Page 45 of The Exception

“Close your mouth,mon petit poisson.” Then he mumbled, “Before I put it to good use.” Or at least, that’s what it sounded like.

Maybe I was imagining things because that certainly didn’t seem like something Graham would say. And definitely not to me. I didn’t know what to remark on first—the fact that he’d spoken French or that he’d called me his little fish.

I tried to ignore the heat coursing through me at his suggestion.

“Do you actually speak French?” I asked in French. “Or did you use an online translator?”

“My grandparents insisted that we all learn multiple languages so we could communicate in a global economy.” His French was perfect.

“Smart. I knew you were fluent in Japanese and Spanish. I just didn’t realize you were also fluent in other languages,” I continued, enjoying the fact that we could converse in another language.

“Japanese, French, Spanish, and German.”

“Holy shit,” I said, finally returning to English. First, the black belt and now this? It made me realize that maybe I didn’t know my future husband as well as I’d thought.

“Have you always been fluent in French?” he asked. “I don’t remember seeing that listed on your résumé.”

“I was always proficient. I took French classes through high school and college, but I wasn’t fluent until more recently. After I started looking to purchase a château, I enrolled in a French language immersion course so I could converse with the architects and artisans.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful.“Tant d’idiomes amusants.”

“Oui.”The language certainly had some interesting idioms.

“One of my personal favorites is,‘Qui ne risque rien, n’a rien.’”

He who risks nothing, has nothing.

That wasn’t surprising.

“Back to the fingerprint thing,” I said, trying to get us back on track. I remembered that we weren’t alone, and I was fully aware that Willow and the team were just standing by, waiting for us. “How do you have my fingerprints?”

“They’re in your file from your background check when you got the job at Huxley.”

“Oh.” Right. Of course. That made sense.

“Also…” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a black Amex with my name on it. “Feel free to charge whatever you need.”

“Whatever I need?” I choked on the word, thinking that was incredibly broad.

“Anything you need.” Was his voice deeper, or was I imagining it?

“That card has no spending limit.” And he’d added me as an authorized user? Whenhad he even done that?

“And…?” He arched one brow.

“And you’re already giving me…” I glanced around, mindful of my word choice. “So much.”

“I trust you,” he said.

“But what if I take advantage of it?” I didn’t intend to, but I’d never had such spending power at my fingertips. I’d never been handed his personal black Amex card, not even when I’d been working as his assistant.

“You won’t,” he said simply.

“But how do youknow?” I asked, still in awe of the trust he was placing in me. I knew it wasn’t something he gave but something that had to be earned.

“Because—” he stepped closer, tucking a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear “—I know you.”

I was still thinking about what Graham had said when Willow pulled up to his penthouse an hour later. I’d enjoyed talking to her in the car and getting to know her, not that she’d volunteered much information about herself. I supposed it was a job hazard—or maybe a requirement—but it wasn’t like I had previous experience to go on. I’d never had a bodyguard before. I appreciated that Graham took my safety seriously, even if it seemed unnecessary.

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