Page 217 of My French Love Affair

"Madame Taylor,” he clarifies. “She… declined the invitation, sir."

I go completely still.

She saidno?

She refusedto come to me?

The words don’t compute.

I don’t know what kind of game she’s trying to play here, but I’m not dealing with this crap.

Nobodytells me no.

My jaw clenches as my grip on my glass tightens.

The staff member, wisely, doesn’t say anything else.

"Where is she now?"

My voice is measured and even, but beneath it, I’m fuckingfurious.

"She returned to the Paddock Lounge."

I nod once, dismissing him without another word.

Because I need to find her.

Now.

* * *

I move fast.

Through the venue. Past the waiters, past security, past the lingering guests and the team members.

A few people glance at me as I walk by, curious and confused.

I don’t fucking care.

The staff at the entrance of the Paddock Lounge shift awkwardly as I approach, shooting me a confused look.

I don’t belong in this section. Not anymore. They know that I should be in my own space; with my team, with my sponsors.

Instead, I push straight past them without a word.

Nobody stops me.

Nobodydares.

I step inside, and my eyes find her immediately.

She’s sitting comfortably with her friends, drink in hand and looking completely at ease.

Like she didn’t just reject me. Like she wasn’t supposed to be somewhere else -with me.

I scan over the crowd that she’s with and spot that Jacques is there too.

A brunette - one of Poppy’s friends, I think - is perched on his lap, and fuckinghell, he must be almost twenty years her senior. His friends are there too, though keeping a wide berth from the other girls, who clearly aren’t interested.

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