Page 27 of The Date

Because I’m obviously an arsehole, I find myself saying, “Yeah, you are, Rose … like the flower.”

Her narrowed eyes briefly flick to me. “I’m not. And stop calling me that.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Do I need to go to HR and report you?”

“For what? Taking my assistant to a business lunch so she can take notes? Seems pretty above board to me.”

A tiny groan rips from the base of her throat as she stands, snatches her jacket from the back of her chair, and slips it on.

When she bends to retrieve her bag from the bottom drawer of her desk, my eyes drop to the curve of her arse before I can stop them. Fuck. I might not be a fan of the way her last boss objectified her, but I can understand why that handsy bastard kept requesting she wear these skirts to work.

The difference is, I’d never make her feel uncomfortable for looking fucking incredible in them. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” she snaps, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder, yanking a notepad off her desk and storming past me.

Shit like this used to infuriate me to no end with Janet, but I don’t exactly hate Rose’s attitude. Quite the opposite.

I’m smiling like a fool as I follow behind her. Today she’s wearing a sexy red skirt that falls just below her knees, with a split at the back that gives me glimpses of her legs as she walks. It hugs every curve in all the right places. Her black top matches the sky-high heels on her feet, and I’m trying extremely hard to focus on anything other than the hypnotic sway of her hips.

The drive to my meeting with Spencer Prescott is silent. Rose won’t even look in my direction. Not when we stepped into the lift, not when we exited into the basement level, and certainly not as we strolled towards my car.

I’ll admit I caught the slight widening of her pretty eyes when we came to a stop beside my Aston Martin DB12. She didn’t comment, but I have no doubt she knows exactly what kind of car it is. She knew what my Bugatti was.

She simply continued ignoring me, even when I opened the passenger-side door for her.

Stubborn woman.

Right now, she’s staring out the front windscreen with her notepad clutched to her chest like it’s a lifeline. What she fails to realise is that I’ve always liked a challenge, and Rose … like the flower, is shaping up to be my favourite one yet.

I turn down the side street when we reach our destination and pull into Aurelia’s rear parking bay. That’s enough to snap Rose out of her sulking.

Her head turns sharply towards the restaurant, and I watch recognition dawn across her face. “What are we doing back here?” she grumbles.

“I told you, a business meeting.”

“Why here of all places?”

“Did you forget the night we met, I was actually here to meet a client?” My gaze moves to her as I speak, and I watch the pink hue rise in her cheeks. “There’s no method to my madness, Rose. I simply come here often.”

“Oh,” she says, unclicking her seatbelt and reaching for her handbag she stowed by her feet.

“I know you’re mad at me for tricking you⁠—”

“Twice.”

I exhale a long breath. “My heart was in the right place both times. I hope one day you’ll realise that.”

“You mean you actually have one of those?” she counters, reaching for the door handle.

I can’t help but smile. “It’s still beating, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I hear her scoff as she climbs out of the car. Every dirty look and every sharp word is meant to put me off. Instead, it’s proving to be one hell of an aphrodisiac.

Spencer is already sitting at a table and waiting for us when we enter the restaurant. He’s obviously found something; otherwise, he wouldn’t have arranged this meeting or insisted we discuss it in person.

It makes me feel slightly apprehensive. The smart move would’ve been to leave Rose at the office, but she’s spent the entire morning ignoring me, and apparently, I’ve developed a pathological need to be in her company. So, naturally, I brought her along.

He stands, ready to greet us as we approach, holding his hand out to me as soon as I reach him. I grasp it before placing my flattened palm on the small of Rose’s back, guiding her forward. “This is Rose. She’s my new PA.”