Beautiful Bitch(26)

I heard the creak of leather as he stood, the sound of feet padding across a tile floor followed by laughter. “Chloe,” he said, laughing harder now. “It looks like someone slipped a ransom note in here.”




“Very funny.”

“?‘Three observations about today: I didn’t get everything done on my to-do list, the salad you made me for lunch was delicious, and, most importantly, I love you,’?” he read, and then fell silent as he read the rest of the note to himself. When he finished, he grumbled, “I . . . f*ck. It makes me insane that you aren’t here.”

I closed my eyes. “The universe is conspiring against us.”

“You know, there’s a part of me that wants to say none of this would have happened if you weren’t so stubborn, and would have just come with me in the first place.” I started to protest. “But,” he said, continuing, “your determination is one of the things I love most about you. You never settle. You’d never expect someone to do a job you wouldn’t do yourself. And you wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with if you changed that. It’s exactly what I would have done. As usual. And also a little creepy to realize how alike we are.”

I sat up in the cooling water, bringing my knees to my chest. “Thank you, Bennett. That means a lot to me.”

“Well, I meant it. And you can show me your appreciation when you get that hot little ass to France. Deal?”

I rolled my eyes. “Deal.”



I didn’t get to France the next day. Or the day after that. And by day three I was actually trying to remember why hitching a ride on a boat had seemed like such a bad idea in the first place.

It’s possible I called Bennett more in those three days than in the entirety of our relationship, but it wasn’t enough, and did nothing to ease the hollow ache that had taken up permanent residence inside my chest.

I kept myself busy, but there was no denying I was homesick. I wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but at some point, Bennett had become it for me. As in it it. The One.

And it was f*cking terrifying.

I’d come to this realization while out for a walk. My assistant had called, saying she’d been able to get me on an Air France flight later that night. My first thought had been of Bennett, and how I couldn’t wait to tell him I was on my way. I’d nearly sprinted to my hotel room.

But then I’d stopped, heart racing and lungs on fire. When had this happened, when had he become my everything? And I wondered, was it possible he was trying to tell me he felt the same way? I packed in a daze, throwing clothes aimlessly into my bag and collecting my things around the room. I thought back on how much he’d changed in the last year. The quiet moments at night, the way he looked at me sometimes as if I were the only woman on the planet. I wanted to be with him—always. And not just in the same apartment or bed, but for good.

It was then that I was struck by an idea so crazy, so insane, that I literally burst out laughing. I’d never been the type of woman to sit back and wait for the things I wanted to appear, so why should this be any different? And that was it.

Bennett Ryan had no idea what was about to hit him.





EIGHT


As impossible as it seemed, I was bored out of my f*cking mind in this beautiful, enormous French villa. The place required no cleaning or handyman work, my VPN connection was so slow I couldn’t get on the RMG server to conduct actual business, and—perhaps most strangely—I felt like there were certain things I shouldn’t do until Chloe got here.

It felt wrong to dive into the infinity pool knowing she was stuck in New York. I didn’t want to walk through the vineyards bordering the house, because it seemed like something we should discover at the same time. Max’s housekeeper had put out some bottles of wine for us to enjoy, but surely only a giant * would drink them alone. My claim to this house was hers, too. I’d still only opened one bedroom door, and slept there, not wanting to go through our options until she’d arrived. Together we would pick out where we would spend our nights.

Of course, if I said any of this to her she would laugh at me and tell me I was being dramatic. But that’s why I wanted her here. Something monumental happened to me the other day when I used the bat signal, and that sense of urgency hadn’t diminished, and probably wouldn’t until she was here and had heard what I had to say.

I walked through the gardens, stared out at the ocean in the distance, and checked my phone again, reading Chloe’s most recent text for the hundredth time: