Mail-Order Groom: A Valentine Romantic Comedy

He, too, could not stop himself from saying the truth.

"Je t'aime, ma moitié."

The words might seem too soon to be spoken for others, but he didn't give a damn. He had not gotten to where he was by doubting himself, and his gut told him what his heart had probably known from the start.

He loved her.

He loved his wife from the first moment he saw her, and he would not let anything or anyone take her away.

It was Philippe's last thought as he held his wife and rolled them over so she could sleep atop him, and it was also his first thought when he woke to the sound of his phone ringing, and he saw Greta's name once again popping up on the screen.

Chapter Nine

Greta's call was answered on the fourth ring, and since Philippe had always been the type to answer or reject a call by the first ring, the fact that he hadn't now spoke volumes.

"Bonjour, Greta."

This, at least, was normal. Philippe had always been formal over the phone, and this hadn't changed when she became his lover. Even so, something still felt different, and this worried and angered her. Any change could only be attributed to his fat American wife, but because she also knew better than to start off with a rant—-

"Bonjour, mon chéri," Greta cooed. "I've been calling you since last night."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"And I tried calling you this morning, too."

"I was occupied."

"By something or someone?"

The words were out before she could stop herself, and she was made to pay the price when Philippe answered her in a tone that was distinctly stiff.

"It is unlike you to be snide."

Actually, she had always been snide, but another thing she had known better not to do was to show him this side of hers. Unlike his older brother, Philippe was not and would never be the type to suffer her bitchiness simply because he enjoyed having her in bed. It was why, even though she had always found Philippe more attractive, Greta had chosen to set her cap for Pierre. Not only had the latter been easier to manipulate, but Pierre, being the older and more favored brother, would've meant Greta enjoying a greater share of the DeRose fortune.

Life would have been so much easier if Pierre hadn't drunk himself to an early grave, but since there was no way to change the past—-

"Please don't be mad, darling. I've just been missing you quite a lot."

Philippe was starting to realize that it wouldn't be easy to break things off with Greta. Although he had made it clear from the start that their relationship was merely based on mutual benefits, he also hadn't made the effort to discourage Greta when she started acting more possessive.

"You know I'm not one to be emotional, but I didn’t realize it would be this hard, living with the fact that you're married to someone else."

And now, he was suffering the consequences.

"I know your mother's been to see her, and since I'm sure Sandra loves your new wife just because she's not me..." Greta waited for Philippe to tell her that she had nothing to worry about. But he did not. And her temper, which she would be the first to admit had a much shorter fuse compared to most, began to boil.

"It would be nice," she said sharply, "if you could say something—-" A beeping sound cut her off, and Greta bit back a curse. Merde!

"I'm sorry, Greta, but I have Damian on the other end—-"

"I don't mind being put on hold." Since Damian owned Foxtown, and everything played second fiddle to business for Philippe, it would be pointless to ask him not to answer the call.

"This might take a while, and I wouldn't want you to waste your time waiting."

The coolness of Philippe's tone made Greta quickly change tactics. "Je suis désolée, mon chéri." If she let their call end on a bad note, she might end up pushing him into his wife's arms. "I do not mean to take so much of your time. Will you call me back tonight at least?"

"I'll do my best."

Greta nearly swore in anger, but she managed to calm herself down and instead made a kissing sound over the phone. "Don't be a stranger, mon chéri, or my pussy will start meowing. It also misses you, you know."

Philippe knew what Greta was expecting, and what was most likely to happen if he failed to say what she wanted to hear. But while he knew words need not translate to action—-

"I miss it, too."

Having to say such a thing to a woman other than his wife still left a bad taste in Philippe's mouth, and the sound of Greta's laugh made him want to punch something hard.

"Allez, bises." Greta kept her tone sweet, but as soon as the call ended, she flew into a rage and threw anything and everything within reach. Over an hour had passed before she finally stopped seeing red, and it was only because someone was knocking on her hotel room door.