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)
I’m sitting at a sleek, marble-topped table with Jas, an obscenely expensive glass of wine in one hand and a plate of hors d’oeuvres in front of us. We have small, delicate bites of things I can’t entirely identify, but they taste so good that I don’t question any of them.
Leah has unsurprisingly vanished into the depths of Jacques’ luxury estate again, and Emma is currently in the very attractive clutches of what I swear just might be a seven-foot-tall Swiss lawyer. He looks like he walked straight out of a Hugo Boss campaign and appeared here, though honestly, I’m not surprised - most of the people are stunning.
“Okay,” Jas says, sipping her wine and giving a slow, approving nod. “This is nice. Just about the perfect amount of ridiculous.”
I hum in agreement.
“I hate to admit it, but… Yeah. It is a good party.”
A waiter glides past, depositing a fresh plate of canapés in front of us. Jas doesn’t even hesitate, just reaches for one immediately.
“This is what we deserve,” she says as she bites into it. “A little glamour. A little luxury.”
“A little free food?” I smirk.
Jas points at me. “Girl - you just get it.”
After a little while, Emma reappears, slipping into the seat next to me with her cheeks thoroughly flushed from dancing. She reaches for a glass of wine from a passing waiter, sighing dramatically as she settles in.
“Okay,” she says, lifting her glass. “That man? Phenomenal.”
“I take it Mr. Switzerland met expectations?” Jas grins.
“Met them? Oh, honey - he exceeded them,” Emma confirms. “I think I have to move to Geneva now. It’s the only logical conclusion.”
I open my mouth to answer, but that’s when it happens.
I see him.
Again.
And just like that, any possibility of relaxation vanishes.
Of course, he’s out here; standing across the garden and looking perfectly at ease.
He’s not alone. He’s gathered with a small group of people, all well-dressed and varying in age, but all with the same unmistakable air of wealth and importance even from this distance.
He’s chatting animatedly with one of them - a man who looks to be at least in his late thirties, who nods along enthusiastically to whatever he’s saying.
He’s the picture of effortless charm, and for a brief moment, I think he doesn’t notice me.
But then his gaze shifts.
It’s weird. It’s almost like he feels me watching. Like he knew I would find him again eventually.
Like he was waiting for it.
His blue eyes lock onto mine, and before I can even react, his lips curl into a slow, knowing smile.
Not a smirk, this time. No, it’s something smaller. More self-satisfied.
Like he’s in on a joke I haven’t quite figured out yet.
It makes my skin prickle with irritation.
He seems to notice me glaring, and his smile only deepens. I have to wonder whether he actually realises quite how much I hate him.
“Poppy?” Jas frowns. “Who are you…”
Before I can even think about covering my very obvious staring, Emma lets out a dramatic, breathy gasp.
“Oh my god.”
She grabs my arm with a grip that should not be that strong for someone who’s been sipping cocktails all evening.
“Poppy, who are you looking at?”
Jas’ eyes snap to where I’m staring.
“Who is it?”
I swallow and shake my head quickly. “No one.”
Emma narrows her eyes, her expression suddenly turning dead serious.
“Poppy. That man is not ‘no one.’”
Jas tilts her head, studying him for a moment.
“Wait. Is that -”
“Nope,” I cut in quickly. “It’s not him. I don’t know him. Never seen him before in my life.”
Emma gives me the biggest side-eye in human history.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” she muses. “Because I distinctly remember you saying you had two run-ins with some French guy who looks exactly like that man standing right over there.”
Oh, fuck.
Alright then. I’ll play along.
“Oh, him?” I say, my voice pitching slightly higher than usual. My eyes quickly flicker over in his general direction before I return my attention back to the girls. “Yeah, he’s just some random guy. I saw him at the bar yesterday and bumped into him outside the bathroom earlier. Nothing major.”
Jas lifts a brow.
“Is that the guy you said spilled a drink on you last night?”
“I mean, technically, he knocked into me, and then I spilled my drink on myself. But, you know… details.”
Emma’s lips curl, like she’s already enjoying where this is going.
“Did he really?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter. He’s just some - ” I wave a hand vaguely, scrambling for an explanation. “Mechanic, or something.”
A beat of silence passes between us.
And then Emma’s eyes practically bulge out of her head while Jas pauses mid-sip of her wine.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“What?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably.
Jas and Emma stare at me like I’ve just declared the sky isn’t blue.
“You think… Wait.” Emma pauses, looking genuinely pained as she processes this before she gestures wildly toward the other side of the terrace. “That man over there. The one with the ridiculously perfect floppy brown hair, absurd bone structure, and an obnoxiously smug but sexy aura,” she says. “You think he’s a mechanic?”