Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I sat at the table at BO&MIE, a café that had café crème and raspberry croissants, my favorite. I was upstairs near the window, reading my book while I sipped my coffee. I normally went in the morning when it was quiet, but I’d come around lunchtime today and it was louder than usual with all the people, so I had my earphones in while I read.
The chair across from me was pulled out, and someone put down their tray of food, baked rigatoni and a croque monsieur sandwich.
I assumed it was some jerk who had come to make a pass, but my eyes lifted and locked on the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
He smiled at my surprise as he sat across from me, his tray holding enough food for two people, maybe even three. “Mind if I join you, sweetheart?”
I paused the music in my earphones and closed my book. “How did you know I was here?”
“I track your phone.”
“Oh…” I didn’t know that.
He grabbed his fork and started to eat his pasta. He seemed to pick up on my disapproval because he said, “It’s a two-way street. You can see where I am whenever you want.”
“I can?”
He took my phone from the surface of the table and tapped his name in my contacts. The map popped up, showing both of our dots in the same spot. “If you’re ever worried about me.” He returned the phone to the table. “Want any of this?”
It did look good, fresh pasta drenched in sauce with the cheese baked on top. “Sure.”
He scooped half of it onto the little place that held his croissant and slid it toward me. “I ordered cheesecake too, but the prick forgot to give it to me.” He gave me his fork and left to retrieve another one.
His sandwich looked good too, so I cut that in half and crammed it onto my plate.
When he came back, he handed me the fork then smirked when he realized I’d taken some of his sandwich too. “Attagirl.”
He was the only man in the world who encouraged me to eat. If I started to gain some weight when I was with Adrien, he would make little comments to indicate he noticed, like asking me to make salads and soups for dinner, things that didn’t have carbs. He thought he was being clever, but he was just an idiot.
That experience had made me strict with my diet. I ate whatever I wanted, but I always kept it under a calorie limit. I usually had a coffee and croissant for breakfast then skipped lunch and had a big dinner with Bastien before he went to work.
“Why are you awake?” I asked.
“I’m off tonight, so I just took a nap.”
“You are?” I asked a little too enthusiastically.
He smirked. “I’m all yours, sweetheart.”
“Ooh…what should we do?”
“I don’t care as long as you’re naked.”
I smiled and nearly rolled my eyes, but instead, I speared a piece of pasta with my fork and popped that into my mouth.
“You must like this place. You’re here nearly three times a week.”
That meant he watched me on his phone often. “I love their raspberry croissants.”
He smirked and continued to eat.
“What?”
“Those are my mom’s favorite too.”
“Well, she has good taste.”
“Guess so.” He continued to eat, inhaling his food like usual, arms on the table as he towered over his meal. “We have a wedding this Saturday. Totally slipped my mind until Luca reminded me.”
“We, as in you and me?”
“Did you think I was going to take Gerard?”
The chuckle escaped uncontrollably. “I’d love to see that.”
“He’s not my type.”
“He does all your cooking and cleaning and laundry, so he better be your type.”
His smile could win awards. “You’ve got me there.” He grabbed his sandwich and took a big bite, a manly bite. He chewed as he stared at me across the table then glanced at the book I’d been reading. “The Chateau. Any good?”
“I like it. It’s about these two sisters who get trafficked working in a labor camp, and while the older sister is there, she falls in love with one of the guards…who ends up being more than a guard—and that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
He gave a slow nod. “That does sound good. You like romance?”
“I read everything. I just finished Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.”
“I didn’t know you liked to read so much.” He continued to eat, but his eyes were glued to my face like he was truly enraptured by my words. He wasn’t half listening, but actually invested in what I had to say.
“I used to want to be a literature professor.”
“What changed?”
“Well, I got married, and that dream kinda just died…”
“You still have time—if that’s what you want to do.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to work?”
“I said I don’t want you to work for money,” he said. “Working for passion is very different.”