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)
"Okay, before we let Poppy fully descend into her independent-woman fashionista era, we need to discuss the itinerary."
Her eyes practically glint with mischief as she points a perfectly manicured nail in my direction.
She pauses for dramatic effect as she locks eyes with me in mock-seriousness.
"And remember: this is a dictatorship, Poppy. Not a democracy. You will comply."
Jas nods solemnly as she moves to sit down besides Leah.
"We’ve painstakingly curated two week’s worth of fun, luxury, and at least one bad decision."
"Preferably more than one," Leah adds.
I cross my arms over my chest and sigh.
"And what if I just want to lounge in the hotel, sketch, and sip overpriced cocktails in peace?"
"Oh, Poppy. Sweet, naïve, hermit Poppy,” Emma smiles. “This is Monaco. There is no ‘lounging’ unless you’re recovering from a hangover or counting your diamond collection."
Jas leans forward. "You’re single now, babe. That means you are legally required to say yes to everything reckless and ridiculous."
"Convenient," I mutter.
"Right. Tomorrow - beach club,” Leah grins, unlocking her phone. “We’ve already reserved the loungers, and you will be wearing something that is both tiny and fabulous."
"Thursday is casino night,” Jas cuts in. “And, before you ask, no, we are not letting you sit in a corner sketching gowns while sipping a mocktail."
I gasp dramatically. "Betrayal."
Leah waves me off. "Oh, please - we love you. That’s why we’re forcing you to have a life."
"We still have to figure out when we’re going to squeeze in dinner at that insane place Hannah recommended. Truffle pasta, cocktails served in actual golden chalices, and waiters who look like they walked straight off a Prada runway,” Emma beams. “It sounds like heaven."
"And, of course, that takes us to the main event,” Leah smirks.
“Yes! The Grand Prix!" Emma squeals, clapping her hands. “Next weekend, but it can’t come quick enough.”
I groan. "This sounds like a lot. Do I really need to -”
"Yes!" they all yell in unison, making me wince.
"Okay,” Emma starts. “So obviously, at the time we booked, you weren’t coming because you were playing devoted girlfriend -"
"- before you realised you were dating a discount Shakespeare," Leah adds.
"Thank you for that reminder," I grumble.
"Anyway," Emma continues, "so we already have our tickets. But don’t worry - Leah thinks she can get you one."
I blink over towards my friend.
"You personally?" I ask.
Leah tosses her dark hair over her shoulder. "I have my ways."
I narrow my eyes at her.
"Elaborate."
"Let’s just say… I met a guy,” she grins.
I sigh. "You flirted, didn’t you?"
"Correct. And now, you’ll have a ticket. You’re welcome."
I hesitate.
"But I don’t even know anything about it!”
Emma scoffs. "You don’t need to know anything about it, Poppy. You just need to like hot men, champagne, and the fact that you’re in freaking Monaco."
“I’m not so sure it’s that simple,” I frown.
"Well, if nothing else, think of the fashion. The outfits. The couture,” Jas smirks. “The potential inspiration."
I exhale, a small smile tugs at my lips.
She knows how to convince me.
Besides, this is supposed to be my fresh start. I’m young, I’m single, and I’m in Monaco, for crying out loud - I can’t just sit in the hotel and sketch outfits all day.
"Fine," I say, exhaling. "I’ll go."
The room erupts into cheers, and Leah claps her hands together excitedly.
"Yes! And so Poppy’s wild era begins."
"I wouldn't call going to the F1 being in my wild era,” I laugh.
"It’s a gateway to wild,” she says. “This is just step one."
I shake my head, but I’m smiling as Emma kicks her legs out from under the covers.
"Perfect! Now that that’s settled - cocktails on the balcony?"
I follow them outside, laughing along as the warm breeze ruffles my hair, and it’s then that I feel it again.
That little spark of excitement.
Maybe they’re right after all. Maybe this is the start of something new.
I turn and glance at my suitcase, where my sketchbooks are tucked safely inside. I brought them just in case inspiration struck.
But maybe I don’t just need inspiration.
Maybe I need an adventure.
Chapter Six
Frederic
The world blurs.
The car snarls beneath me, raw power barely contained as I launch out of the corner.
The Monaco circuit is a high-speed chess game, where the slightest hesitation is a checkmate into the barriers. No run-off areas, no margin for error - just concrete, adrenaline, and instinct.
I push harder.
The G-forces crush against my ribcage, my hands gripping the wheel with perfect precision as I exit the tightest hairpin in Formula One. The engine roars in protest, the tires screaming as they fight for grip on the narrow street surface.
The tunnel looms ahead.
Darkness swallows me whole - just for a second.
Then, blinding sunlight. A split-second adjustment.
This.
This is what I live for.
I brake late. Too late.
The rear snaps out, and instinct kicks in.
Fast hands. Quick correction. The moment costs me a tenth, but I hold it, and the car obeys.