Page 97 of Until He Confesses

“The sex,” I lied, or maybe it wasn't a lie because at that point, they rightfully were the same thing to me.

“You're in Paris,” she told me. “Why not go out like you planned, with that gorgeous dress, and meet someone else? I know you won't sleep with them, but a nice flirtatious conversation may be harmless, and who knows, you just might meet the actual love of your life. But that's too bad because you’re not moving to Paris and leaving me.”

I laughed.

“You could come with me?”

“Leave New York for Paris? Never. Get up and go out, and let the cool September breeze chase away your horniness.”

Her words were just what I needed, and although I still wasn’t motivated, I was able to take the first step into getting up for a shower. In no time, the warm water was cascading down on me, soothing away my fatigue and listlessness, and by the time I emerged and was air-drying my hair, I felt a hundred times better and more hopeful. Just as I returned to my bedroom, I noticed that a message and missed call were waiting for me. To my surprise, they were from Lucas.

This was absolutely not the distraction I needed or wanted, and I considered ignoring him. Just then the phone began to vibrate in my hand, and I answered it.

“Hello?” I asked, genuinely curious as to why he was contacting me since I had told him that I would be out of the country for a few days.

“Hey,” he said, and I couldn’t help but make a joke.

“If you want to request my presence, sir, you’ll have to send a plane because I’m in Paris, as you well know.”

I turned around to look at my shiny hair in the mirror, but the smile was soon wiped off my face.

“I know,” he said. “You told me. I’m in Paris also.”

My heart briefly stopped in my chest.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. I got an invitation for a fashion event that I decided to respond to, so here I am.”

Well that much was apparent, and I couldn't help but acknowledge how annoyed this made me because if he had hounded me like he used to, then I just might have fulfilled my fantasy of being fucked senseless on a plane, his plane. But instead, for some reason, he had chosen to come on his own, and I didn’t understand it.

“Okay,” I replied, still confused.

He briefly went silent, and then he asked, “Where are you staying? I want to deliver a dress to you.”

I was taken aback by these words.

“A dress? For what?”

“I have front-row seats at the Gucci show tonight. Do you want to come with me?”

My mouth dropped open. My entire body screamed an immediate yes in response, but I wasn't just going to blurt it out and dump my already very exciting and reasonable itinerary for the evening.

But this was front-row seats at a freaking fashion show. And there were sure to be celebrities there, not that I particularly cared, but it was just a crowd that I never imagined I would ever be in the middle of, and I didn't care one bit. But damn, it wasn’t an experience I wanted to miss either. But then there were sure to be cameras and paparazzi everywhere, and so all over again, I was confused by his intentions.

“Going together is equivalent to announcing our relationship, isn't it?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he replied. “But we know it's not the case, so what does it matter? They can speculate all they want. Plus, I'm just a businessman, so I don't expect anyone to be interested in or fascinated with me.”

“Businessman? You mean one of the richest men in the world. Lucas, please come down to earth, and people will care. You've never been photographed with-”

“Go on,” he said and I almost rolled my eyes. He was always onto me, forever and always, and it was aggravating as hell.

“My point is this will cause unnecessary attention so I'll have to decline. I have a nice evening prepared for myself, so I think I'll stick to that.”

“I'll join you then,” he said and I stopped once again.

“What? You'll leave that fashion show to join me in local bar and restaurant hopping?”