Page 68 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I stare at him, waiting for some kind of punch line, but he just watches me, his expression unreadable.

“Why?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intend.

His fingers stop playing with the wrench. “Because you deserve a break. And because I want to take you out.”

My stomach flips. “Take me out?”

“Yeah.” He turns to face me fully, his knee knocking against mine. “Off the yacht. Away from all of this for a few hours. Just you and me.”

I don’t know what to say. My pulse thrums in my ears, and I suddenly feel hyperaware of everything—the warmth of his leg brushing against mine, the way his gaze lingers, steady and sure.

“Unless you don’t want to,” he adds, his voice softer now.

I should say something. I should form words, but my brain is lagging, stuck somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to anticipation.

“I—” I clear my throat. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

He smirks, but there’s something nervous about it. Like he’s not as sure of himself as he wants me to think. “That a yes?”

I let out a breath, my lips curving despite myself. “Yeah. That’s a yes.”

His smirk turns into a full smile, and I feel it like a spark in my chest.

Maybe stepping off this yacht with Hayes is a bad idea. Or maybe it’s exactly what I need.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

When You Least Expect It

Frankie

I smooth down the flowy white sundress I changed into, the light fabric swishing around my legs as I step onto the deck, where Hayes is waiting. He looks effortlessly put together in a crisp navy button-down with the sleeves rolled up, paired with khaki shorts thatprobablycost more than my entire wardrobe. Sunglasses hang from the collar of his shirt, and his hair is still slightly tousled from the breeze, making him look unfairly good.

Charles stands nearby, watching us with the same mild amusement he always carries, but today, there’s something softer in his expression.

“You two look decent enough,” he says, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “Try not to embarrass the yacht.”

Hayes shrugs, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No promises.”

I roll my eyes but smile, stepping closer to Charles. “You sure you’ll be okay without me for a few hours?”

He scoffs. “I think I’ll survive. Go. Enjoy yourselves. And don’t let this one”—he gestures at Hayes—“get you into too much trouble.”

Hayes places a hand over his heart. “I would never.”

Charles snorts, shaking his head as he waves us off. “Go on, before I change my mind.”

As we step onto the dock, Hayes glances over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Ready?”

I take a breath, strangely nervous, and nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

A sleek silver car waits for us at the curb, parked like it belongs in a Bond movie.

Hayes opens my door before sliding into the driver’s seat. As with most things in his life, I’m sure, things just appear where and when he needs them to.

We pull away from the port, tires humming against cobblestone before the road smooths into narrow, winding lanes that cut through hillsides dotted with olive trees.

I bask in the warmth of the sun as it spills through the window and dances across my bare arms.