Page 46 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I roll my eyes, but his words stick like gum on the bottom of my shoe. I’ve spent so much time keeping my head down, playing it safe, assuming that people like me—people who fumble through life, who aren’t all put together—don’t get to be the ones whowin. But what if I’ve been wrong?

“I’m me, Charles. I’m probably still going to make an ass of myself sometimes.” The words are quieter than I mean them to be.

Charles doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, you’ll have some mess-ups from time to time, that’s life. And then you try again.”

I’m quiet for a moment, then smirk again. “Okay, fine. But if I get called out, I’m blaming you.”

Charles grins. “Deal. But you won’t. Because the moment you start believing in yourself, the world follows suit.” He nudges my shoulder. “And you have no idea how much I’m looking forward to watching you flourish, Frankie. The world has no clue what’s coming.”

I exhale, watching the last sliver of sun slip beneath the water.

What if he’s right?

Chapter Nineteen

Embrace the Chaos

Frankie

Our second evening on board, and I’m halfway through my first glass of wine, watching the sky melt into soft purples and pinks over the harbor, when I hear footsteps on the deck behind me. I assume it’s Charles, or maybe a member of the crew. But when I turn, I don’t see Charles.

I see Hayes.

I blink, convinced the wine is playing tricks on me. But no, it’s definitely him, standing on the deck of this ridiculous yacht like hebelongshere. Which, of course, he does. He’s probably been sailing on superyachts since birth, while I only recently learned that they don’t have hatches to batten.

Hayes takes a slow glance around, his expression unreadable. He looks irritatingly good—pressed linen shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his strong forearms, hair perfectly tousled like the sea breeze personally styled it for him. Meanwhile, I’m barefoot, slightly tipsy, and still trying to comprehend why he’s here.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, setting my wine down before I accidentally spill it all over the very expensive teak deck.

Hayes’s eyes flick to me. “Nice to see you, too, Francesca.”

I cross my arms. “Not that I’m notthrilledto see you, but why are you here?”

Charles, who has suddenly materialized beside me, answers for him. “I invited him.”

I snap my head toward Charles. “Youwhat?”

Charles sighs like I’m being unreasonable. “Hayes was in Nice for business, and I thought, why not extend an invitation? I assumed you wouldn’t mind.”

I turn back to Hayes. “And youaccepted?”

Hayes shrugs. “Free dinner.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re a billionaire.”

He smirks. “Doesn’t mean I turn down a good meal.”

I groan and rub my temples. “Of course not.”

Charles pats my shoulder in an infuriatingly paternal way. “Be nice, Frankie.” Then he turns to Hayes. “We’re having dinner on the aft deck. You’ll love it.”

Hayes nods like this is all perfectly normal, like we were allexpectinghim, and I’m the only one who finds this turn of events completelyinsane.

I exhale sharply, grab my wine, and take a long sip. It’s going to be averylong dinner.

Charles shows Hayes around, and together they geek out over some smart control panel. He must sense my mood, because he leans close and whispers near my ear, “Don’t worry, I’m not staying, I just came to see you off since I was in the area.”

He just happened to be in France? I don’t pry, but that seems unlikely. The truce we called in Hawaii seems a million miles ago, and all I feel now is that he’s checking up on me again—here to make sure I don’t screw up.