Arrogant Playboy (The Art of Love Series Book 2), page 7
“Why would you think that?”
She shakes her head as the tears continue to stream down her face. “I should have been watching Emily. It’s my fault he took her. Me,” she says, thumping her chest.
My heart breaks for her. “No, this isn’t your fault. Yves is the monster.”
“No. I am. I’m the one who was kissing someone else while that man took her. I let some guy distract me from my friend.”
Her words hit like an arrow to the chest. She was with someone else tonight. It doesn’t matter, not now, not after what Emily has been through.
“This isn’t your fault, Rosie. How could you have known that would happened.” I try to reassure.
“I was trying to forget you,” she whispers.
My heart tightens in my chest. “Rosie,” I say her name softly as I reach out and pull her into my arms, she comes willingly this time. “I understand,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head.
“You should hate me, too,” she says, mumbling into my chest.
“I could never hate you,” I confess. Her arms come out and wrap around me tightly as she breaks down until she collapses.
I pick her up, take her back to a spare room, and tuck her into bed, I kiss the top of her head as she slides into sleep.
When I walk out, Matthieu has his arm around Georgia.
“Rosie is in the end room.”
“Thanks,” Georgia says, pulling herself from my cousin’s arms. We watch in silence as she walks away and closes the door behind her.
“Louis has gone to his room and asked for us to leave him alone. Emily didn’t want to see him.” Fuck. I run my hand through my hair. “How’s Rosie?”
I shake my head. “Not good. And Georgia?”
“Not good.”
It’s been a couple of days since Paris, and I haven’t heard from Rosie, not that I am expecting to as she has a lot going on with Emily staying with her. But I want to be there for her.
Matthieu: They charged Yves with sexual assault.
Daniel: Finally. Thank fuck. Does Louis know?
Matthieu: Yes.
Daniel: How is Louis?
Matthieu: Relieved that they are pressing charges. He’s hanging in there.
Daniel: He hasn’t disappeared into the bottle again.
Matthieu: Not every night.
Daniel: Most nights?
Matthieu: Do you blame him? I can’t get the images out of my mind of what we saw when the door was opened.
Daniel: Neither can I.
Matthieu: I wanted to kill him.
Daniel: I do too.
Matthieu: Just when Louis was finally happy. Why?
Daniel: Because Yves is a sick individual.
Matthieu: How are the girls?
Daniel: Haven’t heard from them, but my security guards tell me they are safe.
Organizing security for Emily was the only way to placate Louis into letting her go back to London.
Matthieu: Good.
Matthieu: Do you think Louis and Emily can ever get back together?
Daniel: I hope so, but I don’t know.
Matthieu: He sends her sunflowers every day.
Daniel: He does?
Matthieu: Louis says it reminds him of her. She was his sunshine.
Daniel: Fuck that’s heartbreaking.
Matthieu: I know.
There’s a knock at my door, I’m not expecting anyone.
Daniel: Have to go, someone’s here. Keep me in the loop.
When I open the door, I’m surprised to see the entire gang there.
“We didn’t think it was good for you to be alone at the moment,” Alex says.
“And we bought cupcakes,” Eloise adds.
“And alcohol,” Jasper says, waving a bottle of scotch in his hands.
These guys. “Guess you better come in then.”
The gang comes in and starts to make themselves at home. Thankfully, they decide to steer the conversations away from Paris, knowing that I might not want to talk about that just yet, and I’m grateful for that.
“I can’t believe Rosie is best friends with Emily. How small is this world?” Ivy states after one too many champagnes.
“Who’s Rosie?” Jasper asks.
“She’s the cute redhead from work?” Lauren asks.
“Yes,” Ivy answers.
“Is that the girl you warned Daniel not to touch a while ago?” Eloise asks.
“Yes.” Ivy nods. I feel like I’m in a ping-pong match between these girls.
“And has he?” Lauren asks.
“What? No,” I answer way too quickly.
All my asshole friends burst out laughing not believing me.
“But he wants to,” Jasper adds, holding up his scotch.
“No, I don’t.”
“She’s cute,” Lauren states.
“Rosie would be kind of perfect for Daniel. And if Emily and Louis get back together you could be a foursome. But she’s my best designer.” Ivy giggles then frowns.
“Don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon,” I say sadly, taking a sip of my scotch.
“Whatever you need, we’ve got you,” Alistair says, getting up and giving my shoulder a squeeze as he walks past.
“Things aren’t good. I’m worried about my brother,” I confess to my friends, the room falling silent.
