The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2) - Page 47

An hour later I sit forward and turn the tap off once more. I fill the bath up, let it cool down, let some water out, and repeat the process. My mind is ticking at a million miles per minute.

Tristan is a soul-sucking bastard who left without even a goodbye.

But then . . . he sent roses.

But I don’t want roses, because that’s not who we are . . . but maybe he was just being nice because he couldn’t say goodbye properly?

He’s a bastard . . . but he’s a fun bastard. Or maybe that was just an act, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

Oh God, I’m so confused.

If I go to Paris, I’m guaranteed laughter and fun.

If I don’t go, there’s no chance of me getting attached to him.

He’s a player. He probably has ten girlfriends. He is not the kind of man you get attached to.

But he’s so fun.

Over the last two nights we have laughed and laughed, and it felt good, even if I knew it was only temporary—just in that moment, it felt really good.

There’s absolutely no chance of a future or anything; I already know that. We’re from two different worlds.

Am I okay to spend a weekend with someone knowing that? I think on it for a moment.

I’ve had enough heartache. Maybe it’s time to throw caution to the wind. Maybe it’s time to just . . . no, it’s just safer not to go. I mean, what’s the point?

Why prolong what was only a one-night thing? We already extended it to two nights. That’s enough.

My phone rings, and the name Tristan lights up the screen. Oh fuck.

I close my eyes and answer. “Hello.”

“Anderson.”

A broad smile crosses my face just at the sound of his voice. “What do you want?” I tease.

He chuckles. “I’m calling to see if you got my gift in your room.”

“Oh.” I smirk. “I haven’t; I’m in Nelson’s room.”

“What the fuck? You better not be.” It’s loud where he is, like a bar or something.

I giggle. “They’re lovely.”

“So?” he asks.

“So what?”

“Come to Paris. Spend the weekend with me.”

I stay silent.

“It’s one of my favorite cities. I can show you around. We can go sightseeing.”

“I thought you were working?”

“Only tomorrow morning.” I hear ice tumble into a glass.

Tags: T.L. Swan The Miles High Club Romance
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