Page 42 of How to Train Your Billionaire

Tessa:I need you to remain calm.

Frankie:That’s never going to happen, but continue.

“I haven’t played yet, so don’t spoil it for me, Charlie boy.” I grin.

“I’m stuck on the last guess. There’s aPand aT, that’s all I’ve got.”

“La la la,” I say, sticking my fingers in my ears. “I can’t hear you.”

He frowns, then laughs, shaking his head. I go back to texting.

Tessa:I may or may not be dating a man who unironically calls himself “Big D.”

I nearly choke.

Frankie:... Please tell me that’s just a dumb nickname.

Tessa:His actual name is Darren.

Frankie:Oh, thank God. For a second, I thought you were dating a walking meme.

Tessa:Well, I haven’t ruled that out yet.

Frankie:How did this happen? Why did this happen? Is this a cry for help?

Tessa:He’s hot. He has a motorcycle. He makes me laugh. And he once saved a duck from a storm drain.

Frankie:Damn it. That’s distressingly charming.

Tessa:IKnow. This is why I texted you. Am I being delusional, or is this fate?

Frankie:Honestly? Fate. Or a very well-orchestrated mistake. Either way, I support the chaos.

Tessa:That’s why you’re my best friend.

Frankie:Right back atcha, girly.

Tessa:So, where are you these days? France, right?

I glance up. Charles is still frowning at his phone. “Pitch? Party? Patio?” I offer.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t start with a P. It’s the third letter.”

I chew my lip. “I’ll keep noodling.”

Frankie:Yes, we’re in Paris for a few days, then heading to Nice. I think we leave from Antibes?

Tessa:Oh la la, so fancy. Have a blast. Send pictures.

Frankie:Will do.

“Input!” I blurt out.

A server in a crisp white shirt shoots me a look.

Sorry,I mouth, realizing I don’t know the French word for “apologies.” I’d studied the basics: Bonjour. Merci. S’il vous plaît.Fromage.

“That’s it,” Charles says, typing the word with a grin.