Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
So why, dammit?
Why was she still not over her crush on him?
Camelia waved at Poppy with feigned warmth. "Over here, darling." She watched the girl walk toward them with a fake smile. So pathetic. Not only was the idiot bad at hiding her infatuation, but the girl was also incapable of masking her pain.
"You can set up over there." Camelia pointed to the poolside cabana she had reserved for their use. She turned to Valerian and nearly grimaced at the steely expression on his face. Ugh. He was obviously bothered by how the girl felt about him. She had such high hopes for Valerian when she first went to bed with him. She had thought his conscience would eventually die a quick death, but even after all these years, he was still so tediously honorable.
Camelia cupped the billionaire's chin and guided his gaze back to her. "We have work to do, remember? Now is not the time to be bothered by your vilain petit canard."
The words translated to 'ugly little duckling' in French, and Camelia rolled her eyes when she saw how the term had anger flashing in the billionaire's eyes.
"Will you just chill? You know I was simply joking—-"
"I do not take kindly to anyone disrespecting my staff," Valerian snapped in French.
Camelia threw her arms around the billionaire. "I get it, I get it, and I'm sorry, okay?" She raised herself on her toes and showered his face with kisses. Public displays of affection had never been her thing (or Valerian's for that matter), but it was just so enjoyable, doing these things now that they resulted in someone else's pain.
The upstart little bitch had it coming, Camelia thought, for even daring to want a man who was completely out of her league.
Valerian's mood turned brooding as Camelia left his side to resume entertaining their guests. His board members had been rather whiny of late, and tonight's party was Camelia's idea of making them feel "valued".
Please stop pissing them off, mon amour. None of them has the guts to vote you out, but that can easily change if you push them too far.
Camelia had always worked hard to smooth things over for him. Neither had she ever been the type to complain about the number of hours he spent working. She was also dynamite in bed, and she could've been perfect if not for her cruel disregard for anyone whose bank account was below seven figures.
A leopard didn't change his spots overnight, sure, but in his girlfriend's case, there were times when she actually seemed to relish the hurt she inflicted on others. What the hell was so great about being a snob?
Camelia's insulting words were still in his mind when he joined Poppy in the cabana, and the way she avoided his gaze only made him feel worse. She was still obviously hurt after seeing him lock lips with his girlfriend, but to acknowledge this would only make things worse.
Valerian tried to think of something to say, but he remained clueless as fuck even by the time Poppy finished trimming his hair.
"All done, Mr. Rossfield. Do you need anything else?"
He turned to her as he stood up, and his jaw clenched when he saw the tears that glistened in her gaze.
"No, nothing." He was not a kind man, but for her, and only in this instance, he wanted to be so. And unfortunately, the only acceptable way for him to be kind was to feign indifference. "You're free to go."
Valerian remained in the cabana even when Poppy was long gone. Camelia tried to coax him into joining her for a swim, but his flat refusal had her storming away in a rage.
How can you still be so fucking mad about a stupid joke? She's nobody, for fuck's sake!
Her callousness was starting to turn him off, and just when Valerian didn't think the evening could get any worse—-
It did.
Chapter Seven
POPPY'S THOUGHTS WERE a mess. She had been working on autopilot since leaving the hotel. She couldn't even make herself eat. All she could think about was what the billionaire's girlfriend had called her.
An ugly little duckling.
Camelia obviously hadn't counted Poppy on being fluent in French. If she had, then she wouldn't have called Poppy that.
Right?
But since Poppy did understand French, she had heard what she heard, and now there was no going back from it.
Poppy: I'm so sorry. I know it's terribly late, but can I talk to you?
Heather texted her back in a moment, and it was with a mixture of relief and despair that Poppy took a cab to the address Heather provided.
Wow.
Poppy was momentarily distracted by the sheer opulence of Heather's apartment building, which resembled magnificent cathedrals of old...only this one was thirty stories tall, minimum.
"I'm sorry I had you come here," Heather apologized as soon as she answered the door. "I couldn't leave since I'm on babysitting duty tonight."