Chapter 5

The art fair in London was a small, exclusive one, attended by serious collectors and some important artists.

A handful of fine galleries had exhibits there.

Amanda had only brought half a dozen of her gallery's high-priced paintings, and she had appointments with some of their best British clients.

It was an honor to be included in the fair, which was being held at a small hall in Mayfair on Albemarle Street, tastefully decorated and the perfect setting for high-end art.

She always stayed at Claridge's, and Olivier was staying at Brooks's club as the guest of a friend.

The book fair he was attending was more of a "salon"

than a fair, and was attended by a less elite crowd than Amanda's clients.

He had scheduled several appointments with British authors, and a few publishers he knew well.

He had a number of people to see but had promised to spend time with her in the evening.

He called her on her cellphone at six o'clock.

She was still talking to clients in the small booth she had set up, and they were drinking champagne.

She invited Olivier to join them, and he managed to get there just before seven.

The art fair was open until nine, and then people went to dinner at various fancy restaurants.

Olivier enjoyed meeting the people Amanda introduced him to, and they left the fair together when the last of her clients left at eight-thirty.

He had made a reservation at Harry's Bar, where he was a member, and it was one of her favorite restaurants.

They served delicious Italian food and had a very elite membership.

Amanda was looking forward to spending the evening with Olivier and hearing about his meetings that day.

He wanted to introduce several new British authors in France and establish an exchange with the right British publishing house to translate some of his French authors.

It would add a new dimension to what he could provide for his authors now.

He was creative and ambitious, and excited about his work, just as she was.

They were an even match, which was new for her.

There had always been an imbalance in her relationships with men before.

This time she loved the idea of being with someone whose energy and goals matched hers.

They had drinks at Claridge's after dinner, and Olivier made no attempt to come upstairs.

He didn't want their first night together to come at the end of a long workday, when they were both tired and distracted.

He said he wanted their time together to be special, and Amanda agreed.

She'd been running since eight o'clock that morning, with a breakfast meeting that started her day.

By the time she left him in the lobby she was exhausted, but had loved the evening.

Olivier was thoughtful and kind, well-mannered and wonderful to talk to.

For the first time in her life, she felt as though she was with the right man, on the same path, headed in the same direction.

So far, there hadn't been a single unpleasant moment and nothing to cause her concern.

She wasn't sure how well Lulu would take to him, but he said he liked dogs.

They spent five days in London over a long holiday weekend, and on their last night, Olivier wanted to spoil Amanda and took her to Murano in Mayfair for dinner.

She had concluded three important deals that day, and he had found a British publisher he wanted to work with.

The trip had been a success for both of them.

They had much to celebrate after their first time away together, and they had been restrained.

Olivier had suggested Saint-Tropez for their first romantic weekend, which sounded like fun to her, and they had agreed to wait until then.

They had just finished a delicate pasta dish, with caviar first, and were drinking a very fine bottle of Chassagne-Montrachet, when he turned to her quietly, talking about their upcoming weekend in Saint-Tropez.

A friend of Olivier's was lending them his house.

It sounded romantic and wonderful, and like a dream come true.

"We can go to the Hotel du Cap in Cap d'Antibes, if you prefer."

It was the most exclusive hotel in Europe, Amanda had stayed there several times with her father and hadn't been back since.

She couldn't justify spending that kind of money on a hotel for herself.

Maybe for a honeymoon or a romantic tryst.

"But we'll have more privacy at my friend's house.

It's fine with me either way.

We don't need to hide.

I haven't discussed it with you yet, Amanda.

I'm married, but my wife and I have an understanding.

We lead entirely separate lives."

She stared at him in silence for a minute, unable to speak.

She felt as though he had just shot her in the chest, more precisely her heart, and it took her breath away.

For a second, she thought she was going to faint.

"You what ?"

"We have an understanding,"

he repeated in a gentle voice.

"You waited until now to tell me that you're married?"

