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  “Well, I knew the two of you were right for each other,” Cole says, pointing at us.

  “Sure. You’ve mentioned that before,” Daniel says.

  Cole absently twirls a pen. “Remember that waitress in Avignon? At the café next door to the hotel?”

  “The one we met at breakfast?” Daniel supplies.

  “I remember her,” I say, an image of her freckled face flashing before me.

  Where is this going?

  Cole grins like a cat. “She wasn’t a waitress. She owns the café. Her name is Solange. She’s married to Colin, our front desk manager at that hotel. I talked to the two of them and I made sure she personally waited on you that morning a month ago. Made sure she planted that tip about the hotels.”

  “No wonder he was so chatty that morning. He probably wanted to make sure her shift had started. So she could wait on us.”

  Daniel blinks.

  Nothing surprises Daniel. But this nugget seems to have knocked the wind out of him. Cole nods, looking supremely satisfied with our reaction.

  “I knew about Le Pavillon,” he continues. “I knew the inns were on the market, that the chance to visit them would be too enticing for the two of you to pass up. And I had a feeling that the more time you spent together away from Paris, with just each other, the more you’d realize that you each had everything that the other person could ever want.” He says it like Inspector Poirot at the end of a whodunit, revealing how the heist was pulled off.

  Daniel’s grin widens, his eyes going bigger, brighter. “You’re a matchmaker,” he says, amazement in his voice.

  “Cupid. Call me Cupid.”

  I march up to Cole and throw my arms around him. “You are Cupid, and I couldn’t be happier. Thank you so much for sending that waitress to us.”

  Daniel offers Cole a hand to shake. “You were right, mate. I’ve never been happier to say you were right. And you were absolutely right.”

  “I know,” he says, grinning. “I know.”

  Later that night on the way to the concert, I tell Daniel I’ll be right back, then I pop into the ladies’ room in The Extravagant. At the sink, I spot two familiar faces. The couple we met in Giverny who live here in Vegas. The blonde is touching up her wife’s lipstick. They look even more in love.

  “Elodie! Hazel!”

  They both turn to me, recognition in their gazes. “Violet!” Elodie says with a smile.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Actually, my name is Scarlett.”

  “Oh. Did I remember it wrong?”

  “You remembered it right. We were doing a little…role-play that day in Giverny.”

  Elodie’s bright eyes sparkle. “Is that so?”

  Hazel’s smile turns curious, a bit naughty. “Tell us more. You were so inspiring with your stories. My wife enjoyed them quite a bit. As did I.”

  “We traveled through France as business partners, all the while pretending to be husband and wife.”

  Hazel’s jaw drops. “You’re not married? Are you not together?”

  “What about the story about the sex on the desk? The roughness? The pain. Please tell me that wasn’t made up?” Elodie sounds almost devastated.

  “At the time, it was fiction. But not for long. It’s been like that for real since then. And we are most definitely together now. Funny thing – it took us playing pretend to fall in love for real.”

  Hazel hooks her arm through Elodie’s, tugs her closer, gazes at her with heat and love. “We should pretend to be strangers later.”

  Elodie slides her hand down Hazel’s arm. “Oh yes. I’ll pick you up at the bar. See if I can convince you to go home with me.”

  “Maybe I’ll play hard to get,” Hazel purrs.

  “Maybe I’ll be so persuasive, we’ll be playing other games.”

  “Mmm. You’re on,” Hazel says, then turns to me. “By the way, I’m glad you and your man are together for real. Even though it was pretend, it never looked that way.”

  “Sounds like it never really was,” Elodie adds.

  “It never really was,” I echo, then wave goodbye to the happy women.

  I leave shortly after, and a few minutes later, Daniel and I meet up with Nadia outside the theater. My good friend pulls me aside before we go in. “I’ve been dying to catch up with you. You’re never going to believe who called me.”

  “Chris Hemsworth?”

  She cracks up. “Even better. Crosby Cash.”

  My brow knits. “Your brother’s best friend? The guy you’ve crushed on forever? The baseball player for the San Francisco Cougars?”

  She nods, wiggling her brows. “That’s who. He’s the best man at my brother’s wedding.”

  “Ooh la la. What did he call you for?”

  “He wanted to make sure I’d save a dance for him at the wedding in a few weeks.”

  “Someone wants to dance with you.”

  She scoffs. “He’s just being friendly.”

  I grin. “Friendly or not so friendly, sounds like the start of a good story.”

  “You never know.”

  “You never do. But I’d be willing to bet on it,” I say.

  We head into the theater and enjoy one hell of a show.

  The next night, Daniel and I are in New York, walking along Park Avenue, heading to a restaurant.

  He opens the door for me. I flash him a smile. “You’re okay with this?”

  “So good with it.” All I hear in his voice is certainty and excitement.

  My parents are waiting for us at a table.

  They rise and smile, both at me and at the man I love. They’ve talked to him on FaceTime. They’ve seen photos of him. He’s not a stranger.

  But this is the first time they’re meeting him. As we reach the table, my father greets me with a hug, extends a hand for Daniel to shake, then changes his mind.

  “Wait. Bring it in for a hug,” my father says.

  Then he hugs Daniel, and Daniel says, “So good to meet you, Mr. Slade.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet the man who makes my daughter so very happy.”

  Next, my mother hugs him. “The happiest. You make her the happiest.”

