Page 45 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I lean against the railing, the salty breeze cooling my skin as the sun melts into the horizon. The stone walls of the city darken into shadow as lights come on in the old town above them—forming the kind ofview people write poetry about. Or, I don’t know, put on their vision boards. But instead of feeling inspired, all I can think about is how I feel like I don’t belong here. Not really.

Olivia said something similar to me back in Hawaii, noticing how out of place I was. I reveled in putting her in her place then, even if I’d been left with remnants of doubt circling in my head.

I stuck my foot in my mouth with Laurent and Colette, and let’s be honest, I doubt it will be the last time.

Though this isn’t really about Laurent and Colette—it’s about me. Is this really what I’m supposed to be doing with my life? Should I pack it up and head back to Jersey and find a real job?

I never expected to feel so unsettled vacationing in the French Riviera, but here we are.

Charles steps up beside me, setting his drink down with a quiet clink. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I nod.

He turns to me, probably not used to me being so quiet and withdrawn. “Are you doing okay?”

“Honestly?” I squint at him.

“Always,” he assures me.

“I don’t know. I feel like I keep waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and tell me I don’t belong here. That I took a wrong turn and ended up in the wrong life.”

“Is this about earlier?”

Even the perpetually composed Charles seemed somewhat embarrassed by my comments.

“Maybe.”

“You know, you sell yourself short.”

A laugh escapes me—quiet and a little shaky. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I prefer to think of it as being realistic.”

He side-eyes me. “No, it’s self-sabotage. There’s a difference. Do you think I had everything all figured out on day one?”

I give him a hard look. “Of course. You’reyou.”

Charles laughs. “Fair point. But I promise you, there have been times when I don’t know what I’m doing either. I just decided to show up anyway. Confidence isn’t something you wait for—it’s something you build by doing. By showing up, even when you feel like an impostor.”

I scoff. “Easier said than done.”

“Then fake it. Walk in like you own the place, even if inside, you’re still figuring out where the bathroom is.”

“So ... just lie to myself?”

“No. Borrow confidence from your future self. The version of you who already knows she belongs. You’re her. You just haven’t caught up yet.”

The words hit like a flick to the forehead—annoying and impossible to ignore. I grip the railing and release a slow exhale.

Charles shifts, leaning one elbow on the railing. “All I’m saying is don’t discount yourself.”

“I’m not,” I say quickly. I know I’m pretty great, I just don’t know if I’m great in this role or with these kinds of people.

“Aren’t you, though? You don’t think you deserve to be in certain rooms, so you keep yourself out of them. You don’t think you’re good enough for certain people, so you keep your distance.”

My grip tightens around the railing. I don’t like where this is going. Mostly because he’s not wrong.

“Okay, Dr. Phil,” I say, forcing a smirk to disarm him. “And what exactly am I supposed to do? Just wake up one morning and decide I’m the main character of my life?”

Charles grins. “Yes.”