Page 48 of How to Train Your Billionaire

Something in his voice tugs at me. It’s strange, seeing this side of him—the part that isn’t completely sure of himself. The part that isn’t an unshakable force.

His eyes meet mine, full of an unfamiliar vulnerability.

I stare at him for a beat, unsure of how to respond, because I wasn’t prepared forthisside of him. This man who’s been so guarded, so reserved in everything we’ve talked about. Now, suddenly, I feel like I’m seeing the real person underneath.

“You know,” I say, setting down my fork, “for someone who acts like he has all the answers, you’re actually just as clueless as the rest of us.”

Hayes snorts. “That’s supposed to be comforting?”

“A little.”

He shakes his head, but there’s something almost amused in his expression. Charles watches us like we’re an experiment he’s observing, sipping his wine in silence.

Then, just as the mood threatens to get too heavy, somethingveryunfortunate happens.

Hayes reaches for his glass of water at the exact moment I shift my plate, and in a ridiculous chain reaction, the entire glass tips over—spilling straight into his lap.

For a beat, there’s silence.

Then Charles, in the most unhelpful way possible, says, “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Hayes jerks back, shaking ice water off his linen pants. “Geez, Frankie.”

“I—oh my gosh,” I sputter, slapping a napkin against his thigh in pure panic. “I didn’t—”

“Stophelping,” Hayes groans, snatching the napkin from me and dabbing at himself.

Charles, completely unbothered, watches this unfold like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all week. “This is wonderful. I’m so glad I invited you, Hayes.”

And just like that, the whole night shifts. I start laughing—actual,genuinelaughter—and before I know it, Charles joins in, and then, after a moment of reluctant defeat, Hayes lets out a deep chuckle too.

The three of us sit there, the tension from earlier dissolving into easy laughter, and for the first time all night, I don’t feel out of place on this ridiculous yacht.

I just feel ... like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Which is probably crazy, but it’s the truth.

Chapter Twenty

Roll with the Punches

Hayes

In the morning, I’m halfway through with my workout when Francesca wanders onto the sundeck in floral pajama pants. She notices me and stops in her tracks, her forehead creasing.

“I thought you weren’t coming with us.” Her fingers curl around her coffee mug, and she watches me stretch on the yoga mat.

We departed this morning and are now heading along the coast.

“It’s just to Monaco. We’ll be there in a little while.”

She shrugs, feigning indifference.

I finish the set of push-ups and move on to burpees. “You could join me, you know?”

She snorts. “I pulled a muscle justwatchingyou.”

She’s settled into one of the plush armchairs, and she does seem to be watching me, her eyes lingering over my form.

“How’s Greta doing today?” she asks, bringing the coffee to her lips.