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The Billionaire's French Kiss
The Billionaire's French Kiss
作者: Daglow

The First Lie

作者: Daglow
last update 公開日: 2026-09-08 20:15:23

Lena

The first lie of the evening was that I was happy.

I told myself that as I stood there.

That if I smiled enough, fixed my hair enough, and stopped staring at the parts of myself I didn't like, eventually I'd believe it.

I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing my emerald-green dress over my curves for the third time.

The bedroom was warm, filled with the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamps. Everything looked exactly as it usually did, yet somehow it felt different tonight.

Maybe because I had spent the entire afternoon preparing for a moment I desperately wanted to go well.

Maybe because I knew, deep down, that I was trying too hard.

‎“Too much?” I asked my reflection.

‎The woman staring back at me smiled uncertainly.

‎The dress hugged my waist before falling softly over my hips. The neckline was modest, but it showed just enough of my cleavage to make me feel feminine without making me feel exposed.

‎I turned sideways.

‎My stomach was still there.

‎Of course it was.

‎I sighed and tugged the fabric down.

‎“Stop it.”

‎I had been doing that a lot lately.

‎Looking at myself and searching for things to fix.

‎Things Daniel might notice.

‎Things other women didn’t have.

‎Things I had somehow convinced myself I needed to apologize for simply because they existed.

‎I picked up a pair of gold earrings from the dresser and slipped them on.

‎The earrings had been a gift from Maya.

She'd told me they made my face glow.

I hadn't believed her at the time.

Maybe I was beginning to understand that I had spent too many years distrusting compliments and believing criticism immediately.

‎Tonight was supposed to be different.

‎Tonight was supposed to remind Daniel that, despite everything, we were still us.

‎Three years.

‎Three years of birthdays, arguments, lazy Sunday mornings, stolen kisses in grocery-store aisles, terrible movies, inside jokes, and promises made in the dark.

‎Three years was a long time.

‎Long enough to believe someone belonged in your future.

‎I glanced at the clock.

‎7:18 p.m.

‎Daniel would be home soon.

‎I smiled.

‎I had planned everything.

‎His favorite pasta.

‎His favorite wine.

‎A chocolate cake I'd spent nearly two hours making because the first one had collapsed in the middle.

‎I'd even watched a tutorial twice because the frosting refused to cooperate.

I'd almost thrown the entire cake into the trash.

Instead, I'd stood in the kitchen with flour on my cheek and laughed at myself.

For a few minutes, I'd felt like the old Lena again.

The Lena who didn't question every little thing.

‎I had even bought the little silver watch he'd admired weeks ago when we'd walked past a jewelry store.

‎I'd wrapped it myself.

‎Maybe tonight I would give it to him after dinner.

‎Maybe tonight we'd talk.

‎Maybe lately I'd been imagining things.

‎That was what I kept telling myself.

‎Daniel had been distant.

‎Not cruel.

‎Not exactly.

‎Just...different.

‎His replies had become shorter.

‎His phone seemed permanently attached to his hand.

‎Sometimes he'd smile at a message and quickly turn the screen away when I walked into the room.

‎Whenever I asked if something was wrong, he'd kiss my forehead and say, “I'm just stressed, baby.”

‎So I'd believed him.

‎Because loving someone sometimes meant choosing to believe the explanation that hurt less.

‎I carried the wine glasses into the dining room.

‎The table looked beautiful.

Two candles stood in the center.

The plates were arranged carefully.

The napkins were folded the way I'd seen them done at a restaurant once.

There were little details everywhere.

Details Daniel probably wouldn't notice.

But I had noticed them.

Because I always noticed.

‎My phone buzzed on the counter.

‎Maya: Don't tell me you're cooking for that man again.

‎I laughed.

‎I typed back.

‎Me: He's my boyfriend.

‎Three dots appeared immediately.

‎Maya: Exactly. That's why I'm concerned.

‎I rolled my eyes.

‎Me: You're impossible.

‎Maya: And you're too forgiving.

‎I stared at that message for a moment.

‎Then I locked my phone.

‎I didn't want to think about it.

‎Tonight was about Daniel.

‎About us.

‎I picked up my purse and checked myself one last time before leaving.

‎“I look beautiful,” I whispered.

‎The words felt strange.

‎But I said them anyway.

‎For a moment, I stood there.

I looked at myself again.

The woman in the mirror looked nervous.

Hopeful.

A little tired.

But beautiful.

At least, I wanted her to be.

So I smiled at her.

Then I grabbed my keys.

‎---

‎Daniel's apartment was only fifteen minutes away.

‎The city lights blurred past my window as I drove.

I kept imagining the evening.

Maybe we'd laugh.

Maybe we'd dance in the kitchen.

Maybe he'd notice the dress.

Maybe he'd look at me the way he used to.

That last thought made my chest ache.

I missed that look.

The look that made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.

