Page 75 of Surfer's Paradise

She didn’t belong here.

She wasn’t a billionaire.

She wasn’t an investor, a CEO, a legacy kid who grew up surrounded by wealth.

She was just a girl who painted, a girl who survived, a girl who scraped her way up from nothing.

And yet, Greg Taylor wanted to meet with her personally.

It should’ve felt like a win. A career milestone. A breakthrough.

Instead, she just felt like trash.

Because no matter how much she tried to focus, her mind kept pulling her back to Isaac.

To this morning.

To the way he had kissed her like she was already his.

To the way she had let him take her again, after she swore she wouldn’t.

To the way he had left—carefree, cocky, thinking everything was fine.

It wasn’t fine.

She wasn’t fine.

She had told him no casual sex.

What the fuck was the matter with him?

What the fuck was the matter with her?

She kept going back.

Letting him in.

Letting him break her heart over and over again, even when she knew better.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Enough is enough.

Her heart couldn’t take this man.

She wasn’t some pitiful girl waiting around for Isaac Rayleigh to decide what she was worth.

She was Rosalie Quentin.

She had made it this far on her own.

And she was going to keep making it, with or without him.

The assistant’s voice pulled her back.

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