Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
His movements were deliberate. Every thrust was deep, every kiss was slow, and his hands roamed over me like he had all the time in the world.
He had whispered in my ear - filthy words, soft confessions, promises of what he'd do to me next time.
“You love being full of me, don’t you, Poppy?” he’d murmured as he fucked me, and I had whimpered desperately, my nails digging into his forearms as he angled his hips just right.
"So fucking perfect," he had growled.
And when we had both finally come undone - my body essentially boneless in his hold - his arms had wrapped around me from behind, anchoring me to him as we stood under the stream of hot water, catching our breath.
He had pressed a slow kiss to my temple, his lips lingering just long enough to make my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with lust.
And that had scared me more than anything else.
Now, as I step into my suite - my very lovely, very expensive suite, which suddenly feels tiny compared to his - I realise that I miss him already.
Which is stupid.
I shake the thought away and barely get my bearings before a high-pitched squeal erupts from the bed.
“Oh my god - she lives,” Emma exclaims, launching herself at me the moment I walk in.
Jas follows, smirking as she leans against the couch. “Well, well. Someone’s been busy.”
I scoff, playfully shoving Emma off me, but she’s already grabbing my wrist, her eyes locking onto the Cartier bracelet still gleaming on my skin.
“Look at this!” she gasps, spinning my arm to admire it from every angle. “Fucking hell. I cannot believe you kept this from us!”
“Damn,” Jas whistles. “That is not just any bracelet.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I move further into the suite, placing my bags down.
“It’s really not that big of a -”
Emma gasps dramatically, cutting me off.
“Not that big of a deal? Not that big of a deal?! Babe, that man is wooing you. You know that, right?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”
Jas grins. “No, but she’s right. This isn’t just a one-night-stand Cartier situation. This is a ‘he wants you as his’ Cartier situation.”
“How do you know the difference?” I ask, feigning curiosity.
Emma ignores my question entirely. “Well, who is it?” she asks. “Who are you choosing as maid of honor at your wedding?”
I groan, flopping onto the couch and sitting myself down next to Jas. “Emma, please, stop. I barely know him!”
“Yet here you are, dripping in Cartier, fresh from his suite, looking like you’ve been thoroughly fucked.”
I glare at her, and Jas snorts.
“Well?” Emma says, placing her hands on her hips as she blinks down at me. “Am I wrong?”
“Oh, babe - you’re already his,” Jas comments. “You just don't know it yet.”
I roll my eyes, but the words hit a little too close to home.
Because the truth is, I do know it.
I just don’t know what to do with that knowledge.
Clearing my throat, I straighten up. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you both.”
Emma and Jas exchange a look, and I take a breath, exhaling slowly.
“Frederic… let something slip last night. Something about Jacques.”
Jas’s brows knit together. “Jacques? What about him?”
I hesitate for a moment.
“He’s been lying.”
Emma frowns. “Lying about what?”
“About the house,” I say, glancing between them. “About… about the yacht. About pretty much everything.”
Jas blinks, clearly trying to process. “Wait. What do you mean?”
I press my lips together, then sigh.
“The house we went to for that first party? It wasn’t his. It’s Frederic’s family home.”
Emma’s jaw drops. “No fucking way.”
I nod. “And the yacht? It wasn’t just some ‘connection of Jacques’. It’s Frederic’s.”
Jas leans back, exhaling. “Holy shit.”
Emma looks like she’s having a full-on existential crisis.
“But - wait. This doesn’t… Leah’s been staying there. At the house. At Jacques’ house.”
I roll my lips together, unsure of what to say.
“I just… I don’t know much about it. I didn’t want to prod too much or react in front of Frederic. I was in shock, and I didn’t know what he’d think, or how much he knows, and I just… Yeah. I don’t know,” I sigh. “What I do know is that the house isn’t his.”
Silence passes between us all for a long moment as the girls process my words.
Jas is the one to finally break it, letting out a long, low whistle.
“Leah’s going to lose it.”
Emma nods, then pauses, frowning.
“But Jacques must have some money, right? How else is he affording all these extravagant gifts?”
She gestures towards the handbag of Leah’s that I had taken out with me last night, and Jas tilts her head, considering.
“He must have something, surely. I mean, you can’t just fake wealth to this level, can you?” she asks. “He’s buying Leah all these designer gifts, taking her out to the best restaurants, getting us into places that don’t even take reservations - he has to have money.”