Arrogant Playboy (The Art of Love Series Book 2), page 1
ARROGANT PLAYBOY
BOOK 2 - THE ART OF LOVE
JA LOW
Copyright @ 2024 JA Low
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Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover Design: Simply Defined Art
Editor: More than words
Photographer: Wander Aguiar - www.wanderbookclub.com
Model: Masson
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
1. Rosie
2. Rosie
3. Daniel
4. Rosie
5. Rosie
6. Daniel
7. Daniel
8. Rosie
9. Rosie
10. Rosie
11. Daniel
12. Daniel
13. Daniel
14. Rosie
15. Rosie
16. Daniel
17. Rosie
18. Daniel
19. Rosie
20. Rosie
21. Daniel
22. Rosie
23. Daniel
24. Daniel
25. Daniel
26. Daniel
27. Rosie
28. Daniel
29. Daniel
30. Rosie
31. Rosie
32. Rosie
33. Daniel
34. Rosie
35. Daniel
36. Rosie
37. Daniel
38. Rosie
39. Daniel
40. Rosie
41. Daniel
42. Rosie
43. Daniel
44. Daniel
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Author
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
1
ROSIE
My friends told me I need to stop working so hard. That I need to get laid and have more fun in my life. And they’re right. I’ve devoted every moment to my career, which I love, and let everything else slide, namely relationships. Not that I’ve had a great run in relationships—every single man I’ve dated has turned out to be a cheater, a liar, or both. It’s not in my nature to have one-night stands. I like the security of a relationship. Security? When they end up letting you down or you spend the entire relationship walking on eggshells because their egos are fragile. Ugh. It sucks that I have my parents’ perfect marriage in my mind when I date. They were childhood sweethearts and after all these years, they still love each other fiercely. Ava says, “Sex is just sex. It should be fun, hot, and passionate.”
If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced that before. Is what I had with my exes any of those things? No. I chose who I thought was safe, I was wrong.
I knew the moment I saw that dark-haired Adonis walk into the party with the swagger of an arrogant playboy, he was going to be the one to cure me. Fast forward a couple of hours and that’s how I’ve ended up bent over a stone table getting railed by said Adonis. Don’t ask me how I got here. I know there were tequila shots shared around, and then he opened his mouth and out came a French accent, and let’s be serious, there was nothing else that needed to be said. To be fair, I had some competition in the way of Silicon Valley twins, but Au Natural won out probably because I was able to hold a conversation. Who needs conversation now? Not me, not when his fingers are gripping my hips and my skirt is pushed up around my middle as he thrusts into me. Honestly, I can’t believe this is happening.
“Oui, je vais te baiser.” (Yes, I’m going to fuck you) He grunts.
He is saying things in French to me. I’m hoping they are dirty, but it could be his shopping list for all I know. However, it sounds sexy, and that is all my lady-bits care about as he growls whatever it is he is saying and continues to rail me like an animal. Thinking back, I don’t think any man has taken me so wildly like he is behind some bushes, in the middle of a party. Anyone could find us, but they would have to walk past the lake, turn right, head toward the tennis courts, and then we would be visible. But I don’t care in this moment, all I can think about is how this man is making my entire body quake as it tries to find its release. Who knew one-night stands could feel so good? Not me. I think I’ve been missing out or I’ve been hooking up with the wrong kind of men. There are worse ways to spend an evening and it is usually me curled up, party of one, with a bottle of wine, packet of crisps, and house makeover shows, not having earth-shattering orgasms one after the other.
“Well, thanks for that,” I say, tiding myself up. He stares at me with his brows pulled together as he tucks that gorgeous dick back into his pants. Now that the tequila fog has lifted, and the cold, harsh ray of moonlight is upon me, the confident Rosie that picked up this man has vanished, and now it’s just me. I turn on my heel and start to walk away.
“Wait a minute,” he says, calling after me and catching up to where I’m walking. I thought that was the point of these encounters, you do the deed and continue into the night. “You’re going to just walk away?” he asks.
I stop and look up at him. “Did I do something wrong? You’re my first one-night stand and I … I don’t know how these things go.”
The gorgeous man’s mouth turns up in a wide smile. “I’m your first one-night stand?”
My cheeks suddenly bloom pink at hearing his question. “Yes.”
“You are something,” he says, reaching out and cupping my face. What does he mean? “If I’d known that, I would have given you all my tricks.” He grins.
“You mean that wasn’t all of them?” The question is out of my mouth before I have a chance to realize it wasn’t inside my head.
He laughs gently. “I have so many more tricks.” I raise my brow, the way he states that confidently has my body tingling. “And I was hoping you would allow me to use them on you.”
Oh.
