Chapter 14 Chapter 14
Lily
“Hello, Sebastian,” she says warmly, her voice lilting with familiarity as she places a perfectly manicured hand gently on his shoulder. There’s a flicker in her eyes—something personal, something that speaks of shared history.
Sebastian looks up at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he offers a polite nod. “Hi, Giana,” he replies, his voice measured. Then he turns his head slightly, meeting my gaze with a quick glance—brief, but telling.
“Long time no see,” Giana continues, her tone light but laced with something deeper. Her hand lingers on him for a beat too long, and I sit perfectly still, watching the exchange in silence.
Everything about her body language says she’s used to being close to him—too close. And yet, here we are, in the middle of Paris, with her presence casting a sudden shadow over our evening.
The tension sharpens the air the moment she turns her gaze toward me, her eyes scanning me head to toe like I’m a puzzle she wasn’t expecting to solve tonight.
“And who’s she?” Giana asks smoothly, her voice light, but her tone veiled in curiosity—or challenge. Her smile is polite but edged. “Friend? Business partner?”
Sebastian doesn’t flinch. His voice is quiet but firm. “My wife.”
The word lands like a thunderclap.
“She’s my wife,” he repeats louder, looking straight at her. “Lily Manchini.” His hand gestures to me without hesitation. “Lily, meet Giana.”
Giana straightens slightly, blinking as if she misheard him. “Wife?” she echoes, her eyes darting between the two of us. Her smile falters, and something unreadable flashes in her expression. “When did that happen?”
“Four days ago,” Sebastian replies without missing a beat. “We’re in Paris for our honeymoon.”
She blinks again, recovering with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s… quick, Seb. Isn’t it?” Her voice softens into something more personal as she leans forward against the table, narrowing the distance between them. Her posture, her tone—it’s all familiarity and a subtle challenge wrapped in silk.
I remain silent, my hands wrapped around my cocktail glass, watching.
But Sebastian’s eyes stay cool. He doesn’t entertain the moment. “So,” he says with an edge of dismissal, “how’s work, Giana?”
She chuckles, brushing back a strand of hair as if nothing awkward just happened. “Work’s great,” she says, then turns her attention to me, her smile forced and bright. “Nice to meet you, Lily.”
“Nice to meet you too, Giana,” I respond, keeping my tone polite but firm, matching her game without blinking.
Just then, the waiter arrives with our food, setting down the plates as the aroma fills the space and momentarily cuts the tension.
“Well,” Giana says, already stepping back. “I’ll call you, Seb. Maybe we can catch up before you leave?”
Sebastian nods once, noncommittally. “Sure. See you around.”
Her gaze flicks to me again, her smile returning as she offers a half-wave. “Have a lovely evening, Lily.”
“You too,” I reply evenly, watching her walk away, her figure tall and poised—but not before catching the unmistakable stiffness in Sebastian’s jaw.
The food is warm, aromatic, but my chest is tight. I take my first bite in silence, deliberately avoiding his eyes. Across the table, Sebastian doesn’t dare to meet my gaze either. The air between us is thick with unspoken questions—her perfume still seems to linger like a ghost.
I lift my hand and signal the waiter. “Excuse me.”
He approaches swiftly, his hands folded behind his back. “Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”
“Could I have a bottle of your finest red wine, please?” I ask, my voice laced with polite restraint.
“Of course, madame,” he replies with a nod, and within moments, he returns with a sleek bottle and two crystal glasses balanced carefully on a silver tray. He opens it with a quiet pop, the scent of aged red escaping into the air.
“Thank you,” I say, resting my hand lightly on the rim of the bottle before he can pour. “It’s fine—I’ll handle it myself.”
He bows slightly and takes his leave.
I pour the wine, not daintily—but deliberately. The glass fills nearly to the brim, crimson swirling in the dim light. I take a mouthful in one long sip, letting the burn of it settle deep in my chest.
Only then do I feel Sebastian’s eyes on me.
“Will you drink the entire bottle?” he asks, his voice calm, but I can hear the edge—the underlying concern trying to disguise itself as casual conversation.
I nod, unapologetic. I don’t flinch.
“No way,” he says, softer now but laced with warning. “That’s a high vol. You’ll be drunk.”
“Let me enjoy,” I reply, sharp and steady. I lift the glass again, cradling the stem between my fingers as I take another sip.
“Lily,” he murmurs, his tone no longer light, “that’s a lot.”
There’s a beat of silence. My eyes meet his across the table, steady and unwavering now.
“Who was she?”
The question lands like a match striking dry wood. The flicker of surprise in his eyes is brief—but not invisible.
He swallows, jaw tightening as he sets his utensils down slowly. And still, I hold his gaze, waiting—not just for an answer, but for the truth.
“A friend,” he says.
I stare at him, my fingers tightening slightly around the stem of the wine glass. “She didn’t look like just a friend, Sebastian,” I murmur before taking another long, slow sip, letting the bitterness of the wine mask the bitterness rising inside me.