‎I parked downstairs, grabbed the gift bag from the passenger seat, and checked the time.

‎7:52.

‎Perfect.

‎I hadn't told him I was coming.

‎It was supposed to be a surprise.

‎I climbed the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. By the time I reached his floor, I was smiling.

‎I could already imagine his expression.

‎He'd open the door.

‎He'd pull me into his arms.

‎He'd tell me I looked beautiful.

‎Maybe he'd kiss me.

‎Maybe he'd finally tell me what had been bothering him.

‎I reached his door.

‎Then stopped.

‎I heard laughter.

‎My smile faded slightly.

‎There were voices inside.

‎I frowned.

‎Maybe Daniel had invited someone over.

‎I hadn't realized.

‎Then I heard a woman's voice.

‎A familiar woman's voice.

‎My heart skipped.

‎No.

‎It couldn't be.

‎I moved closer to the door.

‎The apartment was quiet for a second.

‎Then the woman laughed again.

‎I knew that laugh.

‎I'd heard it hundreds of times.

‎At birthdays.

‎At sleepovers.

‎During midnight phone calls.

‎In restaurants.

‎In my own home.

‎My fingers tightened around the gift bag.

‎Sophie.

‎My best friend.

‎I stared at the door.

‎A strange chill moved through my body.

‎I tried to rationalize it.

‎Maybe Sophie had come over to help Daniel with something.

‎Maybe they were planning something for me.

‎Maybe—

‎I heard Daniel laugh.

‎Then Sophie's voice, softer this time.

‎“She really doesn't know?”

‎I stopped breathing.

‎Daniel answered.

‎“No.”

‎A pause.

‎“She can't know.”

‎The gift bag slipped slightly from my fingers.

‎I stared at the door.

‎My heart was beating so hard I could hear it.

‎No.

‎There had to be another explanation.

‎There had to be.

‎I reached for the handle.

‎The door wasn't locked.

‎I pushed it open.

‎“Daniel?”

‎Silence.

‎I stepped inside.

‎The apartment smelled faintly of perfume.

‎Not mine.

‎My eyes moved through the living room.

‎A pair of women's shoes sat beside the couch.

‎Red heels.

‎Sophie's.

‎My stomach dropped.

‎“No...”

‎I walked forward.

‎My hands had begun to shake.

‎“Daniel?”

‎I heard movement from the bedroom.

‎Then Daniel appeared.

‎His shirt was unbuttoned.

‎His hair was messy.

‎And behind him stood Sophie.

‎I looked at my best friend.

‎Sophie looked back at me.

‎For one terrible second, nobody moved.

‎Nobody spoke.

‎The silence was worse than shouting.

It stretched between us.

I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.

Somewhere outside, a car horn sounded.

The world continued.

Mine didn't.

‎My eyes travelled from Daniel to Sophie.

‎Then back to Daniel.

‎The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

‎“What's going on?”

‎Daniel's face went pale.

‎“Lena...”

‎I laughed.

‎It was a tiny, broken sound.

‎“Why are you saying my name like that?”

‎Sophie grabbed the sheet around herself.

‎“Lena, please—”

‎“Don't.”

‎One word.

‎It came out sharper than I expected.

‎Sophie froze.

‎I looked at Daniel.

‎“Tell me I'm misunderstanding this.”

‎Daniel opened his mouth.

‎Nothing came out.

‎“Tell me.”

‎Still nothing.

‎I felt something inside me begin to crack.

‎Not loudly.

‎Not dramatically.

‎Just a slow, devastating fracture.

‎Three years.

‎Three years of loving this man.

‎Three years of believing I was safe with him.

‎I looked at Sophie.

‎My best friend.

‎The woman who had held me while I cried after every fight with Daniel.

‎The woman who knew how deeply I loved him.

‎The woman who knew everything.

‎And suddenly, I understood.

‎I wasn't standing inside a misunderstanding.

‎I was standing inside a lie.

‎A lie that had apparently been going on long before tonight.

‎My gaze dropped to the floor.

‎The silver gift bag was still in my hand.

‎The little watch I'd bought him suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

‎I looked at it.

‎Then at Daniel.

‎“Happy anniversary,” I whispered.

‎Daniel's expression changed.

‎“Lena, wait—”

‎I shook my head.

‎And for the first time that evening, the tears came.

‎Not because I'd caught him.

‎But because a small, foolish part of me had still believed that the perfect love story I'd built in my head was real.

‎I turned toward the door.

‎Behind me, Daniel said my name again.

‎I didn't stop.

‎Because if I turned around, I was afraid I would break completely.

‎And I had no idea that this was only the beginning.

