Page 22 of Break the Ice
When several more sharp knocks join the first one, I realize the person isn’t going away. Turning down the shower knobs and grabbing my robe to wrap myself up in, I pad through my apartment to check the peephole.
I gasp and step away from the door once I see who’s on the other side.
He knocks again as if sensing I’ve peeped him in the tiny hole drilled into my door. No use dragging this out any longer when he’s clearly aware I’m home and I’ve seen him outside my apartment. I draw the door open with dread sinking into me.
Rafe merely grins. “Evening, Sugar Tits. I decided to stop by ’cuz it’s about time we go over our path forward.”
“Path forward?” I arch a brow at him.
“Yes, path forward,” he says, then he invites himself inside, blowing past me. “You know, what I know about you and how you’re going to buy my silence. That kind of thing.”
8. Rafe
“Get out,” Marisse snarls, immediately on the offensive.
I’ve strolled into her apartment unchecked, my hands stowed in the pockets of my sweatpants. My head’s on a swivel, glancing around. Her private space is exactly how I imagined—bright, clean, and smelling of some soft, sweet scent. Jasmine or peonies or some other flowery shit.
Feminine and kind of arousing.
It more than fits her.
I smirk at the family of leafy plants strategically placed near the floor-to-ceiling window, then invite myself onto her sofa. Tossing myself down, I fold my hands behind my head and grin over at her.
“Nice place you’ve got here. Very… photogenic.”
Her hands notch at her waist as if out of instinct. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it sounds like it means, Sugar Tits. Your apartment’s so pretty. Very sanitized. I bet it looks great on Instagram.”
“You think I keep my apartment like this for social media?” she scoffs, her left brow ticking up. “Has it ever occurred to you not everyone wants attention like you do?”
“Says the chick who’s in the PR business.”
“My career has nothing to do with—why are you even here? Get off my sofa!”
“Is this how you treat all your guests?”
“I missed the part where I invited you in as a guest,” she says sharply.
If it were at all possible, my grin would widen. Marisse tries so hard to pretend she’s cool and unbothered in my presence, like she’s above being agitated by a guy like me. Somebody she deems beneath her.
She’s got no clue how she makes it so much worse when she behaves this way. Her snootiness makes me want to be ten times the trolling asshole I already am.
This is going to be fun.
I stretch out on the sofa, making a show of flexing my biceps and settling against the throw pillows and cushions. I’ve got all the time in the world to get nice and comfy as she stands by and waits. Her slits-for-eyes narrow a quarter inch more.
“I’d say it doesn’t matter if you’ve invited me. I invited myself.”
“Golding,” she spits out. “I’m only going to tell you this once. Get up and get out.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else, I’m calling building security. You’ll be introduced to Terval—six foot six, two hundred and seventy-five pounds of fuck around and find out.”
I laugh. “I’ve gotta admit. It’s kinda hot when you cuss, Sugar Tits.”
“You have five seconds.”
