The Arrogant Artist : A Billionaire Boss Romance (International Bad Boys Set Book 2)

history degree. She speaks fluent French, and she’s perfect for the job. The fact that she is also stunningly beautiful, that’s just a bonus.”
“I’m not going to sleep with her. I don’t need my brother finding me women. I don’t have any trouble finding my own.”
“Good, because I didn’t hire her for you to sleep with. She’s there as your assistant, and only to assist you with your art. Nothing more,” I grumble at his comments. “Maybe when the summer is over, I might ask her out if you’re not interested.”
My body stills. “You?”
“Yes. She’s gorgeous, loves art, and she passed my knowledge test easily. She’s funny and intelligent. She’s the kind of girl I’ve been searching for.”
Daniel hired her for him?
“I’m glad my predicament could be of service for your dating life.” I groan, making him laugh.
“It’s not like you’re interested. So when you’re done with her, she can come and help me. I really do need an assistant.”
What the hell has gotten into Daniel?
“Whatever,” I grumble.
“Emily will be of great assistance. This one tiny transgression shouldn‘t be held against her. I did tell her she had the place to herself. You were not supposed to be there until tomorrow when I brought you.”
“It’s my house.”
“I know, but she didn’t know you would barge into the house.”
“She was swimming naked in my pool.”
“In. Her. Underwear. It’s probably a beautiful night down there. Don’t tell me you don’t just strip off and jump into the pool.” Silence falls between us because he’s right, I most definitely do. “Just forget about tonight and start new in the morning. She’s… had a rough time recently.” My interest is now piqued. “No, I’m not going to tell you about it either. You’re going have to have to make an effort with this woman and find out yourself.”
“I don’t need to make an effort to get to know her. She’s just my assistant.”
Daniel sighs. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Old Louis, yes. New Louis, no.” He laughs.
“Then she’ll just have to deal with the new one, and if she can’t, she can go back to where she came from.”
There’s an exhausted sigh from my brother before he says, “Just let her do her job and don’t be a dick.”
“Whatever! She better do her job, or she’s gone. I don’t care how much you want in her panties.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Daniel tells me as I hang up on him, throwing my phone onto my bed.
I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling, my mind a jumble of images. My body is restless. My dick needs to be sucked, and most definitely not by my new assistant no matter how much those perfect pink lips are begging to be wrapped around my cock.
No. I need some no-strings-attached fun.
I turn and look at my cell and an idea brews.
I think my assistant needs a little welcome party to get her used to the Louis Marchant experience.

7
Emily
Louis Marchant is an asshole.
An arrogantly hot asshole.
Shut up, hormones, this does not concern you.
I’m still fuming about my run-in with him as I get out of the shower.
How dare he think I’m here to seduce him? What kind of woman does he think I am?
You were standing there pretty much naked in his home. Shut up, conscience, no one asked you. Ugh, this isn’t the best start to your new job or life, Emily.
I put on my black sleep shorts and pink singlet with a little more vigor than I normally would. This is all Toby’s fault, running around New York taking selfies with his blonde bimbo as if the last five years didn’t mean a thing to him, that I didn’t mean a thing to him.
A hiccup of an emotion clogs my throat for a moment, and I close my eyes to try and shut down the pain.
Enough, Emily! You’re a grown-ass woman.
As much as you want to blame Toby for tonight, this wasn’t his fault. You had a bottle of wine and thought you were alone, so you could enjoy the pool. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his, Louis Marchant. He wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. Daniel told me he’d be arriving tomorrow.
Why the hell is he here?
Does he not trust me?
I’m a trustworthy person.
Would you trust some stranger in your home? Shut up, brain, I don’t like your logic. It’s making too much sense. Fine, okay, I’m a stranger in his home while he’s away. I get the man has trust issues, who wouldn’t after all he’s been through. It was just a terrible introduction. The man was probably drunk, after all, he was carrying a bottle of something in his hand, and he did sway a little.
I’ve read the gossip magazines—Louis Marchant is an alcoholic.
I let out a heavy sigh. Tomorrow’s a new day. I have to forget about what happened tonight and hope that Louis is drunk enough that he won’t remember anything about tonight. Fingers crossed.
I’m going to be the best assistant Louis Marchant has ever had. Anything he throws at me, I’ll take with a smile on my face. He can’t rattle me with his grumpy demeanor or his mean words—they’re going to flow over me like water off a duck’s back.
Standing up a little straighter, I give myself the ultimate pep talk. Tomorrow, I’m going to wake up with a smile on my face, a spring in my step, and do the best job I know how. I’m going to be so professional that Louis Marchant will have nothing to ever complain about. Ever again.
I’m woken by music—extremely loud music—so deafeningly loud that my room is rattling. Rubbing my eyes, I pick up my phone and glance at the screen—it’s 2:37 a.m.
Outside, over the garish music, I can also hear splashing and giggling.
What the hell is going on?
Kicking off my covers, I make my way over to the French doors. Opening them, I’m hit by a sonic boom of sound and what looks like a rap video