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  • The Billionaire's French Kiss    The Kiss

    Lena For one second, I wondered if I had actually done it. I had. I was kissing him. The realization barely had time to register before everything inside me seemed to tilt. His closeness. The warmth between us. The impossible fact that I had actually crossed the room and done something I had been too afraid to do for years. It felt reckless. It felt completely unlike me. And somehow, it felt like exactly what I needed. It was supposed to be quick. Stupid. A reckless little kiss because Maya had dared me to prove that I could stop wondering whether men found me attractive and simply choose for myself. I had told myself it would mean nothing. A few seconds of courage, a story Maya and I could laugh about later, and then I would return to my carefully controlled life. But the moment my lips touched his, every sensible thought vanished. For those first few seconds, I didn't think about the room. I didn't think about the people. I didn't think about Daniel. I didn't think

  • The Billionaire's French Kiss    The Dare

    Lena By the time we found a quieter corner of the room, I had almost forgotten that I was wearing the blue dress. Almost. The truth was, I could still feel it against my skin. Every time I moved, the fabric reminded me of the decision I'd made earlier that evening. I'd chosen it because I liked it. Not because I thought it would make me look thinner. Not because I thought Daniel would have approved. Not because I wanted to disappear. Just because I liked the way the blue looked. That should have been a small thing. Somehow, it wasn't. There was something strangely powerful about wearing something simply because I wanted to. No calculations. No wondering whether it made my waist look smaller. No turning sideways in front of a mirror. No imagining Daniel's expression. Just blue fabric against my skin. A dress I had chosen for myself. And yet, standing in a room full of women who looked as though they belonged on magazine covers, I could still feel that old instinct cr

  • The Billionaire's French Kiss    The Woman In Blue

    Alexandre I hated events like this. I hated the noise. The champagne. The endless conversations that sounded important but rarely were. Most of all, I hated the expectation that I should enjoy myself. Tonight, however, I had no choice. My mother had made that very clear. The Laurent Foundation was announcing a new international arts initiative, and because my family name was attached to it, my attendance was not optional. Neither was the dinner afterward. Neither was the photograph with the foundation board. Neither was the conversation with three investors who had apparently decided that a charity gala was the perfect place to discuss a potential acquisition. Family obligation disguised as philanthropy. That was how these evenings worked. I could have sent someone in my place. I usually did. But this particular foundation had been started by my grandmother, and my mother had reminded me of that fact three times this week. You are not allowed to send Julien. I had la

  • The Billionaire's French Kiss    The Event

    Lena The event was being held at a private mansion on one of the most beautiful streets I'd ever seen. The car moved slowly along the narrow street, and I found myself pressing closer to the window. Paris had looked beautiful everywhere we went, but this part of the city felt different. Quieter. More polished. More expensive. Even the buildings seemed to know they were beautiful. Tall iron gates surrounded enormous properties. Warm golden light spilled from windows. Elegant trees lined the pavement, their leaves shifting gently in the evening breeze. I adjusted the skirt of my dress over my knees. My fingers wouldn't stop moving. I'd spent nearly an hour getting ready. Maya had insisted on doing my hair. I'd put on earrings I'd almost decided not to wear. I'd stood in front of the mirror three separate times and wondered whether the blue dress had been a terrible idea. Now, sitting in the back of a car headed toward a mansion filled with people I had never met, I was be

  • The Billionaire's French Kiss    A Different Lena

    Lena ‎ ‎I woke up laughing. ‎ ‎For a second, the sound surprised me. It was soft and breathless, and it seemed completely out of place in the hotel room. I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, still smiling. ‎ ‎I didn't know why at first. ‎ ‎Then I opened my eyes and found Maya standing in the middle of the hotel room, wearing sunglasses, holding two cups of coffee, and dancing badly to music playing from her phone. ‎ ‎I stared at her. ‎ ‎She spun around, nearly losing one of the coffee cups. I immediately sat up. "Maya!" She caught the cup against her chest and looked at me as though I had interrupted something important. "What?" "You're going to spill that." "I wasn't." "You almost did." "Almost doesn't count." "It absolutely counts when it's coffee." She nodded seriously. "Fair." ‎ ‎“What are you doing?” ‎ ‎Maya froze mid-dance. ‎ ‎“Good morning.” ‎ ‎“You look ridiculous.” ‎ ‎“I look fabulous.” ‎ ‎“You're

  • The Billionaire's French Kiss    Welcome To Paris

    Lena ‎ ‎Paris smelled nothing like home. ‎ ‎I noticed that before I noticed anything else. ‎ ‎The air carried the scent of rain, freshly baked bread, coffee, and something floral I couldn't quite identify. Cars moved along unfamiliar streets. People hurried past us speaking French, their words flowing together in a language I understood only in fragments. ‎ ‎I stood outside the airport with one hand wrapped around the handle of my suitcase and stared at the city beyond the glass doors. ‎ ‎The automatic doors opened behind me, releasing another wave of warm airport air before closing again. I could feel the suitcase pulling slightly against my wrist. My fingers tightened around the handle. For days, Paris had existed only as an idea. A booking confirmation on Maya's phone.

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