Page 111 of The Price of Forever

He shook his head. “I’m not buying it.”

I scoffed. “Well when I’m making fifteen grand a day, I can afford to buy it.”

“Don’t be fucking sassy,” he warned.

“I’m not being sassy. What’s the downside here? Either I learn something that might help my brothers, or I make a shit ton of money that helps me.”

Seven watched me for a moment, his nostrils flared. “He’s a drunk, rich asshole who will say anything he can to impress the woman he wants to fuck. That’s what I think.”

I groaned. “Fine. Agree to disagree. But emptying Eli’s pockets is the best way I can think of to help even the scales between him and my brothers. And he doesn’t even fucking know it. It’s like…secret alimony or something.”

Seven seemed thoroughly unmoved by that.

“And you know what else? At the end of the day, I need to make money,” I reminded him. “I need to get back on my own two feet. Remember? You told me this was a temporary place for me. So I need to find an apartment, start paying rent again. Move into a place on my own that doesn’t have a door that lets some random guy just walk into my apartment while I’m working.”

Seven said nothing, just studied the countertop while his jaw flexed and flexed.

And maybe reminding him was helpful to remind me as well.

No matter how sexy and fun this stay had been, it wasn’t my home. It wasn’t for me to stay in permanently. Seven had made that abundantly clear at the beginning, and I intended to make good on the arrangement.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” I asked, when the silence became heavy.

“It doesn’t matter what I say.” He stood straight, his face a frighteningly neutral mask. “You’ve already made up your mind. You gave him access to you outside the walls of the club when you promised you wouldn’t. It’s done. There’s nothing I can do except clean up the mess.”

He started toward the bedroom, calling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna head out for a little bit. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

He disappeared into the bedroom. Everything felt bloated and tense, and I had a sneaking suspicion his departure was directly related to me.

I frowned down at my coffee, stirring even though it was already perfectly mixed.

A moment later, he strode back through the apartment, his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He grabbed his jacket on his way out.

“Text if you need anything,” he said curtly.

And then he was gone.

I stood indignantly for a few moments, looking around the empty apartment, watching Ranger wander by. So Seven was mad—okay. Understandable. He needed some time to process. Also fine.

But now he’d ruined my day by walking out on me and putting up the brick wall again. I expected more from him; after so much intimacy and openness, his shutting down felt alien and cold.

I drained my coffee while roaming the apartment like a lost fruit fly. When I couldn’t settle, I finally addressed Eli’s texts.

ELI: I’m hosting a party tomorrow night. I NEED you there.

ELI: Come on gorgeous. Tell me you’ll come.

JORDAN: I’m open. But I need to make one thing clear.

ELI: What is it?

JORDAN: I’m not your girlfriend, and I’m not a prostitute. I expect you’ll want me to dance and entertain your friends. That’s work for me. So I’m expecting to be compensated. And everyone keeps their hands to themselves.

ELI: Compensation is my middle name. Along with Perfect Gentleman. So you in?

JORDAN: One more thing.

ELI: Jesus.

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