Page 75 of Enticing My Off Limits Billionaire

Adam is still sleeping, his mouth open as he snores. I nudge him gently, and he wakes up with a start. He looks around, confused for a moment, before remembering where we are.

"Sorry, man," he mumbles, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes. "I didn't keep you up, did I?"

"It's all good," I chuckle. "I think we're getting ready to land."

"Fuck yeah," he says. "Shit...that was a smooth ride. Didn't feel a thing."

I look out the window to see the sun rising over the green landscape, the Alps beyond. It's dawn here in France, so our parents will be waiting to meet us at the airport. I pull out my phone to look for notifications, using the plane's Wi-Fi to check on everything.

There's one text from my parents saying they're sending a car.

Because, of course, they wouldn't welcome us in person.

And there's another text from Madison.

Hope the flight is great, she says.Miss you.

I text her back.

I miss you too. Landed safely, talk soon.

Adam's demeanor changes as we disembark and walk through the fancy airport in Lyon, looking somewhat out of place. He gets quiet, withdrawn...a little shaky. I finally ask him what's wrong when we're outside looking for our private car, and he shrugs.

"Just...mom and dad," he says. "I really fucking hate having to ask them for help."

"You didn't have to," I say. "But they're willing, so...you may as well accept the one goddamn thing they've ever given us."

"It's funny," he says, "I always figured I would get over it at some point. Like I thought I would grow up and stop being a little bitch about my parents abandoning me. But here I am...still pissed."

"Me too," I murmur.

"Really?"

"Really," I breathe. "Just...don't let them get to you, okay? Take their help and use it to get yourself better. For yourself."

"And for you," he says.

I look over at him. "Yeah, I guess for me, too."

He gives me a half-smile, and we finally spot our car, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows, waiting for us at the curb. It's the kind of car that screams 'important,' the kind of car that makes Adam and I look like we belong for once. We get into the backseat, and I notice a chilled bottle of water in the compartment between us.

It's just like my family to think of everything.

All the bells and whistles that broadcast extravagance without actually showing any care or kindness.

Adam takes a long drink before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. He's already tired again, and I know it will be a rough road ahead for him. But he's here and trying—that's what counts. No matter what happens from here on out, I'll be proud of him for that.

We drive for a few hours through the French countryside, winding our way up into the mountains. The scenery is breathtaking, and I can't help but think of how different this is from the concrete jungle of New York. Adam falls asleep again, and I let him rest, watching the mountains go by.

Finally, we pull up to a massive stone building that looks like it's been there for centuries. There's a large courtyard in front, and a sign that simply reads "Le Refuge". I lean forward to talk to the driver, frowning.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"The Refuge—it's a rehab facility," the driver says in heavily accented English. "Mr. and Mrs. Young said to come straight here..."

"They didn't even want to see us?" I demand.

"Quinn, it's fine," Adam mumbles. "I didn't even want to talk to them anyway—"

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