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)
“Ah,” he muses, lifting his own glass slightly. “So I’m an inconvenience?”
I tilt my head, pretending to think.
“Well, you did try to steal my taxi,” I remind him, ticking off the offenses on my fingers as I continue. “You cornered me outside of a bathroom, practically forced me to dance with you - in front of a small crowd - and you knocked an entire daiquiri over me in a beach club. So - yes. In fact, I’d say that calling you an inconvenience would be the polite way of putting it.”
Frederic swirls the contents of his own glass as I speak - as though we’re in the middle of some sophisticated debate rather than yet another episode of him delighting in ruining my life. One of his friends murmurs something in French - something that makes him exhale a quiet laugh - but he doesn’t turn to acknowledge them, nor does he respond.
Instead, he keeps his blue eyes firmly on me, looking amused, intrigued, and entirely too smug all at once.
“I like how you make it sound so tragic,” he muses. “As if your life has been completely upended by my existence.”
“You do keep appearing at the exact moment I least want to see you.”
From behind me, Emma lets out a quiet snort. Meanwhile, Frederic lifts a brow, clearly unphased by my attitude.
“Or the exact moment you most want to see me.”
“Oh, please.”
Jas actually wheezes, and even I find that I’m struggling to keep my face completely straight.
The knowledge that the two of them are laughing behind me is almost enough to make me lose my composure.
Almost.
But then Frederic’s smirk deepens as he tilts his head slightly, his intense gaze still locked onto mine.
“Ah, that’s right. After all, you did say I was a stalker, non?”
Oh, god - yes, I did.
I could have really done without that reminder.
“That was before I realised Monaco is apparently the size of a shoebox,” I say, attempting to brush off the comment.
One of his friends laughs a little too loudly while Jas mutters something under her breath behind me.
“And yet, you still seem the most bothered by it,” Frederic says.
I let out a sharp breath, my patience dangling by a thread.
"Not at all," I say dryly, rolling my shoulders back as I meet his infuriatingly smug gaze head-on. "You’ve got me all wrong. Truly, nothing brings me more joy than my personal space being repeatedly invaded by you. It’s the highlight of my week. Really."
Behind me, Emma lets out a gasp so dramatic that it has to be on purpose.
"Oh, she’s gone full sarcasm," Jas says, her voice low enough that I just about hear her. "That’s when you know it’s bad."
Frederic’s grin deepens, slow and thoroughly pleased with himself, as he lifts his glass to his lips, taking a long, deliberate sip.
He doesn’t break eye contact. Not once.
And I hate that I can feel it.
It’s like there’s a pull in the air between us, winding tight, waiting for someone to cut it.
Then, because he is physically incapable of letting me have the last word, he sets his glass down and leans forwards just slightly.
"If me invading your personal space is what you like, mon ange," he starts, his voice dipping just enough to send my stomach into outright rebellion, "then I can certainly arrange more of it."
I freeze for half a second, pulse betraying me entirely, before I recover, lifting my chin.
"You’re mistaken," I say smoothly, flicking my hair over my shoulder like I’m completely unaffected by his nonsense. "What I like is peace and quiet, which you seem entirely incapable of providing."
One of his friends snickers, and from behind me, Emma mutters, "oh, she’s really fighting for her life right now."
Frederic tilts his head, considering me with an expression that feels entirely too knowing.
Like he’s already planning his next move.
Then, without a word, he leans back against the lounger, settling into a casual sprawl, his grip loose around his glass.
For a moment, I think I’ve won. For a moment, it seems like he’s letting this one go.
But then his smirk deepens, slow and deliberate, like he knows something I don’t.
Something that sends a prickle of unease skittering down my spine.
Damn it.
Behind me, Emma clears her throat, subtly nudging me.
“Right,” she says, dragging out the word. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” Jas hums.
I exhale, ignoring the urge to glance back at him one last time as I turn on my heel, following my friends as we move further down the deck.
But as I walk away, a nagging feeling curls in my stomach.
A certainty that he’s not done with me yet. That this isn’t over.
And that there’s no way in hell he’s going to let me have the upper hand for long.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Frederic
Who the fuck does this woman think she is?
I watch her walk away, that ridiculous little sway in her hips only adding fuel to the fire burning in my chest. She’s got no idea where she is - on my family’s yacht, drinking my champagne, speaking to me like I’m nothing.