Page 71 of How to Train Your Billionaire

He smirks, but there’s something behind it. “Only for you, Frankie.”

The conversation falls into a quiet space, and I can’t help but wonder how we got here. Two people who couldn’t be more different, yet somehow, we’re here talking about life and sharing our insecurities.

After eating, we wander through the fields, my fingers grazing the lavender as we walk. The lavender-scented air wraps around us.

Hayes pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of me just as I turn, laughing.

“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He glances at the screen, then back at me. “You look ... perfect. I had to capture it.”

I raise an eyebrow, but I can’t help but smile. “Okay, now I know you’re just trying to flatter me.”

His mouth lifts in a grin. “I have to admit, you’re different than I imagined ...”

He smirks, looking so effortlessly smug, and I catch myself glancing at the way the sunlight hits his face. His jawline’s perfect, and his eyes—those damn eyes. They’re warm, like melted caramel, and theydefinitelydo things to me that I can’t ignore.

But it’s not just his face. I can’t help but notice the way his body moves. It’s ... well, distracting.

And then my mouth opens—and to my horror—words start coming out.

“I’ve decided that it’s weird that I’ve seen you naked twice ...”

“Twice?” He blinks.

Or maybe once. I possibly imagined the second time, not that I’ll admit that to him.

“And we haven’t kissed . . .”

“You want to kiss me.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t phrase it like one.

“No.” I hesitate. “Well, yes.”

His lips lift in a teasing half grin that makes my stomach tighten. But he doesn’t kiss me. He just keeps walking, slowly, leisurely beside me.

As the sun dips lower, we pack up and make a quick stop in a nearby village, browsing through market stalls filled with handmade soaps and lavender honey. Hayes buys me a small satchel of dried lavender, slipping it into my bag with a satisfied smile.

“Something to remember the day by,” he says.

Back at the yacht, Charles greets us with a knowing glance over his evening tea. “I take it you two managed not to burn down Provence?”

I laugh, dropping into a chair beside him. “Barely.”

Hayes moves across from us with a purposeful stride, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. As he takes a seat, his eyes flicker to mine, and there’s a charged silence between us, something deeper than the usual teasing.

“Might have to go back just to double-check,” he says, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. It’s the kind of look that makes me feel like he’s thinking about something else entirely.

Charles hums, clearly amused. “I’m sure you will.”

It’s been a few hours since we got back, and Charles is half asleep in his chair, eyes glazed over as he watches C-Span. I’m pretty sure he’s not even really watching it—just the white noise of politics keeping him company while the world passes by.

I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. The day’s been ... a lot. But in a good way. It’s hard to put into words, but I feel something different. Something lighter. Something I didn’t expect.

“I think I’m going to turn in,” I announce, glancing over at Charles. He barely stirs, just grunts in acknowledgment.

I make my way to my room, running a hand through my hair, but just as I’m about to close the door, I hear it—a soft knock.

My heart skips a beat.