Page 254 of My French Love Affair

"A few places," he says easily. "The team has a private dinner planned, then we’ll move on to an afterparty. I suspect there will be plenty of champagne."

Emma grabs my hand like a child. "We’re going, right?”

I hesitate.

Not because I don’t want to go - but because I know how this will end.

I know what happens when we’re alone together, what happens when I let myself fall further into his world.

But then Frederic looks down at me, expectant, his smirk lazy, confident.

"Do I have a choice?" I mutter.

He leans in slightly, his voice a soft rasp.

"No."

My stomach knots, a thrill shooting through me. Still, I keep up the pretense and let out a long sigh, feigning exasperation.

"Fine. But only because I want more champagne."

Frederic’s smirk turns positively wicked.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself,mon ange."

Chapter Sixty-Six

Frederic

The night is a blur of flashing cameras, flowing champagne, and the kind of high that only comes from winning.

From the second I crossed that finish line, I haven’t stopped moving. The podium ceremony, the endless fucking press interviews, the PR obligations - all of it handled with ease.

It’s part of the job. I know how this works.

But now?

Now, I get to do what I want.

And what Iwantis Poppy Taylor pressed up against me, looking so fucking good that I almost give into the urge to carry her out of here and back to my hotel suite so that I can make sure she understandsexactlywhat she does to me.

The rooftop bar is packed, filled with the elite of Monaco - all drinking and celebrating under the glow of chandeliers and city lights. The music pulses, the bass vibrating beneath my feet, and everywhere I turn, people are congratulating me - clapping me on the back, raising glasses and throwing my name around like it’s the only thing that matters tonight.

I barely hear them.

Because the only thing thatdoesmatter is standing beside me.

She’s wearing a different dress this evening - a sleek little black number; one of her own designs, I think - and sipping champagne like she was made for this world.

And the best part?

She’s not shying away from it.

Not from the attention, not from the cameras -

Not from me.

Let them look. Let them fucking watch.

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