He had been courting her for over a month, with roses and dinners and kisses, and a flood of texts and phone calls.

Pascal was right.

She felt as though Olivier had dropped a grand piano on her chest.

She could barely breathe.

"I wanted to tell you before we go away together.

It doesn't change anything between us or what we've been doing until now.

I'm completely free to lead my own life.

But I thought you should know."

"Why didn't you tell me in the beginning?"

she asked him, looking deep into his eyes, searching for the answer to her question.

Was he a practiced liar, and a habitual cheater? She could find no acceptable reason why he hadn't told her.

"I wanted you to get to know me better before I told you.

I wanted you to see how free I am.

Stephanie, my wife, travels most of the time, and even when she's in Paris, I do what I want and so does she.

There are no questions asked, no jealous scenes.

The marriage was a mistake right from the beginning.

We were both very young, and we didn't know each other well enough.

We were from the same circles, but we're very different people.

She's a very cold person, and we grew up to want very different things.

She's deeply involved in equestrian circles and travels all over Europe with her horses and her friends from that world.

We were strangers from the beginning, and we made the mistake of having a child to try to make the relationship work.

It didn't.

Children are a magnifier, and it made everything worse.

Stephanie is not maternal, and she had no interest or ability to be a mother and wife."

"You have a child?"

Amanda said in a choked voice.

He had never mentioned that either.

Everything Pascal had warned her of was true.

It was her worst nightmare.

"I have two sons.

They're good boys.

I've been married for twenty-six years."

He wanted to tell her everything now and make a clean breast of it.

He thought it was time, and Amanda thought it was long overdue.

"My oldest son, Guillaume, is twenty-five, and he's as horse mad as his mother.

He works on a horse ranch in Argentina and plays polo.

Edouard was an accident.

He's twenty-three and an intern at J.P.

Morgan in Geneva.

They're both fine young men.

I don't see a lot of them, but I was mother and father to them when they were growing up, and I spend time with them when they come home, which isn't often now.

Stephanie was never able to create a warm home for them, so it was up to me.

She was gone most of the time and she still is."

"Do you live in the same house when she comes home?"

Amanda was getting a very different picture from the one he had presented to her for the last month, of a free man with no attachments.

"I do.

She's hardly there, and we don't ask each other awkward questions."

"Why didn't you get divorced?"

She was stunned by everything he had told her.

"Tradition, her family.

My parents are gone now, but no one in either of our families has ever been divorced.

We stayed together for the boys when they were young, and eventually you settle into a way of life, and it's easier not to take everything apart.

There was no reason to.

It has worked the way it's been.

I could never see the point of getting divorced unless I met someone else I wanted to marry, and I never did.

This seemed more respectable to us, and it makes sense financially.

We're not each living on half of what I earn.

Financially, supporting one household makes more sense for all of us.

And she feels that being married gives her status and protection.

She does what she wants and so do I.

We don't interfere in each other's lives."

He said it all as though it was perfectly normal and reasonable, but it wasn't to Amanda, who was shocked.

"So, you stayed married to someone you don't love?"

"I love her as a sister and a friend.

She's the mother of my children."

He said it with respect.

"And you date other women?"

"I have,"

he said, honest now, a month late from Amanda's perspective.

"I haven't in a while.

I've been busy working, and no one has caught my eye in a few years, until you came along, and snagged my heart."

Olivier reached out to touch her hand and she pulled it away.

She didn't want him to touch her now, or kiss her.

He was a married man, and he had lied.

Sins of omission seemed as grave to her as sins of commission.

He had led her to believe he was single.

And he had two sons and a wife he still lived with when she was in town.

Pascal had suggested that maybe his wife was away, and he'd been right.

Amanda had wanted to believe he was free, and he had wanted her to, but he was anything but.

She had heard stories like this before from married men who wanted to go out with her, and even married friends.

But she had no respect for the dishonest lives they were living.

In her eyes, they were cheaters, all of them, no matter what kind of agreements they had.