“Come home with me,” he asks. My heart thunders in my chest, I wasn’t expecting that.
“I thought this was like a one-and-done kind of deal.”
“You can walk away from me in the morning if you want, but I want to see how much you let go in my bed,” he whispers to me.
Oh.
I swallow hard because that is quite the declaration there.
“Why are you even thinking twice about this, Rosie? Go, have fun with this man, and keep having the best sex of your life.” Ava’s voice echoes in my mind.
I bite my bottom lip and contemplate his request. He could be a serial killer. All my crime documentaries say not to let them take you to a second location.
“I’ve got to go.” Like a coward, I turn on my heel and run.
“I can’t believe you did it.” Georgia squeals at our Monday night catch-up dinner. I leave out the bit where I ran because I know what they will say.
“Me either.” I chuckle.
“I’m so proud,” Ava says, holding up her glass of champagne toward me.
“Maybe I picked a good one. It was the best sex of my life. The things I let that man do to me behind a bush.” I giggle.
“Look at you, you’re still glowing.” Ava smirks.
“I’m so jealous, I need to find someone that makes me blush days after.” Georgia moans.
“I got lucky.”
“Did you swap numbers or anything?” Ava asks.
I shake my head. “No, it was a one-night stand.”
“But if you had fun?” Georgia asks.
“Yes, but in the cold light of day, I’m not sure if I’d be the same woman as I was under the influence of tequila.”
“Tequila will do that.” Ava smirks.
“Have you guys heard from Emily?”
“Yes. The girl is in Ibiza, in love with her boss, and is painting again,” Ava answers.
She’s what? Painting.
Georgia shakes her head. “How did she go from hating him to falling in love with him?”
“I think they grew closer after what happened in Monaco,” Ava explains.
Emily was asked to accompany her boss to this art gala in Monte Carlo. An incident where her boss’s ex-friend, who his wife ran away with, attacked her. We were so scared for her because it’s not the first time something like this has happened, and it took Emily a long time to heal from that trauma. We’ve been worried that it might set her back, but I guess we now all know the reason why she has been able to cope. Her b oss.
“She’s painting?” I ask. Emily stopped painting when she started dating her ex. He deemed it a hobby, not a career, and put her down, so much so that she just gave up but she’s so talented. We all knew Toby wasn’t the right person for her, but she was in love and couldn’t see it.
“She sounded happy, happier than she has been in years,” Ava says. This is fantastic, Toby sucked the confidence from her.
“You don’t think it’s too soon?” Georgia asks.
“Toby and Emily were done a long time ago, way before they broke up. If he didn’t get that transfer to New York, there’s no way Emily would have left. He would have kept cheating on her and she’d be none the wiser. He would have eventually proposed, and she would have thought it was the best thing in the world, but there’s no way Toby would have stopped having his cake once he married. So even though Emily’s heart was broken because of his betrayal, I think it was for the best. She would never have gone to France if that idiot hadn’t deemed her not good enough for him. Now she is hooking up with a hot French guy who happens to be one of her favorite artists. Even if this is a summer fling, the confident, art-loving Emily we used to know is back.”
The four of us have known each other since kindergarten, growing up in a small fishing village on the coast. We all knew that the village was too small for the lives we all wanted to live. So, we worked our asses off to save and get into the college of our dreams in London, and we did it. I’m an interior designer, Ava works in PR, Georgia in social media, and Emily, unfortunately couldn’t get anywhere with her Art History degree, but maybe now things are looking up for her.
“Did you get that text message from Louis’ brother asking about us coming over and surprising her?” Georgia says.
“Yes, we need to work out what weekend we are all free,” I add.
“As if I’m saying no to a weekend in France. Maybe I can nab myself a hot artist.” She giggles.
“Maybe we all can,” Georgia says as we all fall into fits of laughter.
2
ROSIE
“Rosie, are you free for a moment?” Ivy Starr, my boss and the owner of Starr Designs asks, popping her head into my office. Ivy Starr is goals. She's beautiful, smart, funny, and sweet. She lives in the most dream-like home in Chelsea and has a billionaire fiancé on her arm. She’s won countless interior design awards. I want my life to be like that, in the future.
“Yeah, sure.” I save my work and head over to her office, closing the door behind me and taking a seat. I hope I’m not in trouble.
“No need to look worried. I wanted to see how your afternoon was looking and if you had any meetings with clients,” she asks.
“Nothing today.”
Ivy smiles. “Perfect. I have to go down to the DuPont Gallery to pick out some art for the Ayad Belgravia project and I thought you’d like to choose it.”
What? No. I stare at her in shock. “I would love that, thank you.”
