just fake wealth to this level, can you?” she asks. “He’s buying Leah all these designer gifts, taking her out to the best restaurants, getting us into places that don’t even take reservations - he has to have money.”

Emma scoffs. “Yeah, butwhosemoney?”

They both turn to look at me, and I sigh, rubbing my temples.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Jas exhales sharply. “Okay, but let’s think about this logically. If he’s been pretending to be wealthier than he is, then one of two things will happen. Either the whole thing comes crashing down spectacularly in front of Leah, or -”

“- Or we still get into VIP for the Grand Prix, have an amazing fucking time, and let her deal with Jacques after,” Emma finishes smoothly.

I blink at them both. “So you’re saying we just… let her continue being fooled?”

“I’m saying we don’t ruin her fun prematurely,” Jas shrugs. “Leah’s a big girl. If we’re right about Jacques, she’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Exactly. And telling her now?” Emma waves a hand. “She’d just say we’re jealous. She’d never believe us.”

And that’s the truth of it. Leah has been absolutely besotted with Jacques since the second we got here. She’s convinced he’s the perfect billionaire future-husband she’s been looking for - rich, charming, and a little mysterious.

The moment we say something, she’ll dig her heels in and refuse to hear it.

I groan. Ihatewhen Emma is right.

“Besides, if we tell herbeforethe race and it all goes to hell, there goes our VIP access,” Jas smirks. “And I, for one, would like to drink champagne and watch overpriced cars go very,veryfast.”

Emma grins, raising her glass in mock salute. “Cheers to that.”

I roll my eyes, but I know they have a point.

I’ll keep it to myself -for now.

But something tells me this isn’t over.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Poppy

Lunch is long and lazy.

Leah is still off with Jacques, leaving just the three of us to lounge beneath wide parasols at one of Monaco’s prettiest bistros. The heat is relentless, but there’s a crisp ocean breeze that makes it bearable.

I’m slicing through my Niçoise salad when my phone vibrates on the tabletop. A text flashes across the screen, and I pause for a second before reaching for it.

Miss me yet, mon ange?

I bite back a smile, my stomach flipping in a way that I really,reallydon’t have time to unpack.

I can’t even begin to imagine how busy he is today - surely he has a million and one things to be doing.

Yet, somehow, he’s still finding time to text me.

I hover over my screen for a second, debating a response before settling on something light.