Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
"That’s… weirdly intense of you."
"It’s smart of me," he corrects. "You’re talented. Your designs are impressive. You have an actual brand forming here, and I’d be an idiot not to notice."
I shake my head, still trying to wrap my mind around this.
"And what exactly do you plan to do with all this… research?"
"Simple," he says, reaching for his coffee. "I plan to make sure we work."
I freeze.
The words land heavily between us, filling every space, settling into my skin like a promise.
He takes a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered - completely confident, as if what he just said isn’t causing me to have a full-on internal meltdown.
"You’re serious?" I finally manage.
His brow lifts slightly, like the question is offensive. "Obviously."
I inhale sharply, trying to steady myself, but it’s impossible when he’s looking at me like that - all cool confidence, all absolute certainty.
"But… how?" I ask, gesturing vaguely between us. "This - your life, my life - it’s not exactly simple, Frederic."
He sets his coffee down and leans in, his eyes locked onto mine.
"It’s not complicated, either."
I scoff. "You fly across the world every other week."
"Exactly. I'm used to the travel." His lips twitch. "Besides, you only have one year left of university, and then - well, who knows. But, again: London isn’t far."
I chew on the inside of my cheek, hesitant. "What about your schedule?"
Frederic shrugs. "It’s demanding, yes. But I have time between races. I have breaks. And I always have Monaco."
I raise a brow. "Your Monaco, you mean?"
"Well, my family's Monaco. But yes. You could visit whenever you wanted."
I let out a slow breath, staring down at the breakfast tray between us, trying to make sense of this - of us.
"I don’t know," I murmur, toying with the corner of my napkin. "It’s just… a lot."
A warm hand covers mine, stilling my movements.
I look up.
His expression is softer now, a rare vulnerability seeping through the usual arrogance.
"You do want this, don’t you?"
I suck in a sharp breath. "I…"
Yes.
The answer is right there, lodged in my throat, desperate to escape.
But I hesitate.
Because saying it means admitting that this isn’t just some summer fling. That it isn’t just a game.
That whatever this is, it’s already deeper than I ever meant for it to be.
Frederic watches me closely, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, waiting.
And then, finally, I nod.
"Yes."
His grip tightens slightly, his smirk returning.
"Good. Because I don’t intend to let you slip away that easily, mon ange."
I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. "You’re impossible."
"And yet, you love it."
I roll my eyes, but my heart is hammering too hard, my stomach twisting too much to argue.
Because he’s right.
I do.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Poppy
The airport is bustling with travelers, the sounds of rolling suitcases and boarding announcements filling the space.
But despite the noise, despite the chaos, all I can focus on is him.
Frederic stands beside me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers, his gaze fixed on me like he’s committing every last detail to memory.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening, because leaving him hurts.
More than I ever thought it would.
The girls are chattering around me, but their voices feel distant.
"I cannot believe I wasted my time on that assehole," Leah huffs, crossing her arms. “I could have found an entirely different billionaire instead of that broke fraud.”
"Don’t worry, babe,” Emma says as she waves a dismissive hand. “There’s always next year."
Jas smirks knowingly, her eyes flicking between me and Frederic. “Some of us don’t need next year.”
I shoot her a look, but she only raises an eyebrow in return. I have no time to retaliate, because Frederic shifts, stepping closer, his presence warm and steady.
"You’ll call me when you’re home?" His voice is low, for my ears only.
I nod, my throat feeling tight.
"I promise."
He studies me for a moment, as if he doesn’t quite believe I’ll follow through. Then, his lips quirk into a smirk.
"Okay. I’ll be waiting."
I swallow, wanting to say something - anything - to make this easier, to make leaving him easier.
But before I can, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, sleek box.
His final gift.
I hesitate before taking it, my pulse roaring in my ears as I pop it open.
My breath catches.
Inside, nestled against black velvet, is a delicate gold necklace. And hanging at the centre -
A single gold letter.
F.
My chest clenches, my fingers tightening around the box.
I glance up at him, speechless. "Freddie -"
"It’s just something to remind you," he murmurs, brushing his knuckles against my jaw. "No matter where you are, you’re mine, Poppy. As much as I am yours."
The words land heavily between us, filled with a weight that makes my heart ache.
I exhale sharply, overwhelmed with emotion, and before I can overthink it, I throw my arms around him, burying my face into his shoulder. He exhales softly, wrapping his arms around me in return, holding me against him like he never wants to let go.