“I see all the hard work you’ve been putting in around the office. The early mornings and the late nights. Just remember, work-life balance though.” She points at me with a smile. I nod. “The glowing reviews we’ve been receiving from your clients are impressive. And I want to say that I’m so proud of you and your team.”
“It’s been a great team effort.” If the girls I work with weren’t so good at their jobs, we wouldn’t be getting the projects we have been getting lately. I’m not going to take all the credit.
“The girls have thrived since joining your team, and I’ve watched as you have mentored each one of them. My business wouldn’t be growing like it is if my employees weren’t growing with me. I’m genuinely so very proud of you all.”
“Thank you, that means a lot. My girls work hard delivering our clients their dreams.”
“And you all have been delivering. I want to start bringing you in on the bigger luxury projects, where the budgets have blank cheques.” She grins. Yes, please. “There are some exciting things happening in the future, and I want you to be a part of it.” That sounds exciting. I’m all in. Whatever it is. “The meeting is at one. We might grab a late lunch after, how does that sound?” Ivy asks.
“Sounds good. Let me tie up some loose ends with the team and I should be ready.”
I walk back to my office, excitement bubbling under my skin. Ivy gave us such high praise today and I’m excited to tell the girls.
“How did it go?” Adina, my assistant, asks as she walks into my office after I get back.
“Everything is perfect. Can you round up the troops for a quick meeting?” I ask her. She nods and gathers the rest of the team as I quickly refresh my emails and start going through my schedule, marking what is urgent and what isn’t for today.
Adina comes back in with Josie, Helena, and Beth, my three junior interior designers.
“Thanks, guys, just a quick one. I’m out this afternoon with Ivy, she’s asked me to pull the art for the Ayad project.” The girls murmur with excitement over that. “That means you guys will have to hold down the fort for me for the rest of the afternoon. We’re meeting at the DuPont gallery at one and then she said we’re going to grab a late lunch after, so I might not make it back to the office. I also wanted to let you all know to keep up the good work because Ivy just gave our team a glowing reference for being awesome.” The girls smile and clap at my compliment. “All our hard work together hasn’t gone unnoticed, so I wanted to thank you all because I couldn’t do it without the team.”
“Hell yeah,” Helena says as the other two nod in agreement.
“Let’s keep it up and see how far we can take it.” I grin as I dismiss the girls and finish up my work.
Ivy pops her head in. “Ready?” she asks.
“Yep, all good,” I say, grabbing my coat and bag and heading out of the office toward the town car so we can head to Mayfair.
“What are we looking for today?” I ask Ivy.
“We need entrance, staircase, two sitting rooms, a reception room, two studies, the principal bedroom, five extra bedrooms, and the dining room. They are looking for a more modern London architectural vibe for their villa in Belgravia. They have opted for neutral palettes in the public areas and have chosen snowy owl as the paint color. The art needs to pop on the walls. Their teenage daughter has chosen French Rose on her walls, this gorgeous soft pink, it’s divine, and then has asked for modern floral accents in the room. The younger daughter is the complete opposite and has gone with this rich velvet peacock color, all jewel tones. She wanted a moody bedroom,” she explains.
Nice. My mind is already racing with ideas. Ivy continues explaining what the clients want so I have a good enough idea of what I am looking for and it isn’t long till we are pulling up out the front of DuPont Gallery. There is a wall of glass with an art piece hanging in it. It’s an image of a woman standing on a cliff, her hair windswept as she looks like she is peering over the edge into oblivion. Interesting. I don’t know much about art, but I know my bestie Emily would love it. She would be in her element here, staring at art all day, she’s tried for years to get a job working in an art gallery but has had no luck. It’s all about who you know not what you know. Fingers crossed working the summer for Louis Marchant will help her get a foot in the door in the industry.
Ivy pushes the glass door and enters the gallery, and I follow.
“Miss Starr, it’s lovely to see you again.” A gorgeous dark-haired beauty appears silently out of nowhere, greeting us. I give her a once over as she looks incredibly intimidating, dressed in a black pantsuit, with bright red lips, a pale face, a severe black bob, and a French accent.
“Delphine, nice to see you, too. I’m here to meet with Daniel if he’s around,” Ivy asks, greeting the woman warmly.
“Of course, he’s finishing up with a phone call, he won’t be a moment,” she explains as those jade-green eyes land on me. I watch in slow motion as she looks me up and down assessing me. I think I look cute with my white shirt, navy sweater, caramel skirt that falls to my calves, and heels. My copper red hair is pulled up in a high pony, and my makeup is still on point, I checked in the car.
Ivy must notice and introduces me to Delphine, “This is Rosie Hunt, she’s helping me on the Ayad project.”
