Page 142 of Money Reigns
Wilder exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “He didn’t mean you, Livvy. He’s just an ass.”
His smirk fades. His voice dips; lower, almost regretful.
“Wes is… complicated. Always has been.”
I nod, but the smile I force doesn’t reach my eyes. “It’s fine.”
But it’s not fine. Because it scraped something raw inside me. Something I’ve been trying not to think about since the moment Warren pulled me into his world.
Warren’s past.
The headlines. The gossip. Thewomen.
And here I am, just another one, sitting on his family plane.
The thought makes my stomach twist until warm lips brush my temple. Warren’s voice, low and rough, chases the spiral away.
“Stop over thinking,” he whispers. His grip on my hand tightens, solid, grounding.
I close my eyes, leaning into him even as my pulse hammers.
“You’re it for me, Olivia Baker.”
And somehow, even surrounded by his brothers, I believe him.
***
The hotel is unreal.
Crystal chandeliers drip light. Velvet drapes sweep the floor. Everything touched in gold.
I can’t stop smiling, can’t stop spinning like a kid, becauseParis, actual Paris,is all around me.
I press my palms to the glass, forehead against it as I stare out at the skyline. And there it is. The Eiffel Tower.
Not a postcard. Not a screensaver. Right there in front of me, lit up against the night.
My chest tightens, hot and giddy.
I’ve wanted this since I was a little girl. Paris. Romance. The dream.
And War promised we could stay the weekend. That after all this, we’d come back for Christmas too.
Christmas.
My heart squeezes. I should go home for Christmas. Back to Brokenwoods, to my parents, to Baker’s Inn and the people who actually need me. But Paris… Paris feels like a once-in-a-lifetime wish I never thought I’d get.
Arms slip around my waist. Strong. Certain.
War’s chest presses against my back, solid and warm, and then his head dips, lips brushing the curve of my neck. My breath catches.
He smells expensive and intoxicating and something darker, sharper.Him.
“You look divine,” he murmurs, voice low against my skin. “Like a goddess.”
Heat curls through me. My reflection in the glass catches the Givenchy dress he picked, sleek and perfect, hugging curves I usually try to downplay. For once, I don’t feel out of place. I feel… beautiful.
His mouth grazes my ear, a tease that makes me shiver. “We’ll go to this dinner,” he promises, his tone roughened with hunger. “Smile. Survive. Then come right back here…”
