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

was the last time we ever heard from her. My father, of course, was devastated and declared everything to do with my mother to be banned from our home. My father passed away the last year of high school, and as devastated as I was losing him, there was a sense of relief that I could pursue my private love of art without hurting him. Of course, my siblings aren’t happy about my choice, but they have their own goals to worry about, so they don’t have time to worry about me.
“Your French is perfect,” Daniel comments. My cheeks flare with color at his compliment. “You’re hired,” he tells me.
I stare at him in shock, more because I have only been here for no more than five minutes. He hasn’t even asked me any questions.
“Are you sure?” Why are you putting doubt in his mind, Emily?
He chuckles. “I have a good feeling about you, Miss Chapman.” His baby blues stare at me intently while I internally sigh. “I think you’ll keep my client in check.” Um, okay. “He’s having a rough time at the moment,” Daniel says softly.
“I understand.” More than he knows.
“Will you be able to start soon?”
“Yes. I have to move out of my current place, so I should be ready to go in a couple of days.”
Daniel nods.
I still have some things that I haven’t had time to pick up from Toby’s yet. I’ve been putting it off not wanting to run into him, but I guess the time has come.
“My client is difficult at the moment, and I need to warn you of that. Surly, to say the least.”
Think of your résumé, Emily. Right now, you can’t be picky.
“Artists can be temperamental.” I give him a confident smile. He doesn’t realize I grew up with a temperamental artist. Some days my mother was happy and others she’d sink into a deep depression, and no matter what I did, I could never pull her out of it. I guess accidentally becoming pregnant to a man you never loved, then marrying him and producing more children than you ever wanted, which in turn trapped Mum more into a life she hated with a man who didn’t understand art nor did he ever want to, could make you depressed.
“This artist is quite temperamental at the moment.” Those baby blues look at me with concern. “Just know you can leave at any moment if you can’t handle it. You’ll still be paid your salary for the summer in exchange for not talking about your time with the artist.”
Not really a great selling point. Daniel’s not painting a rosy picture, but I can’t be fussy. I wonder who this temperamental artist is?
“May I ask who it is?”
“If I told you, you might not take the job, and honestly, I need the help right now.” He’s giving me puppy dog eyes. Damn, this beautiful man. “But I promise you… you can talk to me any time of the day or night.” Now that’s kind of a selling point right there. “I understand the quirks of this artist.” I guess that’s kind of reassuring, but there’s a part of me that’s a little hesitant about my new boss seeing as I’ll be so far away.
But that con is totally outweighed by all the pros.
I am on a high. I have a job. A real job for some mysterious, famous artist in the South of France. They are going to pay me an extremely generous wage, all my living expenses are taken care of, so that means I can save most of my wage, and by the time I arrive back in London after the summer, I’ll have a healthy savings account and enough money to get my own place.
My happy mood is short-lived as I make my way to Toby’s apartment to collect the last of my things. I turn my key in the front door like I have done a million times before, but this time it makes me feel sick. The door creaks open, and the familiar scents tickle my nose, smells that used to remind me of home, but now turn my stomach.
“Hey.” Toby surprises me.
It’s early, he should normally be at the office, but instead, he’s standing in front of me. I haven’t run into him since we broke up. He looks the same—same blond hair, dressed in a navy polo and jeans—but now when I look at him, there’s nothing—no butterflies, no flutters, no nothing. All I feel is numbness, anger, and a big dose of regret for wasting so much time with a man who thinks so little of me.
“I’m not staying long, just packing up the rest of my things.”
“Oh, okay.” Toby seems shocked.
Did he seriously think I’m here for him?
I make my way to our bedroom and pull the empty suitcases from the shelves and start filling them. Toby follows after me watching me pack in silence, but then something clicks in him, and he says, “Em, we need to talk.”
I shake my head, continuing to pack. “We have nothing to talk about.”
He reaches out, his hands stop my furious packing. “Please.”
I pull myself away. I don’t like the feeling of Toby touching me anymore.
“We don’t have anything to talk about, Toby. You have been cheating on me for six months with some girl in New York. What do you think that’s going to do to me?”
“I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. It’s hard when your dick accidentally falls into a stranger’s vagina.” He looks stunned at my remark. I have never called him out on his bullshit, always too worried that I’d lose him if I did. Guess what? I did end up losing him in the end, so maybe I should have called him out earlier, and maybe now I wouldn’t be where I am.
“I still love you, Emmy.”
Goddamn! I think I’m going to be physically ill.
“Stop!” I hold up my hand. “Stop lying, Toby.” He frowns. “It doesn’t