Page 84 of My French Love Affair

“You know,” he smirks. “From finally realising who I am.”

My mouth opens and closes repeatedly, and in the end, I just stare at him for a long, drawn-out moment.

Honestly, I can’t quite believe him. Talk aboutarrogant.

“Are you seriously bringing this up?”

“Why not?” he muses. “It’s funny. It doesn’t happen much.”

I scoff, already feeling beyond irritated.

This trip was supposed to be a relaxing break, but at this rate, my blood pressure is going to be higher than it's ever been.

“Oh, I’msosorry for not immediately recognising you, Mr. Formula One Driver.”

Like the condescending asshole that he is, his lips twitch. I hate the fact that this is all so amusing to him - thatI’mso amusing to him.

“That’s not my name.”

“No, but it’s the only one you’re getting from me today.”

“Ah, I see,” he says as his smirk widens. “We’re back to playing games again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say as I glare at him. “We were never playing games.”

He looks entirely unconvinced. “Whatever you say,mon ange.”

I bristle. “Stop calling me that.”

“But it suits you so well.”

I groan, tipping my head back toward the sky, praying for patience.

Then - because I am apparently incapable of just letting things go - I glance back over at him.

“You know, for someone who is supposedlysuperbusydriving at deadly speeds for a living, you seem to have an excessive amount of free time to irritate me.”

“I think you’ll find that I’m very good at multitasking,Poppy.”

He drags out my name, and oh, fuck me - Ihatehim.

I hate that he’s good-looking in the most annoying way possible.

I hate that he clearly knows I’m annoyed and is thriving off it.

I hate how lovely his French accent is.

And Iespeciallyhate that I suddenly can’t stop looking at him.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” he continues. “If anything, you should be grateful.”

“Grateful?” I scoff. “Grateful forwhat?”

I raise my glass to my lips again, and fuckinghell- I’m going to need another drink already.

Arguing with this irritating prick is thirsty work.

“For Monaco’s relentless ability to keep us in each other’s space,” he says, gesturing vaguely around us. “It’s almost like fate,non?”

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