The Arrogant Artist : A Billionaire Boss Romance (International Bad Boys Set Book 2), стр. 58
“I know, but this is tricky.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “Of all the women you could have hired as my assistant.”
“Sounds like fate had some plans for you both.”
Maybe’s he’s right.
If Emily had one day come and found her mother, we would have eventually met. Would we have fallen for each other then? I probably would have been in a better place and not been as mean as I was to her when we first met. But I think I’d have pursued her if we were introduced because she has that effect on me, and it was immediate when I met Emily.
Daniel and I stayed in for the night while the girls went out. I wanted to be sober just in case Emily needed me, so I could be there for her. We watched some football and caught up on some business.
“Ava couldn’t keep her eyes off you,” I press, taking a sip of my beer.
Daniel doesn’t say anything. I take a glance over, and he’s refusing to look at me.
“You didn’t?”
“Of course not. That’s Emily’s friend.”
I eye my brother suspiciously. “And if she wasn’t?”
“It doesn’t matter, she is, and that’s the end of it.” My brother is interested but isn’t pursuing her because of Emily.
“She’s beautiful.”
“That she is,” Daniel agrees.
“She seems smitten with you.”
“That she does.” He gives me another curt answer.
“And you got on well last night.”
“That we did.”
Ugh, he’s getting on my nerves.
“Yet?”
“Yet, nothing, Louis.”
I hold up my hand at my brother’s terse words. He’s being very defensive over her. I’m going to ask Emily about it. I bet she knows what’s going on. Girls talk about this kind of stuff, don’t they?
“Don’t fuck her around,” is all I say.
Daniel lets out a frustrated sigh beside me, and we go back to watching some action movie that I have no real interest in.
My cell rings. It rings and rings continuously then stops. It starts again, and I pick it up rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Louis. It’s Emily.”
Those few words get my immediate attention.
35
Emily
“I can’t believe we’re here.” Ava looks around the luxurious nightclub where Louis has organized for us to be seated in a VIP suite.
“I can’t believe this is your life.” Rosie elbows me.
“Um… it’s not my life, it’s Louis’,” I remind them all, but they don’t believe me.
I understand Louis is famous—like you know, in the art world—but I didn’t realize just how famous he was in celebrity circles. His name opens doors. Not that I’d ever use his name because I’m not like that. Louis set up this weekend for my girlfriends and me.
Earlier today, we went shopping, we took selfies in front of the Eiffel Tower, we walked along the Champs Elysées, then Louis organized a private dinner cruise along the Seine for us.
The man is going for boyfriend of the year.
I’d marry the hell out of that man.
No. I’m not supposed to think those kinds of things.
There’s still a tiny little niggle in my mind that what we have has an expiration date, and it’s in a month in New York.
No. Don’t think like that, Emily.
The man is crazy about you. You both love each other. Whatever happens after New York, you will sort it out. Paris is only a train ride from London. I push my doubts from my mind and concentrate on the here and now, not some distant future that may or may not happen because why ruin a perfect evening.
I’m having the best time, dancing with my girlfriends, enjoying the VIP treatment. There’s a group of guys hanging around near our booth in the VIP area. I assume they’re okay as they are in the VIP section and should be okay to mingle with. The girls don’t seem to mind the men’s attention, and I can’t deny my girlfriends the chance to hook up with some hot French guys. I’m a good friend like that. But as the night wears on, I realize I’ve had one too many drinks because my words are becoming slurry.
Maybe I should go home.
Yeah, I should totally go home.
I have a hot French man waiting in bed for me. I pull out my phone and try and text Louis.
Emily: Mess you
I hit send then giggle to myself.
Umm, that doesn’t feel right. Why are my legs wobbly? Stupid French champagne. I sit. Ugh, why am I so sweaty? Ewww, that’s not cute.
I look around at the flashing lights of the VIP area. There are a fair few people up here now, they should really turn up the air conditioning.
“I’m just going to head to the bathroom,” I tell Rosie who’s sitting beside me, talking to some hot guy.
“Want me to come?” she asks.
“No. Stay and lock lips with a hottie.” I wiggle my brows at her.
Rosie hugs me and turns her attention back to the hot guy. I stumble a little bit. Dammit! I’m not used to these ridiculous heels. Who makes heels this high?
I’m thirsty, and my tongue is dry. So, I grab a bottle of water off the bar and start to drink. Why am I still sweating profusely? Actually, I feel clammy, and now my head hurts. I grab my cell and check the time. It’s 1:43 a.m. It’s been a long time since I have partied this hard. Am I getting old?
I notice that Louis has sent me a message.
Louis: Hope you’re having fun tonight. My bed isn’t the same without you.
My heart swoons. God, I love that man. The screen becomes a little fuzzy, so I purposely blink a few times, then force myself to concentrate on writing out a message to him.
Emily: I msk u 2 and yore deck.
There, that was totally a super flirty sexy text message. I put my cell back into my pocket and make my way to the bathroom. Thankfully, they’re empty in the VIP section and clean. Being important is kind of awesome. I trip over my