Page 53 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I shake my head, grabbing the detergent. “Okay, first, you don’t need half the bottle.” I pour in a reasonable amount before showing him the settings. “And you want cold water for darks, hot for whites—”

“Why?”

I blink at him. “Why ... what?”

“Why cold for darks and hot for whites?”

I open my mouth, then close it. “... Because that’s the rule.”

He smirks again, like he’s caught me in some kind of trap. “So you don’t actually know.”

I shove his arm playfully. “Shut up and push the button.”

He obliges, pressing Start. The machine rumbles to life, and he leans against the counter, watching me with something new in his eyes. Something warm.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice lower, quieter.

It sends a flicker of heat up my spine. This is ... different. We’re different.

I roll my eyes, desperate to steer us back into familiar waters. “You’re welcome, Your Highness. Next time, I’ll teach you about dishwashers.”

His gaze flicks to my mouth, just for a second. “Looking forward to it.”

Andthatis when I decide I need to leave this tiny, too-close space before I start thinking about how cute he looks all ruffled and helpless.

Because that would be dangerous. And very stupid.

Charles and I spend the day on the sundeck enjoying the fresh air and gorgeous views of the blue Mediterranean Sea that stretch on forever. We playWordle, swap stories about our most cringeworthy dates.

Mine was a tie—first there was the guy who brought his mom, and then another time, I got food poisoning mid-dinner. Charles, on the other hand, once had a date that was tooperfect—planned down to the last second—and it completely freaked him out. I could see that. He’d been on his own for so long; having someone new dictate every minute would be a challenge for him. Then we ate an early dinner and watchedJeopardy!

All in all, it was a pretty great day. As I sit here, watching his eyelids grow heavy, I can’t help but wonder.

Is this what it would have been like to have a dad? Someone to eat dinner with and bicker over meaningless trivia? Someone to play Scrabble with? Who would fall asleep in his armchair by roughly 7:34 each night?

I don’t hate it.

There’s something predictable and kind of soothing about it.

Later, when I head below deck to do my own laundry, I find a pair of black boxer briefs that appear to have been left behind. I grab themand freeze, running my fingers over the silky material. Whoa. What even is this material? I’ve never felt anything as soft and buttery before. Is this modal? I never knew what modal was. Maybe this is it.

“Can I help you?” Hayes asks from behind me.

I turn, still clutching his underwear in my hands. I thrust them at him. “I found these in the dryer.”

“Thanks.”

I blush like crazy but muster a smile.Act normal.Hard to do when I saw him naked earlier and now fondled his underwear. Classic, Frankie! “You want to join me for a glass of wine in the main salon?” I blurt. I’m nothing if not smooth.

He looks almost bashful, and I’m confused for a second before he admits, “I actually have a date tonight.”

A date?

We arrived in Monaco all of two hours ago. Of course he does.

“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “Have fun.”

I should be asleep.