Page 16 of My French Love Affair

I glare at him, deeply unamused.

The stranger chuckles, stepping back from the car and putting some distance between us.

“Take my car,ma belle.” He gestures towards it with a lazy flick of his wrist. “I’ve already been waiting half the morning anyway. I can wait a little longer until he returns.”

It’s impossible not to roll my eyes at his ridiculousness.

“You know, your English is good, but you really need to work on your pronouns. It’s notyourcar - it’smine.”

He laughsagain, clearly enjoying thiswaytoo much.

I don’t bother responding. Instead, I climb into the backseat, close the door on the handsome but infuriating stranger, give the driver the hotel address and pull out my phone to immediately start texting the group chat.

Me:Made it!

Airport was a nightmare - people were literally one step away from full-blown cage fighting over taxis. Finally in a car though - location is on x

Emma reacts immediately with a love heart, while Jas sends a string of laughing emojis.

Leah:Welcome to Monaco, babe.

The sun is shining, and the streets are paved with beautiful men. Hope you’re ready.

I refuse to look up as the taxi pulls away.

Mostly because I just know that if I do, he’ll still be there - and no doubt he’ll still have that stupid, infuriating smirk on his face.

And I amnotabout to give him the satisfaction of one last glance.

Instead, I turn towards the opposite window, watching as the blue skies of Nice open up before me.

I exhale slowly, trying to shake the lingering awareness of the fact that men as handsome as he was don’t just appear in my space every day.

Or maybe Leah’s onto something. Maybe this is just what they all look like around here.

Maybe Monaco is some kind of alternate reality where gorgeous, aggravating men roam the streets like pigeons in Trafalgar Square.

A ridiculous thought, but not an entirely unwelcome one.

Forget London, though. I’m here, and I’m more than ready to enjoy the sun -andthe single life.

Chapter Five

Poppy

The drive from Nice to Monaco is extraordinary - in the best way possible.

The road twists along the cliffs, revealing breathtaking views of the Mediterranean below, and the towns we pass look like they’ve been pulled straight from a vintage postcard. Pastel-colored buildings cling to the rocks as if they grew there naturally, and every few miles, I spot yet another picturesque little café where I could easily waste hours pretending to be effortlessly chic.

I exhale, forcing myself to absorb it all.

New chapter. Fresh start. And no more Noah.

This is good.Perfect, even.

Everything is working out as it should.

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