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)
"You’re all so dramatic,” I snort, rolling my eyes as I grab my phone, but then I pause. “But… I love you all. So much.”
“We love you too, Pops,” Jas smiles.
I’m just about to make the call down to the hotel reception to ask that they order me a car when I tap my screen and see a notification waiting for me.
I open the message, my heart skipping slightly.
A car is waiting for you downstairs.
No rush - whenever you’re ready.
"Who’s that?" Leah asks, lounging back on the bed as she scrolls through her phone.
I hesitate.
"Uh -"
Emma and Jas are already watching me expectantly.
I exhale, turning the screen so they can see.
The reaction is immediate.
Emma squeals, Jas clutches her chest dramatically, and even Leah looks up from her phone with an approving nod.
"God, that’s so hot," Jas declares.
"Why is it so attractive when men are organised?" Emma sighs, placing a hand over her heart. “He’s just so - so -”
"Don’t say it," I warn.
"Thoughtful!"
Jas grins knowingly.
"Oh, you’re in trouble, babe."
"And I, for one, love it,” Leah adds.
I shake my head, but I can’t deny it.
I feel… something.
Something thrumming in my chest, something I refuse to acknowledge.
I suppress a smile as I type out a quick response.
Noted.
I’ll be down soon.
Then, with one final deep breath, I grab my clutch, give my outfit one last once-over in the mirror, and make my way to the door.
"Wish me luck," I mutter.
"You don’t need it," Emma grins.
"Make him work for it," Jas winks.
Leah lifts her glass. "And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smirk that tugs at my lips as I step out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind me.
Chapter Forty
Poppy
The evening air is warm as I step out of the hotel lobby, my heels clicking lightly against the polished stone as I make my way towards the sleek black car idling at the curb.
The driver is already waiting, standing by the open door, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Bonsoir, mademoiselle," he greets me smoothly.
I glance up with a polite smile as I step towards the vehicle, about to thank him -
And then I frown.
I know him.
It takes me a second to place where from, but the moment it clicks, my lips part in pure disbelief.
No fucking way.
He dips his head slightly, still waiting for me to climb inside.
"Are you ready to go, mademoiselle?"
I stare at him. Then at the car. Then back at him.
And that’s when it fully sinks in.
"You," I breathe, my eyes widening. "You were the driver who took me from the airport."
He chuckles, his expression entirely too knowing.
"Yes, mademoiselle."
"You -" I shake my head, apparently losing my ability to speak. "You were there. When he -"
His lips twitch in amusement. "Yes."
I inhale sharply, suddenly needing a second to process this.
"You’re his driver?"
He nods.
"Oui, mademoiselle."
I climb inside the car, feeling slightly dazed.
He closes the door behind me and moves to sit in the front seat, my brain going into overdrive the entire time.
His driver.
As in, Frederic Moreau’s personal driver.
I sit completely still as the car glides away from the curb, my mind running a thousand miles a minute.
"Wait -" I lean forward slightly. "When you say you’re his driver, you mean…?"
His eyes briefly meet mine in the rearview mirror, and his tone is matter-of-fact.
"I work exclusively for Monsieur Moreau."
I gape at him.
I accused him of trying to abduct me. I yelled at him for trying to steal my taxi and scoffed when he proposed to share it.
And all along, it was his own goddamn car.
I sit back against the seat, horrified as memories of that morning replay in my mind with gut-wrenching clarity.
No wonder he knew exactly which hotel I was staying at. His driver had been the one to drop me off there.
No wonder he hadn’t been remotely annoyed when I’d stormed into the car, ranting about how women get abducted in foreign countries. He’d been amused.
And suddenly, I need to know why.
I lean forwards again, my voice more urgent now.
"Why didn’t he say anything?"
The driver’s expression remains unreadable as he keeps his eyes on the road.
"Pardon, mademoiselle?"
"When I got in the car. When I accused him of stealing my taxi -" I emphasise the words, still horrified by them. "Why didn’t he correct me? Why didn’t he tell me it was his car?"
The driver exhales a quiet laugh.
"Perhaps Monsieur Moreau enjoys a little entertainment."
I blink. "So he just let me make a fool of myself?"
He shrugs.
"It would appear so."
I sink back against the seat, covering my face with both hands.
Frederic had let me go off on him. He’d let me sit in his car, fuming with self-righteous anger, accusing him of stealing it -
And the whole time, he’d just been enjoying himself.
I just don’t understand it. Can’t make any sense of it.