Page 120 of The Exception

His brief confusion was quickly overcome with understanding. He stood, giving me a wolfish smile. “I’d love to.”

* * *

California sunshine pouredthrough the curtains of Graham’s penthouse. The light was different here, harsher somehow than the mornings at the château. The bed was bigger, empty. But when I turned to check the time on my phone, I saw a fresh vase with an arrangement of sunflowers, white roses, and white lilies.

I smiled, thinking back on everything Graham had told me about his gran and the secret language of flowers. I wondered if he’d been trying to send me messages all along.

My mind drifted back to that evening in the field of sunflowers. When he’d told me that lilies could have many meanings, including everlasting love. And he valued sunflowers as symbols of loyalty, strength, and resilience. The next day, I’d downloaded a book on the symbolism of flowers, and I’d pored over it.

I didn’t remember Graham saying anything about white roses. But according to my book, they symbolized anything from loyalty and respect to silence or even eternal love.

I stretched and grabbed my phone, typing out a quick message to thank him, including several red rose emojis to symbolize love, passion, romance, commitment, desire, and devotion. All the things I felt about him.

Graham: Good morning, beautiful wife.

Me: Thank you for the flowers. How early did you leave?

Graham: Early. Needed to get a jump on some stuff before the board meeting. You were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you. Have a good day, mon cœur.

Me: You too, mon doudou.

I waitedfor his reaction to my latest pet name. I’d basically called him the French equivalent of “pookie.” He was going to hate it.If only I could see his face right now.

Graham: Try again, mon petit poisson.

I laughed to myself.Now that I knew the meaning behind his pet name, it didn’t bother me as much. It had taken me a while to get it out of him, but Graham admitted that he’d called memon petit poissonin reference to our conversation about a chemistry test and the fact that Nate had likened kissing Cece Golden to kissing a dead fish.

Graham said that I was the opposite of that. And when he’d realized how much the nickname irked me, he couldn’t help but needle me a little.

I typed out another message. He didn’t like that? We’d see how he felt about being referred to as “doll.”

Me: Ma poupée

Graham: Absolument pas.

A huge smileovertook my face, and I flopped back on the bed. I held up my left hand, admiring my wedding ring, thinking about my husband and how lucky I was. I had a spouse who shared my interests. Who was smart and generous and kindhearted and nurturing. A man who was fluent in French and loved to flirt with me in the language of love. A man who supported my dreams and did everything in his power to make sure they came true.

And to think it had all started because of a business arrangement.

I had some things to take care of for the château, but I wanted to see Graham. I needed to see him. We’d both been so busy since returning to LA last week, and he was supposed to play poker with his brothers and Pierce tonight. I’d been invited to hang out with Kendall, Emerson, and Emerson’s twin, Astrid.

I was happy for him to enjoy time with family and friends. And I enjoyed spending time with Kendall and Emerson. But I found myself longing to return to the château. Not only to see the progress and work on projects but so I would have Graham all to myself.

I texted Willow my plan for the day then pushed out of bed and padded to the closet, grabbing a wig before heading to the bathroom to get ready. I’d just finished applying my brows, lashes, and wig when my phone rang. Jo’s name flashed across the screen, along with a request to video chat.

I pressed the button to accept the call as I headed toward the closet.

“Ooh, girl. That wig is fire!”

“Thanks.” I fluffed my hair, a new wig that Graham’s stylist Jay Crowe had helped me select. “I call her Genevieve.” I did a sexy little shake.

“TrèsFrench,” Jo said. “I approve.” Her jaw dropped. “Wait. Is that a store? Where are you?”

“In my closet,” I said, panning the phone around so she could see it. “Technically, Graham’s and my closet at his penthouse.” I indicated to his suits and shirts, all perfectly pressed and precisely spaced. I smiled.

“One of the many perks of marrying a billionaire, I suppose.” She let out a wistful sigh.

“It is fun to dress up,” I said. I’d always had hand-me-down clothes, never anything new. And certainly not anything that was in style or on-trend, let alone designer. “And look at all these wigs Graham got me.”

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