Page 62 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I shake my head, unable to stop the amused grin that tugs at my lips. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

She clinks her glass against mine, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Too late.”

I watch her for a moment, feeling something shift—something subtle but undeniable. She’s working her way under my skin, and worse, I don’t entirely mind it.

The breeze chooses that moment to pick up, blowing her hair into her face. She hands me her glass of wine so she can gather it all up in a neat bun on the top of her head. I’m mesmerized.

“How’d you do that?” I ask, handing her back her glass not even four seconds later.

“Hmm? Oh, girl magic.” She smiles and takes a sip of her wine. She looks at me over the rim of her glass. “All right, Mr. Perfect, tell me something humiliating. There’s no way you’ve made it through life without at least one mortifying moment.”

“My most embarrassing moment?”

She nods.

“I promise you can’t handle it.”

“Try me.”

I sigh, leaning back. “I once officiated a wedding for my friends after becoming ordained online.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, it was, until the end of the ceremony when I saidYou may nowkillthe bride.”

Francesca bursts into easy laughter. “That’s actually amazing.”

“Is it, though?” The wedding was very fancy—at a country club just outside DC. The hard stares I got from the bridal party were brutal. I’d never put my foot in my mouth like that. Until I did.

She waves me off. “I promise that’s nothing. That’s like a Tuesday for me.”

I chuckle and shake my head.

“Are a lot of your friends married?”

I take another sip of my wine, enjoying this moment with her more than I thought I would. “Some, yes.”

“What about you? Ever have the urge?”

I’m contemplative for a moment, no doubt surprising Frankie, who watches me with a stunned expression. Maybe she expected me to scoff at the idea of marriage. “I got close once,” I say softly. “Someone my parents thought would be suitable since her family runs in the same circles as mine. I guess we made sense on paper.”

“What, like an arranged marriage?”

I scowl. “More like a civilized arrangement—I guess they thought she was the kind of woman men like me end up with. They know the score—ironclad prenup and the like.”

“That sounds so romantic.”

“Yeah, well, I got cold feet and pulled away. I couldn’t really picture myself tied down with one woman. And I was too young at the time.”

I wasn’t used to feeling this exposed. Around her, it’s like my defenses don’t work and every word, every look, feels like I’m giving away pieces of myself.

“And now?” she asks, gazing at me like she’s genuinely curious.

“And now ... I’m not sure.” I physically shudder at the thought. “My parents are a disaster, and I guess that’s left its mark on me.”

Francesca nods. Who knows, maybe she can relate to me in some strange way. We’re both figuring out our place in the world and what we want out of life. Maybe we have more in common than I ever realized.

That’s a weird thought.