Page 119 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“Me too.”

“Even if it was ridiculous?”

“Especially because it was ridiculous.”

She falls asleep in my arms while I stare at the ceiling and think about how everything in my life just shifted on its axis.

For once, I’m not scared of the uncertainty.

I’m excited by it.

Epilogue

New Adventures

Frankie

Six Months Later

“You named the Wi-Fi ‘PrettyFlyForAWiFi’ again.” Hayes shakes his head, staring at his laptop screen. “We’re on a yacht in the Greek islands. Couldn’t you have gone with something more ... sophisticated?”

“Like what? ‘YachtRockOnly’? ‘BillionaireBoysClub’?” I’m sprawled across the sun lounger in a bikini that cost more than my old monthly clothing budget, but whatever. Golden Adventures is officially killing it, and I can afford nice things now.

“Those are actually better than your usual choices.”

“Excuse me, but my Wi-Fi names are art. Remember ‘MartinRouterKing’? ‘TheLANBeforeTime’? Those were comedy gold.”

Hayes closes his laptop and moves to the lounger next to mine. Six months of being together, and he still looks at me like I’m some fascinating puzzle he can’t quite solve.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love my ridiculousness.”

“I do.”

The simple admission still does things to my chest. Even after all this time.

We’re anchored off Santorini, taking a break from the Golden Adventures Mediterranean tour I’m personally leading. Twelve couples in their seventies, all having the time of their lives exploring Greek islands without worrying about mobility issues or dietary restrictions.

Hayes invested in the company three months ago. Not because I needed the money—Charles’s inheritance took care of that—but because watching me build something from nothing apparently does things to his possessive streak.

Case in point: Yesterday, when Dimitri, our very attractive Greek tour guide, spent too much time explaining Byzantine history to me.

“He’s just being thorough,” I told Hayes when he appeared at my elbow like a gorgeous, territorial shadow.

“He’s being thorough with his eyeballs on your ass.”

“My ass is covered by a very respectable sundress.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. Then he kissed me in front of the entire tour group, marking his territory like some kind of billionaire caveman.

Our clients loved it. Mrs. Martinez actually clapped.

Now we’re having a rare afternoon alone while the group explores Oia. Hayes is reading some architecture magazine—he’s been taking classes, slowly figuring out what he actually wants instead of what he’s supposed to want.

“Mrs. Patterson cornered me this morning,” I tell him.

“What did she want?”