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

damn! Now I’m thinking about Daniel in his underwear, and my face burns even brighter.
“Look, Louis is difficult at the best of times, but with his divorce finalized last week, and…” Daniel takes a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh when he continues, “… with him just giving her whatever she wanted, he’s not in a good place.” That doesn’t seem fair since she’s the one who betrayed him. “I’m not asking you to cut him some slack…” he trails off, “… but cut him some slack,” I add.
Daniel chuckles. “Yeah. I’m hoping things improve.” I can see it on his face that he isn’t so sure, though. “Anyway, let’s discuss your job, and then I have to get back to Paris to look after my other artists.”
Daniel left hours ago, and I have been going through all of Louis’ private messages on his social media pages. The amount of body parts I have seen is mind-boggling. Who thinks sending a stranger images of your most intimate parts is a good idea? The desperation of these women offering Louis themselves is actually quite sad.
There’s a knock at the office door. Looking out the window, I notice how dark it’s become. I have been working in here for hours.
“Sorry to disturb you…” Gabriel smiles, “… I just thought I’d let you know that I took some food to Louis in the studio. He was passed out, but I know when he wakes, he’ll be hungry.” A frown falls across my brow—he’s passed out drunk already. That’s not good. “And I’ve left you some dinner, it’s in the oven.”
“Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad Daniel hired you. I think you’re going to be good for him.” Gabriel’s comment makes me smile.
“As long as I don’t spill hot coffee on him.”
He chuckles. “He deserved it after this morning.” I smile. “Good night, Emily.”
“Good night, Gabriel.”
“Emily.” Gabriel pops his head back into the office, and I look up at him. “What that woman said to you today… she’s wrong. I think you look perfect the way you are.” Aw, bless him. He really didn’t need to say that. Not going to lie her words did sting, but I also I wasn’t the one doing the walk of shame either.
“You just want me to keep eating your croissants.”
“Of course.” He smirks.
“Thank you, Gabriel. I appreciate it.” He gives me a salute and disappears.
A little while later, my stomach rumbles, and I take it as my cue to grab something to eat. I shut the laptop down, roll my shoulders back, and shift my neck from side to side. I’m not used to being hunched over a computer all day, but it beats standing on my feet for nine hours at Madame Tussauds. Walking back into the kitchen, I pull out the roast chicken and vegetables Gabriel left in the oven for me. Grabbing myself a soda from the fridge, I decide to sit outside in the garden. It’s another beautiful night. The pool looks inviting, but tonight I won’t be jumping in. I’ve learned that lesson. I take a seat and notice the light is on in Louis’ studio.
Should I check on him? No. I’m not his babysitter. But then again, I am his assistant, and shouldn’t I be assisting? Ugh, my conscience gets the better of me. I’ll check on him after dinner.
I take the first bite of my chicken, and it’s amazing.
It doesn’t take me long to finish my dinner as the sun sets. I take my dishes back to the kitchen, wash them, and head on over to Louis’ studio before I go to my room for the evening.
When I knock on the door, there’s music playing, but he probably can’t hear me. So, I open the door slowly and make my way inside.
Oh shit! I’m glued to the spot.
Louis is sitting on a paint-splattered sofa, his tanned hand fisting himself with his eyes closed and primal grunting falling from his lips.
Then the floorboards creak.
Shit! I’m busted.

11


Louis
I’ve watched the day turn from yellow to orange then to black, and still I’m staring at the canvas and yet, there’s still no creativity. The tequila certainly isn’t helping as I passed out for a little while. But when I came to with my head pounding, my eyes bloodshot, and everything that I had been trying to drown out floods back in damn technicolor.
Thankfully, Gabriel dropped something for me to eat before he finished for the day to help soak up the alcohol. I pull out my cell, and I know what I’m doing is a slippery slope, but I’m desperate, desperate for my daily hit. I unlock it and pull up her account.
God, she’s beautiful.
I stare at her face, trying to remember what her skin felt like, how her body felt, hoping and praying that through the screen, she can bring back some of my magic that she took away when she left me. There’s a photograph of her at the beach dressed in the skimpiest of bikinis, her large breasts almost spilling out of the black fabric. Her skin is sun-kissed, and I know she has an all-over tan because she hates the lines.
My dick twitches to life thinking about her curves, remembering every inch of her glorious body. I pull out my dick. This is what I need—I want to feel dirty jerking off to an image of my ex-wife, or maybe I just want to feel something, anything, and if this is the only way, then dammit, I’m going to do it.
My hand slides over me as I try and remember the way she felt against my skin, her smell, her warmth. The scent of roses filters through the window, changing the image of my ex to my assistant emerging from the pool. My dick instantly turns hard. Recently, it has taken me a while to get an erection as the ache filling me takes over.
My mind conjures up images of Emily in her simple white