Page 184 of My French Love Affair

Jas, sensing my anxiety, nudges my arm.

“Come on, let’s get back to the hotel. No use spiraling in the middle of the street.”

I nod, reluctantly handing her phone back before following them.

Back in the comfortable, familiar safety of our suite, I throw myself onto the couch, my mind whirring.

There are already comments under my most recent posts asking if it’s me. People are tagging me oneverything, scrolling back through my posts from while I’ve been in Monaco, trying to connect the dots.

But I refuse to engage.

Instead, I focus on the one thing Icancontrol: my content.

I decide to try and act normal, and normal for me looks like uploading more photos. I post pictures of my outfits, of beach clips, casual behind-the-scenes snapshots of our trip - anything to distract from the speculation.

The comments still roll in, but I ignore them.

For now, I’ll pretend everything is normal.

And I desperately hope that this whole thing blows over before it reaches Frederic.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Poppy

The second my phone rings, I know who it is.

I hesitate for a beat before answering - because, honestly, I’m still processing everything. The article, the sudden surge of followers, the fact that I spent last night screaming his name against a penthouse window.

But I answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“You told me you were a fashion design student,mon ange,” Frederic’s voice purrs through the speaker, all smooth and teasing. “Notan influencer.”

I stop mid-step, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.

His voice shouldnothave this effect on me.

I roll my eyes, adjusting my bag over my shoulder as I continue strolling through Monaco’s winding streets, my headphones tucked into my ears.

“I’m not an influencer,” I correct, my tone dry. “And it’sfashion design with business management,for your information.”

“How very serious.”

“Iamserious,” I say, ignoring the way his teasing tone makes my stomach tighten. “My social media is for my designs, that’s all. It’s par for the course these days.”

“Of course,” he muses. “And you justhappenedto gain thousands of followers overnight for your designs?”

I sigh, glancing up at the bright Monaco sky.

“No. Apparently, Ihappenedto be seen with you.”

Frederic chuckles, the sound deep and entirely too pleased with itself. I scowl at the image of his smug face.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, but it is,” he counters smoothly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so flustered.”

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