"I must have too much American blood in my veins,"

she said coldly.

"To me, it makes no sense to stay married to someone you don't have a real life with, and a loving relationship as a spouse.

You'd have been better off divorcing and meeting someone you could share a life with."

Olivier looked at her as though the concept was completely foreign to him.

"Amanda, I'm free to do as I wish.

I don't lie to Stephanie.

We don't discuss it.

And I don't ask her what she does either.

She's much more interested in her horse world than a relationship with me."

"It's a messy situation for someone else,"

Amanda commented.

"I've only dated one married man, and it ended very badly.

It turned out that his wife was a lot more interested than he thought.

She had me followed by a detective, and threatened to take everything he had in a divorce.

He dropped me immediately when that happened.

I wasted three years of my life and wound up with what I thought was a broken heart.

As it turned out, it was only bruised.

It took me a year to get over it.

I actually thought he was going to leave her because of me, as he always said he would."

"Then he was a liar,"

Olivier said quietly.

"I'm not a liar, and I don't make promises I can't keep.

I thought of divorcing her when I was younger, but I haven't in years.

The arrangement we have works well for both of us.

I am completely free emotionally, and I'm available to be with you whenever you want.

I don't answer to her.

It's why I didn't tell you sooner, because I wanted to explain the situation to you when I knew you better.

I'm totally free, Amanda, physically and emotionally, just not legally."

She wanted to believe him, but she didn't.

It sounded painful and dishonest to her, and fraught with opportunities for her to get hurt.

"I never spend time with her."

"Then why stay married?"

"Divorce is complicated, expensive, and embarrassing."

"So is cheating,"

she said bluntly.

"It's not cheating.

Basically, we're separated, we just live at the same address.

I don't go anywhere with her.

And she doesn't expect me to, or even want me to."

Amanda sighed as she listened.

His explanation wasn't so different from the situation she had lived before.

And she was already so taken with him.

She wanted to believe him, but she didn't want to be anyone's mistress.

"Do you want children?"

he asked her.

"I don't know,"

she said.

"I've never really made my mind up about it.

Probably not.

I'm almost forty.

But it would be nice to have the option."

"That's the only case in which my situation might cause a problem.

I'd have to get divorced then."

"I'm not about to get pregnant to force your hand."

"I know."

Olivier could tell Amanda was an honorable person, and so was he, except for the fact that he was married, which seemed like a minor problem to him but not to her.

And they hadn't even slept with each other.

But she was hesitant now to get any more involved with him, or even continue to see him.

She didn't want to be the other woman.

It felt wrong to her.

And she knew how much it hurt when it ended.

"I need to think about it,"

she said softly.

He reminded her of how good they were together, how much they enjoyed each other, and told her he was crazy about her and in love with her.

She sat in silence until he paid the check and they left the restaurant.

He wanted to kiss her when he left her at her hotel in the lobby, but she wouldn't let him.

She could feel herself freefalling into an abyss she didn't want to fall into.

Loving a married man felt all wrong to her, and was so hard, and so painful when it went wrong.

She was going to try to get over him when she got home to Paris.

When he walked out of the hotel, she felt as though he had run over her heart.

And this was only the beginning.

She couldn't imagine living the way he described.

Neither her part nor his.

When she got to her room, he sent her a text that said he loved her.

But what did that mean to him? Would she live in the shadows of his life if she stayed with him? His children would hate her if they ever found out about her.

He was offering her the classic role of mistress in his life.

He had shown her just enough of himself to make her fall in love with him.

But he hadn't shown her the whole picture or been truthful with her.

What else was he hiding, and how could she respect herself as his mistress? It was the last thing she wanted.

But she had fallen in love.

That was the hard part, and he had concealed the most important thing about himself, that he was married.

It made a huge difference, no matter what he said.

And what if his wife was far more involved than he claimed? Amanda had been through it all before and had sworn she'd never do it again.

