Page 133 of Money Reigns
In my life now.
In everything.
I can’t justleaveher behind. Can’t pretend the thought of sleeping in a cold hotel bed without her doesn’t already grate.
But how do I bring her to Paris and leave her in some hotel room like luggage while I go sit through a dinner that’s guaranteed to crack open everything I’ve buried?
I don’t have an answer.
Not for Paris.
Not for them.
Not for how the fuck I’m supposed to sit through dinner with ghosts while the one person I actually care about is a continent away.
A single knock and the door opens.
I look up.
She steps inside, hips swaying, wearing that little smirk that tells me she’s in the mood to make me lose control.
“Mr. Beaumont,”she purrs. “You’ve been teasing me all day.”
She crosses the room slowly, unhurried.
“I’m here to collect.”
I don’t say anything. Don’t smile.
I can feel the tension radiating off me like static.
She stops in front of my desk, eyes narrowing slightly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I mutter.
Flat. False.
And she knows it.
She rounds the desk before I can stop her, sliding between me and the edge, planting herself right in front of me, her legs brushing my knees.
“You look pissed,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Talk to me.”
I shake my head once.
Sharp. Dismissive.
I don’t want her near this part of me.
The part that still flinches at my father’s voice, that still fights old shadows.
She leans in and kisses me.
Soft at first. A whisper of lips. A question.
Then deeper.
