Sneak Peek of The Arrogant One
The Arrogant One , the first book in the Weston Group Series, features Hart Weston. It’s a sizzling hot, playboy, one-night-stand billionaire romance that’s releasing Spring of 2025.
Here’s a sneak peek …
Hart
Out of all the sounds I’d ever heard in my life, her laugh was easily the sexiest. It filled my ears as we reached for the door at the same time, our hands linked by accident.
“Sorry about that,” she said, her giggle dying out.
“No reason to be sorry.” Especially when it came to touching.
My fingers stayed on hers for a second longer than they probably should, squeezing her and the metal handle at the same time.
And while we both pulled the restaurant door open, I took her in even more.
Hair that appeared black in the dimly lit entrance, and eyes that were radiant and a vibrant blue. Lips that were thick and sparkled with gloss. Tits that were tucked inside a dress and then hidden beneath a jacket, which also concealed most of her body, but the little I could see was perfect.
More than perfect.
What I saw was enticing.
And that was just her body, her face was fucking stunning.
As her fingers pulled away, now at her sides, she stood frozen as though she was waiting for instruction.
“After you,” I said, the door open wide enough that she could fit through.
“Are you sure?” Her question was toned in a way that sounded flirtatious.
“That I want you to walk in first?” I took another dip to her heels and gradually worked my way back up. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Was I sure I wanted to eat alone tonight—the whole reason I was here in the first place—no.
I’d rather eat with her.
Or eat just her.
But I was positive that a woman as gorgeous as her, coming to a restaurant on a Thursday evening, dressed as beautiful and as elegant, was meeting someone.
“Please,” I replied.
She smiled as she walked past me. “Thank you.”
Her expression was an added bonus to her beauty, one I hadn’t anticipated to be as powerful as it was or that it could make her look even more stunning.
But I was so fucking wrong.
Her smile was breathtaking.
I followed her in, smelling the fruity jasmine that wafted from her, a scent that was as captivating as her gaze and we parted ways as she approached the hostess desk, and I went into the bar.
A goddamn shame too.
I would have really liked a night with her over the one I had planned.
I thumbed through the drink menu the bartender handed me. I already knew what I was going to order, but I looked at it to see its presentation. This restaurant was my family’s newest competition in LA. My purpose in coming here was to feel it out and assess the ambience, food, service and friendliness of the staff.
“How’s your old fashioned?” I asked the bartender.
“I make the best one in town.”
I chuckled to myself.
Nah, man, our old fashioned at Charred, our Michelin-rated steakhouse with locations all over the world, was the best one in Los Angeles. It had actually won awards.
But bartenders needed to be cocky, and this restaurant had only been open for two months, they still had a lot of convincing to do in a market that demanded excellence.
“Prove it to me,” I told him.
He smiled. “Happily.”
“Make that two,” someone said from beside me.
I didn’t even have to look.
I smelled her the second she spoke, the fruit and jasmine taking hold of me and not letting go.
As I turned toward her, she said, “Mind if I sit?” Her teeth were on her lip, biting and inviting me in.
There was only one chair left at the bar, and it was next to mine. “I would enjoy nothing more.”
There was that smile again.
The one that had rocked me just a few moments ago.
And the one that was making my dick painfully hard.
As she got settled in the seat, she said, “When your date arrives—assuming you have one this evening—I don’t mind getting up so she can sit with you.”
An interesting offer.
“I’m eating alone. Right here in the bar. You don’t have to go anywhere … unless you want to.” I paused, thinking of the words I wanted to use, carefully choosing the right ones. “I suppose I should say I’ll get up when your date arrives.”
After the nibbling of her lip, she rubbed both together, drawing my attention there once again. To their lusciousness. Glossiness. Causing me to think of only one thing—the way they would look when they were sucking on the end of my dick.
“You should offer that, yes,” she agreed.
“Except I won’t. Because I’d like to eat dinner with you tonight.”
“And if I’m meeting someone?”
“Fuck them. Stay with me.”
She spread her lips wide, a smile but without any teeth, her head slightly shaking. “That’s a confident thing to say.”
I reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Hart. And you are?”
While she looked at my fingers, I knew without any doubt that she would be joining me for dinner.
That I would know her intimately before the night was over.
That she would be naked within a few seconds of getting in my car.
And that she was already mine … she just didn’t know it.