Page 65 of Arrogant Playboy

I park my car and get out. She sees me walking over to her and jumps in surprise.

“Oh, hi, you’re here.”

“I am,” I say, reaching out and grabbing her bag from her. She follows in silence as I put the bag in the backseat and then open the door for her. She gives me a small smile and hops in, I walk around and jump back into my car. We sit in silence as we pull out into Friday night London traffic. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem,” I answer, hating the way her berry perfume tickles my nose and makes me think of burying my face between her thighs.

“I’m sorry that my meeting went over. Now we’re going to be stuck in peak hour traffic.” She grimaces, staring at the red and white lights of the cars around us as we merge into traffic.

“Least we are stuck in style.” I grin, daring to look over at her.

She’s playing with the end of her plait nervously, which is hanging over her shoulder. “I’ve never ridden in a Ferrari before,” she confesses.

“It’s a Ferrari Purosangue.”

“It’s beautiful,” she says, running her hand over the leather fabric before silence falls between us.

“Do you like cars?” I ask, filling the void between us.

“As a mode of transport, yes, but I don’t know anything about them. I’m assuming you have a thing for cars.”

“I do,” I answer but don’t elaborate any further, which stills the conversation. I don’t want to talk about what I have in case it makes her feel uncomfortable like it did in New York. I can feel her fidgeting beside me.

“What other cars do you have?”

And yes, the conversation between us has reached this level of pain. “Do you really want to know?” I ask, looking over at her.

She turns and gives me a frown. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested?”

Great start to the weekend, we are already bickering. “Fine. I buy a car that matches my home because each home I have I use for something different.”

“Of course you do,” she grumbles.

“Like you said, we’re not from the same world.” I hear the sharp intake of her breath at my harsh words, but she doesn’t respond and instead stares out the car window. “You want to talk about what happened in New York?”

“No.” She huffs, folding her arms over her chest.

“Guess you’re going to have to listen to me talk then,” I say, looking over at her, she continues to ignore me. “I thought we had a great day. I loved hanging out with you, watching how excited you got over cushions and sofas.” She doesn’t say anything. “I was excited to show you my home. Of all the people I’ve brought there, and it's only been a handful, you were the one who I wanted to impress the most.” She fidgets in her chair. “I grew up with this being my world. I don’t know life any differently. Even Louis, it’s taken him a while to get used to it. My father and I think, to some point, because my mother was so heartbroken, made sure that Louis and his mother never saw a dime of what my family had. Louis grew up struggling, but I guess that’s why he is such an incredible artist because of that struggle and love he got from his mother. He may not have had the material things that I did, but he sure as hell had the love.” When I look over at her again, she is staring at me, there’s emotion swirling behind those green eyes as she stares at me. “I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable, Rosie.”

“You don’t,” she whispers.

“I can’t change who I am.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“I would try for you,” I confess, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Daniel,” she says my name lightly.

“Don’t, Rosie, I know what you’re going to say.” I don’t want to hear the whole client line in this moment.

Silence falls between us as we continue what feels like the longest drive in history.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you in New York,” she says quietly, “I just … if I’m being honest, I don’t understand why someone like you is interested in someone like me.” Her words come out in aflurry as if she didn’t get them all out at once, she wouldn’t be able to say them.

I turn to her for a brief moment. “How could I not be interested, Rosie?” She is chewing her nail before I turn my eyes back to the road. “You’re smart, beautiful, kind, and funny. I have a lot of fun when I’m with you.” When I chance a glance at her again, she is still chewing that nail.

“You could have anyone,” she adds.

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