Page 9 of Arrogant Playboy

“Maybe, English people can be so uptight when it comes to sex.”

“I’m not uptight,” she says, her voice rising.

“You most certainly weren’t uptight at all that night.”

Rosie looks down at the table and starts playing with her cutlery.

“Do you regret that night?” I ask, the slightest insecurity coming through. Silence falls between us.

Oh. Shit. She does.

“No,” her answer is a quiet whisper.

“But you’re not interested in another round?” I ask her honestly.

She lets out a long sigh. “It doesn’t matter, we now work together.”That wasn’t a no.“My reputation means everything to me. I’ve worked too hard for that to be taken from me because of a drunken night.”

I hear you, Rosie, loud and clear.

“Sounds like you’re doing well from the praise Ivy has given and she doesn’t give praise lightly.”

Rosie’s face lights up as she starts talking, “Ivy is amazing. Getting to work with her is honestly a dream come true. I love what I do, bringing my clients’ dreams to reality. I hope one day my future is as bright as Ivy’s.”

“With the billionaire fiancé?” I question her. She doesn’t seem like a gold digger, but I have been fooled before.

Rosie looks offended by my comment. “No, I don’t care about money, I do well on my own. You’re friends with them so you probably see it all the time, but they are couple goals. He is her biggest cheerleader as she is to him. They look like they are each other’s best friends.”

She’s not wrong. “My other two friends are as nauseating as Alex and Ivy.”

“Let me guess, you’re the single one of the group,” she asks and I can hear the sarcasm dripping from her words.

“By choice.” Rosie huffs as if she disagrees. “You don’t think it’s by choice?”

“Oh, I know it’s by choice. You seem like the kind of man that likes style over substance.”

“I mustn’t have done that the night I met you.”

Rosie huffs. “I chose you.”

I raise a brow at her. “Really, now?” I lean forward, interested in what she has to say about that.

“You looked like the kind of man who … you know …” she says, waving her hand at me.

I shake my head. “I can assure you, Miss Hunt, I don’t know.”

A tiny grumble falls from those plush pink lips. “You’re a playboy.”

I’m a little taken aback that is how she perceives me. “You seem to have dated a few of them?”

“Oh no, I steer clear of them.”

“Except for me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew what I wanted, and you were the person who I knew would give it to me,” she answers honestly.

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