She didn't answer his text.

Amanda's head was spinning when she went to bed that night, and she couldn't sleep for hours.

She was too shocked to even cry.

Every word he had said cut through her like a knife, and she remembered every part of his explanation as she played it over and over in her head.

How could he think it would be all right with her? And how could he not have told her until now? He and his wife had stayed married for their convenience and financial comfort, so his wife could maintain her "status"

as a properly married woman, and he didn't have to cut his money in half to support her.

But what about Amanda's comfort? She had to be his mistress if she wanted to be with him.

It was a high price for her to pay so that Olivier and Stephanie could maintain their comfort and well-being, their status quo.

She finally slept for two hours and then got up.

He had sent her two more texts, assuring her that he was in love with her and had never known anyone like her.

She had prided herself all her life on being a woman of integrity, and now she was supposed to sneak around with him, or openly be his mistress because everyone in the world apparently knew he was married, except her.

—

She still felt dazed when she paid her bill the next morning and checked out of the hotel.

She took the Eurostar back to Paris, and knew that Olivier was returning to Paris that afternoon.

They were supposed to have dinner that night, and now they wouldn't.

She sent him a brief text canceling dinner.

She needed time to digest what he had told her and get over the shock.

She didn't know if she ever would.

She couldn't guarantee it or even reassure him, the way she felt now.

She had no idea what to do except end it.

She felt as though everything between them had been canceled at dinner the night before, when he told her he was married.

—

She had an agonizing ride back to Paris on the train, thinking about Olivier every minute and the situation they were in.

She wondered if his wife's story would be the same as his or very different.

That's what had happened to her before, and she had promised herself, never again.

And now here she was.

It was a painful déjà vu for her.

Olivier made it sound so normal.

It wasn't normal for her.

It was a nightmare she didn't want to live through again.

When she got to Paris, she took a cab to Pascal's apartment to pick up Lulu.

She rang the bell, and he buzzed her up.

She hurried up the stairs, and Lulu started barking before he even opened the door.

And as soon as he did, Lulu danced in circles around Amanda, who scooped her up and held her as the little white fur ball licked her face.

Amanda knew that later, after she had rejoiced at their reunion, Lulu would punish her, turn her back, and give her the cold shoulder for at least two days, as she always did after Amanda had left her with someone else, but the first minutes of seeing each other were always pure joy and celebration.

Pascal took a good look at Amanda as she walked into his apartment and didn't like what he saw.

He knew that the trip to London had been very successful, and that they had sold all but one of the paintings they sent there, all of which were high-priced items.

"Are you okay?"

he asked her.

"You look pale and tired.

Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine,"

she said in a subdued voice that was unlike her.

"I'm just tired."

She seemed exhausted.

She looked at Pascal then, and her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"You were right,"

she said grimly.

"About what?"

He couldn't guess what she meant.

"He's married.

He told me at dinner last night.

He says he waited to tell me so I could see how free he is.

Supposedly, they have an ‘arrangement.' How often have we heard that line of bullshit? Gregoire, the married jerk, said the same thing, only his wife didn't know about it.

She thought they had a real marriage.

He had never let her in on the secret of their ‘arrangement.'

"Olivier claims that the marriage has been a nonevent since the beginning, and they've gone their separate ways for years.

She's involved in horse shows all over the place, and travels around with her horses and horsey friends.

They rarely see each other, but when she comes home, they still live together, and he thinks divorce is too expensive.

So they stay married.

"What the hell is wrong with people? And how could he not tell me? He dates other women and he claims his wife doesn't care.

I don't believe a word of it.

Gregoire said the same thing, until his wife hired a detective and told him what a divorce was going to cost him.

Olivier says his wife likes the status and protection being married to him gives her.

So where does that leave me? I'm the village slut if I go out with him, and his children will hate me if they ever find out.

He could at least have given me the option by telling me the truth.

I swear, I didn't think he was married."

"I did, until recently,"

Pascal said, feeling sad for her.

