Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I glance out again, stunned by the sparkling sea framed between ultra-modern buildings. “Well, it can’t be all that bad if it has a beach. I want to go sit in the sand and pretend I belong here.”
“You do,” he says simply, and I don’t know if he’s talking about Monaco… or something more.
Reid pulls in front of a clean-lined structure with expansive glass windows. A valet greets us as we exit and Reid hands him money, saying something in French.
I’m stunned he speaks the language and I ask him about it as he leads me inside, his hand on my elbow.
Reid laughs. “I know just enough to get by, but I can’t carry on a long conversation. Don’t worry, English is common enough here.”
Reid’s apartment is a study in understated opulence. I practically have to pick my jaw up off the floor when we walk in. Marble floors, minimalist décor and floor-to-ceiling windows offering an uninterrupted view of the sea. His furniture though is plush, covered in a soft white material I’ve never felt before. It looks like you could sink into it and never get out.
The living area flows seamlessly into a state-of-the-art kitchen, and a grand piano sits in the corner, hinting at a side of Reid I hadn’t known.
“You don’t play the piano,” I say, confident in that assessment.
“No, but it came with the place when I bought it. Makes me look more sophisticated than I am.”
I snort in amusement, trailing a finger across the granite countertop as I ponder this wealth that is part of Reid’s life.
“This is… incredible,” I breathe. “But… it’s shocking. I know you so well, and while I know in my mind that you make an ungodly amount of money, the fact that this is your lifestyle now is a bit hard to wrap my brain around.”
Reid leans an elbow on the counter. “I’m still the same me.” He watches me for a beat, then adds, “The views are phenomenal, and everything here is very expensive. But I still eat too much cereal and forget to buy new socks until I’m down to the ones with holes.”
I laugh softly, but the feeling doesn’t quite reach all the way through me. I wander to the window through which the Mediterranean glimmers like it’s been staged for effect.
“You say you’re still the same,” I murmur, “but everything about this world is… different. Big. Intimidating, even.”
He steps up behind me, not quite touching. “It’s just life. Mine happened to go in this direction because I was good at something and lucky enough to make it work. But I still think about the same stuff. Still worry about my parents. Still get nervous before a race. Still crave fish-and-chips from that dodgy place near Bells Beach.”
I smile faintly, then turn to face him. “I guess I don’t know what it means for me… being here. In this.”
Reid studies me. “It doesn’t have to mean anything yet. You’re here for a few days. You’ll get a taste of it. If it’s still foreign after that, we’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t want to feel like I don’t belong,” I admit, the words escaping before I can edit them.
His expression softens. “Lara… you’ve always belonged. With me. Doesn’t matter what the backdrop is.”
It’s a beautiful sentiment, one that sits somewhere between comfort and pressure. I nod slowly, knowing I need to let myself experience this before I decide how I draw any conclusions. For now, I’ll breathe it in—the sun-warmed balcony, the sound of the sea outside, and the man who somehow fits both the beach and the penthouse.
At least for the next few days… this is our world.
Reid closes the small space between us. His hand slides around the back of my neck, his touch so gentle it makes my breath hitch.
“I mean it,” he says. “You belong.”
I nod, but before I can respond, his lips brush mine—light at first, almost questioning. When I respond, deepening the kiss, he answers without hesitation. His hands come to my waist, anchoring me as he draws me closer, and it washes over me all at once—need and comfort, the wild rush of desire mixing with something softer and more dangerous. Something that resembles the start of true love.
The kiss turns hotter and I melt into him. The world narrows to the taste of his mouth and the steady heat of his hands as they slide to my hips. When he lifts the hem of my top, his fingers graze my skin, sending a shiver up my spine.
He walks me backward toward the plush white couch, his lips never leaving mine, and I go willingly, my heart pounding for a thousand reasons. The quiet ache of wanting, yes—but also something warmer that’s taken root and is starting to grow bigger than either of us.