“It’s an unfortunate situation. You remember Nate and Camryn went through something similar. And, of course, my Ivy with her crazy ex,” Alex adds as he leans over and kisses Ivy’s temple. I remember all those dark days with my friends.
“They are all going to need time,” Ivy says quietly.
“I know.” I nod, sipping my drink.
“It’s not just the people who went through the tragedy that it affected, it’s the people who witnessed it, too. You, your cousin, Rosie and her friends, you all need people around you,” Ivy explains.
“I can’t imagine what pain my brother is going through right now. I just want to fix it for him.”
“Spoken like a true big brother, this time you can’t, you can only be there for him,” Alex says.
“And be there for Rosie, too. I’m not sure when she is coming back to work, but I’ve given her whatever time she needs. I understand Emily is living with her,” Ivy says. I nod. “I’m sure that must be tough. But hang in there.”
“Tonight, I want to forget, can we all get fucked up?” I ask my friends.
“Hell yeah,” Jasper calls out.
12
DANIEL
It’s been a while since we’ve come back from Paris, and I try again to reach out to Rosie.
Daniel: Hey it’s me. How’s Emily?
Rosie: She’s not good. Emily’s suffering from nightmares most nights.
Daniel: What can I do?
Rosie: Turn back time.
Rosie: Nothing.
Daniel: I’d give anything to turn back time.
Daniel: How are you?
Rosie: Doesn’t matter how I am. All that matters is Emily is safe.
Daniel: It matters to me.
Rosie: I’m fine.
Daniel: If you need me, I’m here.
Rosie: K
Daniel: Has Emily been getting Louis’ sunflowers?
Rosie: Yes. But she doesn’t want them. My flat is filling up with them.
Daniel: Louis is heartbroken.
Rosie: As is Emily.
Another week passes.
Ivy: Just so you know, Rosie has made it back to work this morning.
Daniel: How is she?
Ivy: Quiet.
Ivy: How’s her friend?
Daniel: Not good.
Ivy: And Louis?
Daniel: Devastated.
Ivy: Tell Louis she needs time to heal, and unfortunately, there is no timeline for that.
Daniel: Louis blames himself for what happened.
Ivy: It’s not his fault, he needs to know that.
Ivy: I’ll keep an eye on Rosie this week.
Daniel: Thank you.
Rosie: Do you still want to work with me on your Kent project?
Her text message surprises me.
Daniel: Yes, of course. But we have plenty of time to start on that.
Rosie: I need something new to focus on.
Rosie: Please.
Daniel: If you’re sure?
Rosie: I am.
Daniel: When would you like to start?
Rosie: Now.
Daniel: If you are free tonight, come by the gallery, I’m working late. Is that okay?
Rosie: That’s fine. I’ll see you after work.
“I appreciate you popping by the gallery after work,” I say, greeting Rosie warmly with a kiss on the cheek. She’s wearing a white shift dress with a matching jacket, heels, and designer bag, her copper red hair cascading around her shoulders with a pair of sunglasses slid into place atop her head. I notice the dark circles under her eyes and the lifeless color in her face, and I want to pull her into my arms and make it all better for her. I offer her a seat and she takes it. “I’m flat out. We have a new exhibition next week, and the artist is being artistic, but the distraction is good,” I say, giving her a sad smile, which she returns with a nod in understanding. “You should pop by if you have time.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs.
“Do you want a drink or something?” I ask, getting up and moving over to my bar where I pour myself a scotch as the awkwardness settles between us.
“Water thanks.”
I grab a bottle from the mini fridge and hand it to her as I take my seat again. “How’s Emily?” I ask.
“Coping. She’s painting so I guess that is good.” Emily’s painting? Interesting. “Anyway, about your gorgeous home,” she says, steering the conversation back to work.
Two hours later, and after the initial awkwardness as soon as we got talking about my home, the difference in Rosie was noticeable. So much so that when her stomach rumbled and I suggested dinner, she agreed, even more surprising, she let me pop a bottle of wine as we continued to talk about my home. As the house has already been renovated in dark moody tones, which was a reason I purchased it in the first place, we are sticking to that. I then showed her the art I have already hung everywhere, and she sat and listened as I spoke about each piece, writing notes as we talked. She created a Pinterest board for me so we can share ideas and styles that I like. It was nice being able to let my mind think of something other than what was happening between Louis and Emily. A pang of guilt hits me because Louis wishes he could be doing this with Emily.
“I have some great places to start to source furniture and soft furnishings for you. Is there a chance I could head down and see the place? I need to get measurements, see where the lighting hits, the heights of the artwork, and those sorts of things,” she asks.
