Beautiful Bitch (Beautiful Bastard, #1.5)

With a resigned sigh he asked, “So what now?” I heard the sound of a door opening and closing, the tinkle of soft music in the background.

“We wait.” I sighed. “I’ll get a room, maybe get some work done. Maybe I can check out those apartments while I’m here. And then I promise, the first available flight out of here? I’m on it. Even if I have to take out a few businessmen with the heel of my shoe—I’ll get there.”

“You bet your ass you will,” he said.

I shook my head to clear it from the sound of his commanding voice. “So tell me about the house. Is it as gorgeous as I imagine?”

“Better. I mean, your company would obviously improve it, but damn. Max really outdid himself on this one.”

“Well, try and enjoy it. Sit in the sun, swim, read something trashy. Walk around barefoot.”

“Walk around barefoot? That’s an unusual request, even for you.”

“Humor me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I grinned. “Damn, I think I like this side of you. Pretty sexy when you take orders, Ryan.”

He laughed softly into the phone. “Oh, and Chloe?”

“Hmm?”

“I hope you didn’t pack any panties. You won’t be needing them.”



I spent the rest of the day at the airport, praying for a miracle or a flight to France. I got neither.

It took hours to locate my luggage, so by the time I finally walked through the door of my hotel room, I was ready to pass out. With the time difference it was too late, or too early, to call Bennett, so I’d sent him a short text while I ran myself a bath and ordered a bottle of wine, along with anything containing chocolate, from the room service menu.

I’d just climbed into the large tub—wineglass and chocolate cheesecake balanced precariously on the edge—when my phone rang. My hand fumbled around on the tile floor until I found it, and a smile filled me when Bennett’s face lit up the screen.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” I said.

“Bed’s too big.”

I smiled at his sleepy voice. This was the Bennett who would roll over in the middle of the night, limbs warm and heavy, sweet words mumbled into my skin. He’d always been so much better at all of this than I had, even from the beginning.

“What are you doing?” he asked, bringing my attention back to the phone.

“Bubble bath,” I said, and grinned at the sound of his groan on the other end of the line.

“No fair.”

“What about you?”

“Just going over some paperwork.”

“Did you find my note?

“Note?”

“I left you something.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hmm. Check your laptop bag.”

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 . . . fuck. 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 fucking terrifying.

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