Page 14 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

He glares at Arpad, who chuckles. "I see all that time you’ve spent on R&R isn’t doing much for your disposition. Not that I blame you, considering your Christmas single flopped."

Damian growls. He actually growls. "Fuck off, Beauchamp."

Arpad’s lips twist, "If you fancy a fight, I’d be only too happy to oblige."

"Oh, yeah?" Damian steps up to stand chest to chest with the other guy. "Don’t think I’ll back down."

"I’m counting on it." Arpad flicks open the buttons on his long-sleeved shirt, then rolls up his cuffs.

Damian shrugs out of his leather jacket—Why the hell did he put it back on?—and hands it to me. "Are you really going to do this?" I hiss.

He doesn’t reply. Typical. I grab his jacket— Why the hell am I doing that? I should simply throw it down on the floor and walk away. Instead, I slip it on. It’s big enough to dwarf me, and his scent… Oh, his spicy, dark essence envelops me, and I swear, my ovaries spasm.

"Step back," Damian orders.

"What?"

He turns, leans in toward me, and I skitter back.

His lips kick up in that smirk that would give Billy Idol a run for his money… And Damian Savage has far more presence.

"Good." He nods. "Now stay there."

"What the—?" I scowl, take a step forward, when Isla grabs my hand.

"Stay," she insists.

"But."

"Trust me." She lowers her voice, "You don’t want to poke the beast right now."

I stare at her, "You make him sound like some primitive species."

"Which is what they are. Primal to the core, especially when it comes to their women."

"You have much experience?"

"Only from the outside," she firms her lips. "It’s also why I’ve sworn never to be mixed up with them."

"Famous last words," Amelie drawls. "That’s what I told myself, and now look." She waves her left hand in the air.

Isla makes a gagging sound. "I’m so tired of all my friends falling for one of the Seven, which is why I am so pleased you are here, Julia." She hooks her arm with mine.

"You are?"

She nods. "You're not going to get caught up with that self-entitled rock star."

"I'm not?"

She shakes her head. "You have too much common sense to become another of his conquests."

I frown, "You mean, I'm not his type?"

"You are the kind of woman who'd rather take things into her own hands, and set your own terms."

"So, I should go after him, rather than the other way around?" I muse.

"All I'm saying is, don’t give in too easily," Isla urges. "Rock star or not, make him work before allowing him close to you."