“Sure. I’d love to show you around,” I say, sipping my wine.
“Great, let me coordinate with my team, and we can set up an inspection,” she says, writing notes into her book. My brows pull together, I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us. “If I haven’t said it tonight, thank you. I needed this, getting out of the flat, making my brain think of something other than that night.” I reach out and give her hand a squeeze. “I’m excited about the project.”
“Me too. You have some great ideas and I know my home is in great hands. Ivy speaks highly of you and that’s the best recommendation,” I tell her.
A wide smile falls across her lips, one I haven’t seen in such a long time. “I promise I won’t let you down.” I know she won’t. Rosie looks down at her watch. “Oh, that’s the time. Wow. I didn’t realize it was so late. I should be letting you go, I’ve taken up too much of your time,” she says as she starts packing up her things.
“I’ve had fun with you, tonight,” I confess as I start clearing up our rubbish. “Watching you in your element, how happy and excited you are to help bring my ideas to life has made me forget about the outside world for a couple of hours.”
“Me too,” she says, shoving her notepad into her bag.
“What are your plans for the rest of the night?”
She lets out a sigh. “I’m thinking I might walk back home. It looks like a beautiful night.”
“Where’s home?” I ask.
“Chelsea, near the office.”
That’s a couple of miles, add in heels and a bottle of wine. “Do you want company?” The words are out before I have a chance to realize what I’ve asked.
“You want to walk me back to Chelsea?”
“I could use the fresh air. I’ve been stuck in my office all week, fighting fires. You don’t have to talk to me if you need to be alone, I just need to clear my head.”
Her brows pull together. “I’d like that.” Her answer surprises me, I thought for sure she would say no. I grab my keys and phone and lock up the gallery.
“Do you know where you are going?” I ask.
“Yeah, I put it in my phone. I have a rough idea. I like the idea of just wandering down the streets—they are so beautiful here—getting lost in the architecture, the history.”
Rosie is a beautiful woman, and in this moment, I want nothing more than to reach down, cup her face, and kiss her. But I can’t. And I won’t.
“Are you going to be okay in those heels?” I ask, staring down at her legs, quickly having a glance before zeroing in on her heels.
She shrugs. “Let’s see how I go. Otherwise, you might have to piggyback me all the way home.”
“Piggyback?” I question her.
“You know, when someone jumps on your back, and you carry them?” she explains. I shake my head. “Turn around and get ready to catch me,” she says, and the next thing I know, she’s jumping onto my back, and I grab her. “This is a piggyback ride.”
I turn my head, and our mouths are so close to one another that my eyes flick to her lips before returning. “I know, I wanted to see if you would do it.”
She gasps and hits me lightly before jumping down. I’m in fits of laughter, and she shakes her head and then flips me off which is the cutest thing. “You’re a dick. Maybe I should walk home alone.” She huffs as she starts walking away from me.
“Hold up, I’m sorry. I was messing around,” I say as I walk beside her. It’s nice being able to laugh like this, it feels like it’s been forever since I have.
“It was a good one,” she grumbles beside me, but the smile that is across her lips says she’s not angry about it.
13
DANIEL
We continue to walk through the streets of Mayfair, and she excitedly talks about the buildings, giving me historical facts as we pass certain places of interest. We stop and look in the windows of some designer shops, but she doesn’t go inside saying they are out of her budget. Most women I date would have happily dragged me into the shop and done whatever they needed to secure the bag.
“Do you want to walk through Hyde Park or go around?” she asks when we reach the park.
“Which way is quicker?”
“Through the park,” she answers.
“How are your feet?”
“Fine.” She huffs.
I would say they are not fine, and she might be in some pain. “Come with me,” I say, grabbing her hand and taking her into the nearest designer shop I can find.
“Daniel, what are you doing?” she asks, tugging at my hand, but I won’t let go, it feels nice having her hand in mine.
“Hi, can I help you?” the sales assistant asks.
“Yes, I’d love to grab her some flats. I know her feet are hurting walking in these heels, but she’s too stubborn to say anything. I think she’s a size eight?” I tell the woman.
She looks over at Rosie and then back to me. “Let’s see what we have,” she says, walking away.
“Daniel, what are you doing?” Rosie asks me.
“Sit, relax. Let’s get you some flats so you don’t end up ruining your feet,” I say, taking a seat, and reluctantly she follows. She slips her shoes off and I can see the red blisters on her toes as she stretches them. The sales assistant brings out some designer sneakers and hands them to Rosie to try on. She puts them on, and I know they feel good on her feet, then she spies the price.
“They are too expensive,” she whispers to me.