"You finally convinced me, and he was so open with you, more than most married men, that I finally decided it was true.

Guys like him are always married.

And women don't let go of husbands like that.

They just make their peace with it.

And he might be telling you the truth.

Maybe she really doesn't care.

Some women don't, as long as they get a free run with his credit cards and checkbook.

And he certainly is open about you.

He doesn't hide you at all."

Pascal had seen it for himself.

"I don't like the fact that he lied to me,"

she said unhappily.

"He didn't lie to you,"

Pascal corrected her.

"He just didn't tell you.

And you didn't ask him.

I wonder if he would have told you the truth if you did."

"He wanted me to see how free he is.

So he's free, so what.

He's still married.

And I'll still be an adulterer if I go out with him.

I'm not religious but I don't like it anyway.

It makes me seem like a homewrecker."

"It sounds like there's no home to wreck,"

Pascal said.

"What are you telling me? That you think I should just forget about his wife and go forward with him? It makes me feel dirty and dishonorable."

"I assume you've slept with him,"

Pascal said matter-of-factly, and she shook her head.

"No, I haven't.

We were taking our time."

"Then don't, if you don't want to.

You haven't done anything wrong yet."

"We were going to Saint-Tropez in a week or two.

I have to end it with him.

I can't go out with him in these circumstances."

Olivier had called her three times while she was on the train, and she didn't return the calls when she arrived.

What was there to say, except goodbye? The tears spilled onto her cheeks and she wiped them away.

Pascal hugged her and felt sorry for her.

"The stupid thing is that I love him.

Isn't that ridiculous? I was fine without him and now it feels like a tragedy that he's married.

Why are the good ones always taken?"

"Because they always are, and they never get divorced if they don't have to, for just the reasons he gave you.

They think it's too much trouble and too expensive.

They'd rather stay married to a woman they hate, and the wives would rather be married to cheaters than have the ‘shame' of a divorce.

Cheating seems a lot more shameful to me, but I've never been married or divorced, so what do I know?"

"Neither have I, and this makes it even more unappealing."

"Would you marry him if he were free?"

he asked her.

"Probably.

Maybe.

We seemed perfect for each other."

"You still are.

Except you can't marry him because he's married to someone else.

There's nothing to stop you if you can live with it.

He seems very committed to you."

"And he lives with his wife.

The two don't compute for me."

Pascal wished he could cheer her up.

He could see how devastated she was, justifiably in his opinion.

It was a nasty shock.

Particularly since Olivier hadn't warned her.

There had never been even the slightest hint that he was married.

Only Pascal's suspicions, which Amanda hadn't wanted to hear.

Amanda went home a few minutes later with Lulu.

Olivier didn't call her that night.

She knew he'd be back in Paris by the time she went to bed, but he didn't call again.

She wondered if he was with his wife, and she realized that was how it would be forever.

She would always be wondering if he was with her, and if he was being truthful about how separate their lives were, or if they slept together, and even made love.

She hadn't had the guts to ask him about their sleeping arrangements.

Living together was bad enough, but it was what most couples who were unhappy together still did.

They stayed married no matter what.

Amanda lay on her bed for hours that night, in some kind of trance, thinking and wondering what she should do.

The answer seemed obvious to her.

She had to stop seeing Olivier, no matter how much it hurt.

She had no choice really.

It reminded her of her father cheating on her mother and how much it had hurt Felicia until her dying day, and how guilty he felt about it afterward.

Amanda didn't want to be part of it.

She had made up her mind.

It was over for her with Olivier.

He had seemed so perfect for her in every way, but she couldn't do it.

No matter what he said to convince her.

Being Olivier's mistress was not an option she would consider, so it was ending before it had even begun.

She sent him a text and told him she wouldn't see him again and he wrote back and said how sad he was, but he said he accepted her decision because he loved her.

It was over.

She knew she had avoided a terrible mistake, but it hurt like hell.