Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
I tilt her chin up, looking into her eyes. “Tell me you’re okay. Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”
I kiss her then, soft and slow, tasting the truth of it on her lips. She’s mine, in every way that matters. And I’m never letting her go.
Chapter Nine
MABLE
The champagne hits my tongue with a burst of bubbles that I feel all the way to my toes. Okay, not all the way to my toes. Wells is the only one who can make them curl. I smile, my cheeks warming thinking about him.
I still can’t believe I lost my virginity this morning. I so badly wanted to call Truly, but I want her to stay locked in on her own husband. They had a very rough start. She has been in love with him for most of her life, but she didn’t think he felt the same about her. She couldn’t have been more wrong. That man was down bad for her. I had a sense it would end up like that, or I wouldn’t have given her my passport to use. Still, I can’t believe I actually allowed her to use it, but she is my best friend. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for her.
Ah, maybe I have been putting myself out there doing things I never would before. This was supposed to be a fun solo trip, and now I’ve gone and lost my virginity to a prince, next in line to be king.
I know of the Montclair family. Of course I’ve heard the name before. They own a very large estate in the States and more than a few businesses. When he’d told me he was from Solaria, I didn’t put together how deeply he’d meant that.
I know the country but not a ton of the ins and outs. I’ll have to do a crash course. If I’m good at anything, it’s studying. People would find it boring and dull, as I’ve been told, but I get the sense if I told Caldwell, he’d find it adorable.
He’s always calling me “sweet thing,” “beautiful,” “gorgeous,” “pretty girl,” and “sweetheart.” I get that silly excited flutter each time.
My phone vibrates in my hand, a message from my mom coming through. I clear it and then stare at the screen. I’ve never done that before. I always answer right away, but you know what? Maybe I’m busy having a life now too, Mom. Is that mean? I huff a small breath out. I’ll call her tomorrow and get back to relaxing. I’m enjoying my afternoon while reliving the lovemaking Caldwell and I shared.
I’ve been sitting in this plush robe for two hours while someone named Jules transforms my hair into soft waves that cascade down my back, and now a very nice woman named Petra is painting my nails a pale pink that apparently costs more than most people spend on a year’s worth of manicures. Not that I can’t afford it. I was born into a trust fund. I could buy the spa if I wanted, but still I find myself doing the mental math out of habit.
Growing up with money but not this kind of money is its own strange thing. I went to the best schools and had the right connections, but the Caldwell world operates on a different frequency entirely. One I haven’t quite tuned into yet. I’m not sure I want to with these manicures. Sure, it’s beautiful, but it’s wasteful too.
That’s one thing about my mom dragging me all over the world. You get to see a lot of different countries; with that comes a reality check. That is one thing my mom gave me. She showed me the world. It’s why I went into urban studies.
“I think that should do it, Miss Mable,” Petra says, finishing my last nail with a precise stroke. “Would you like the paraffin treatment for your hands? Very moisturizing.”
“Yes, please,” I say, settling deeper into the chair. I might as well enjoy the full experience. God knows when I’ll have time to relax like this again once we get back to reality.
The spa is all white marble and soft music with women in similar plush robes lounging in various states of pampering. I recognize a few faces from the society pages—daughters of senators, wives of tech billionaires, women who summer in places you’ve only read about. They glance at me occasionally, curious but not welcoming. I’m new here. An unknown variable.
I close my eyes and push that all out and focus on Caldwell, which always puts a smile back on me. The way Caldwell looked at me, touched me, and whispered things that made me believe this was real. That I am not just a vacation fling.