Page 26 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“Stop, Olivia,” Hayes warns.

She tilts her head, lips curving in a faux-apologetic smile. “Oh, you know. It’s just ... not exactly your world.” She gestures vaguely around us—the cabanas, the designer resort wear, the kind of wealth that doesn’t check price tags. “I imagine it’s a little overwhelming.”

There it is. The little dig wrapped in a velvet glove. The old me—yesterday me—would have just laughed it off, maybe even agreed. This isn’tmy world. But today? Today I’m tired. Tired of pretending I don’t notice when people like Olivia talk down to me like I’m some kind of charity case.

I set my drink down, meeting her gaze with a look that saysnot today, Satan.

“You’re right, Olivia. This isn’t my world. I don’t usually vacation in places where a round of cocktails costs nearly as much as my monthly car payment. But you know what’s funny?” I smile sweetly. “I’m still here. Turns out, you don’t have to be born into privilege to exist in a space like this. You just have to be invited.”

Her lips part slightly, caught off guard.

I lean in a fraction. “And before you say it—yes, Iwasinvited. By Charles. Who, last time I checked, doesn’t throw around pity invites.”

Olivia blinks, her smile faltering just slightly. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, I think you did.” I say, enjoying this far more than I probably should. “But it’s okay, Olivia. I’d hate to take up any more space in yourexclusivelittle world.”

I grab my trash and rise to my feet, feeling an unfamiliar, almost heady satisfaction roll through me.Huh. That felt good.

I head back over to the beachside shack to order something I can bring back for Charles. And maybe a walking taco for me, because Hayes was right—what the hell was I thinking?

While I wait at the counter, I can’t help but see Hayes and Olivia from his vantage point—they’re in a heated conversation behind the bathrooms. She puts her hand on her hip and gives him a mocking look. Hayes looks down and shakes his head.

When he looks up at her, he says something—calm, controlled—but she throws up her hands like he just suggested she throw her designer handbag in the ocean. A tense silence stretches between them before she turns on her heel and struts away, leaving Hayes staring after her, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Anger rises inside me. I don’t know why I care, don’t know why her mere existence should annoy me so much.

“I’m sorry my breasts didn’t come with receipts,” I mutter.

“What?” Hayes approaches from behind, and his gaze drops to my chest.

“Nothing!” I blurt. I didn’t realize I was talking to myselfout loud. We both watch as Olivia storms off, her white dress floating behind her. “Trouble in paradise?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from my boobs.

“Something like that. It’s fine, though.” There’s an edge to his voice, and I sense I’ve touched a nerve.

“Order up for Frankie!” the cashier shouts.

I grab Charles’s lunch and return to Hayes’s side.

“It’s okay to feel your emotions.” He glances over at me like this is a foreign concept. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Except maybe it does.” Maybe I can impart some of the wisdom Charles is bestowing upon me. What was our last conversation ... something about asking the right questions. “Does she make you happy?” I grab a stack of napkins and some ketchup packets for Charles.

“I broke up with her,” he says flatly, looking out at the water.

Oh.Is this because of me?But I’m not brave enough to ask him.

“She’ll be flying back to New York this afternoon.”

“Okay.” I wish I sounded even a teensy bit sad about that, but let’s be honest ... I couldn’t care less about some entitled D-lister getting sent home.

“I need to go to the grocery store. Pick up a few things.” Charles gave me a list.

He needs stool softener, apparently, and some special type of toothpaste.

“I’ll join you,” Hayes announces, rising from his chair.