  When Daniel pulls back, he offers them a smile that warms my soul. “And I intend to do so for the rest of my life.”

  Once the food arrives, my father takes a picture of it and sends it to all of us.

  When we’re back in Paris, we wander past the Palais Garnier one evening. Daniel checks the program at the window, as he always does. This time, his eyes light up like he’s seen a magic trick.

  “Ayo is playing this weekend,” he says, with a childlike wonder I haven’t seen in him before.

  “Who’s that?” I ask, figuring she’s some world-renowned star of the classical music circuit.

  “She’s a violin student. Worked as a ticket taker the night I realized I’d be a fool to lose you,” he says, then tells me of his encounter with a young prodigy. “She’s doing a showcase with other students performing alongside the orchestra.”

  “We must get tickets,” I say.

  He practically rushes to the counter to buy them.

  That weekend, we sit in the front row, and the man I love is wildly, incandescently happy to be listening to others make music.

  Final Epilogue

  Scarlett

  * * *

  A few months later

  * * *

  The chandelier is stunning. It catches the light from the window at the far end of the hall like a prism.

  I gaze up at it, loving it.

  “Looks like Mr. Crystal worked his magic,” I say, regarding the chandelier for the first time even though it was installed a few months ago. But this is the first time we’ve been back in Avignon since it fell.

  Daniel stares up at it too. “It’s perfect. Funny, too, because that was the night that set us in motion.”

  “We didn’t kiss that night,” I point out as we head down the hall to the elevator.

  “No, but I
entertained naughty thoughts of you when you returned to your room.”

  “So, just like every other night, then?” I tease.

  “Exactly. But the next morning was when a certain waitress planted an idea in our heads.”

  “Such a good waitress,” I say as we step into the elevator.

  “And thus proving my point that the chandelier was the start of it all.”

  I arch a dubious brow. “If you say so,” I say as my stomach rumbles.

  “We better feed you, Mrs. Brahms.”

  “Breakfast is always a good idea.”

  At the restaurant, I order the berries again.

  Daniel orders the eggs.

  From a male waiter.

  As he leaves, I shrug an oh well. “Too bad our favorite waitress, ahem, café owner, isn’t here today.”

  Daniel’s lips curve into a grin. “Or is she?”

  I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”

  The click-clack of shoes on tiled floor meets my ears. I turn, blinking when I see the auburn-haired woman who gave us the tip on the hotels, courtesy of Cole.

  Solange.

  “Good morning,” Daniel says to her, sounding pleased.

  “Good morning indeed. I have something to add to your breakfast,” she says, grinning, as she hands Daniel a blue velvet box.

  “Merci.”

  “De rien.” Solange spins on her heel and walks away.

  The air flees my lungs.

  I can’t even catch my breath as Daniel grins, rises from his chair, then bends down on one knee.

  I gasp.

  I bite the corner of my lip. I’ve been hoping for this, wanting it so much.

  “Scarlett, when that chandelier fell, it brought us together in a rather unexpected way. It made me think of all the possibilities that had been brewing in the back of my mind, brought them to the forefront. And then our trip and the time away together made everything so much clearer.”

  I bring my hand to my lips, trembling, tears already sliding down my cheeks.

  “And the whole time we were pretending, it never felt like pretend. It always felt exactly like how we were meant to be together.”

  I nod vigorously. “Me too. It felt so real.”

  “It’s always felt real. Everything with you has felt real, and safe, and daring at the same damn time. You’re brilliant and fascinating, warm and loving. I love you more than music, and I want to spend the rest of our lives making up pretend married names while knowing that you have my real one . . . if you’ll take it.”

  “I will. I do. I love you,” I say in a rush, then he slides a stunning diamond on my finger. I can barely see it for the tears in my eyes.

  But it doesn’t matter. I know that this time is for all time, and that we are the only ones for each other.

  I tug him close, kiss him hard, and tell him yes a million times over.

  Later that week, after we return to Paris and go home to the flat that we share, he takes out his violin and plays me some Beethoven.

  When he finishes, I run a hand along his scar, then press a kiss to it. I meet his gaze and say, “I will always be your audience.”

  “You’re the only audience I’ll ever want.”

  And that’s enough. For both of us.

  * * *

  THE END

  * * *

  Dying to know what happens with Nadia and her brother’s best friend? The sexy, charming all-star baseball player? Find out in THE VIRGIN RULE BOOK, available everywhere at a preorder discount!

  Cole’s story can be found in ONE EXQUISITE TOUCH.

  Let me make a few things clear. I didn't go to the wedding intending to dance with the best man, to dare him to show me a very sexy pic on his phone, or to accidentally kiss him in the hotel elevator after the reception ended.

  * * *

  But you know how it goes. Things just happen at weddings...

  The next day, Crosby and I agree to put all those shenanigans behind us. The fun-loving, stupidly gorgeous, all-star baseball player might be my brother's best friend, but he's my friend too and has been for years, so it's easy to move on, especially since I have a high-profile business to run.

  * * *

  But since he's newly single and I'm always single, it turns out we both desperately need plus ones. We agree to "publicly date" over the next two weeks of galas, parties and events before his baseball season begins.

  * * *

  The only trouble is the more time I spend with Crosby, the more I keep imagining how much I want him to take my V-card.

  And when I broach the possibility with Crosby, his answer surprises the hell out of me.

  * * *

  ORDER THE VIRGIN RULE BOOK!!

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