Page 74 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I don’t respond, just lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Charles just chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

But I know he’s right. Frankie’s got me more off-balance than I’ve ever been in my life—and it’s making me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of.

She glances at me again, catching my gaze for a split second. This time, there’s something different in her eyes, too—something more knowing. I can’t put my finger on it, but she’s not looking at me the same way she did before. There’s a softness there now. Maybe even a little curiosity.

And that’s when I realize—I’ve been letting myself look at her differently too. The change is subtle, but it’s there. And I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When the Walls Start to Fall

Frankie

The soft hum of the yacht’s engines is the only sound as we sit in the lounge, Hayes and I nursing the last of our drinks. The evening was ... unexpected. We’d laughed, swapped stories about the most ridiculous things that had happened to us in our lives, and for once, I didn’t feel like I was walking around on eggshells, trying not to screw something up. Charles and now even Hayes seem to get me, to accept me.

“I think you’re the first person who’s ever made me laugh this much,” he says, swirling the last of his wine. Hayes is leaning back on the couch, his arm stretched across the backrest, looking at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The kind of look that usually makes me want to squirm.

“Is that a compliment?” I ask.

“Of course it is,” he says, voice low.

I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “I guess youcanbe tolerable, too, for a billionaire.”

“Wow,” he says, feigning offense. “I’m hurt.”

I can’t help but laugh. His teasing is starting to feel ... comfortable. Maybe it’s the way his eyes light up when I make him laugh, or how heactually listens when I talk about all the stupid things that have gone wrong in my life.

The silence stretches between us, but it’s not awkward. Just comfortable. And something shifts. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me now, like he’s seeing me for the first time without all the walls up.

I glance away, trying to shake the sudden heat spreading through me. It’s ridiculous. Hayes is ...well, Hayes. He’s all wrong for me, and not to mention probably leaving soon. But I can’t stop replaying that kiss ...

“Why do you do that?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Do what?”

“Hide. Whenever things get too real, you shut down.”

I freeze, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

He reaches over, brushing the hair from my face, and touches my cheek.

He looks at me like he sees through all the things I worry about. My finances, my anxiety, my weight. He looks at me like none of it matters—and maybe it doesn’t. In his presence, I feel weightless, like the world is my oyster. But I know none of this is real. My time with Charles will eventually end, the bubble will burst, and I’ll be back to sharing a crappy apartment in Jersey—alone and lonely. And Hayes will probably move on to some supermodel or actress.

“You’re good at pretending like nothing gets to you. Like you don’t care about the things that matter,” he says softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But you do. I can see it.”

I blink, unsure of how to respond. Is it that obvious? I thought I’d been hiding it better. But Hayes—he’s always paying attention, isn’t he?

I sigh, setting my glass down. “I don’t know. I guess it’s easier than showing anyone the stuff that really gets to me. The things that make me ... vulnerable.”

There’s a long pause. Then he leans forward, his voice low. “I get it. More than you think.”

I look up, and for a second, the world outside this room fades. It’s just him and me. No more pretending. The tension between us is undeniable, and for the first time, I don’t want to run from it.

Then he does something unexpected. He reaches out, lightly brushing his fingers over mine. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a spark through my entire body. He notices the way I freeze, but instead of pulling away, he holds my hand gently, as though waiting for me to make the next move.

“I’m not going to bite,” he says softly, his voice low. “You’re safe.”