Page 256 of My French Love Affair

She sucks in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening around her glass, and I swear I see the goosebumps rise along her skin.

All eyes are on us, but I don’t care.

Let them watch. Let the whole world fucking see.

Because I didn’t just win the Monaco Grand Prix today.

I wonher.

* * *

The rest of the night is a blur of champagne, indulgence, and Poppy’s laughter ringing in my ears.

The party hasn’t stopped since we arrived, and I’m feelinggreat.

I’ve got my win, I’ve got my girl, and for once, I don’t have to think about anything else.

Until I do.

A commotion over by the bar catches my attention - a familiar kind of commotion, the kind that makes my stomach tighten.

A few voices rise over the music, sharp and aggressive, and when I glance up -

Merde.

Of course, it’s Jacques.

He’s backed against the bar, his body tense, two men crowding him. They’re speaking low, their voices tight with barely restrained anger, and Jacques -fuck, he’s doing that nervous thing where his hands twitch, his eyes darting.

I exhale sharply.

Of course, it’sthisagain.

“Everything okay?” Poppy’s voice is light, but when I turn to look at her, I can see the concern in her eyes.

She doesn’t miss much.

I force a smirk, brushing my thumb over the curve of her hip.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Her brow furrows. “Frederic…”

I cut her off with a quick kiss, pressing my lips to hers just enough to reassure her.

“I won’t be long.Promise.”

I leave her with her friends, weaving through the crowd with ease. People stop me, patting me on the back and raising glasses in my direction, but I barely acknowledge them.

And as I approach, I hear it.

“What the fuck do youmean?”

One of the men spits the words out like venom, leaning in closer. His buddy - taller and stockier - crosses his arms, waiting and watching as Jacques shifts uncomfortably.

His face is pale, his usual bravado slipping away fast as his gaze flickers toward me.

Fuckinghell.

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