Page 119 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"She, uh, she had work to do, so she won't be joining me today." Somehow, I feel more guilty lying to her than almost murdering that man on the sidewalk.

"You've been saying the same thing for a month," she tells me and puts her hand on the counter, leaning on it. "What's really going on?"

I grab a basket, holding it in my arms and wondering why I'm folding like a limp dick to this random store clerk. "We had a fight," I confess while moving into an aisle to avoid the glare she's no doubt giving me.

Ruth moves out from behind the counter and follows me. "You can't say that and expect me not to ask questions. Is she okay? Are you okay? What happened? Why haven't you apologized yet?"

I reach for the bagels, my hand stopping in midair. "What makes you so sure I did something wrong?" I throw them in mybasket, ignoring the thoughts that bubble up…bagels…London's safe word, and one of her favorite foods.

"Because it's always the guy’s fault. Haven't you learned anything about women?" Ruth stays like a shadow, calling me out without even knowing what happened.

Mindlessly, I continue around the store, tossing things in and trying to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"For someone who doesn't think he did anything wrong, you sure do seem to have a lot of the things she likes in this basket." Ruth pulls each item out and places them into a bag. She doesn't ring them up, because she never does, and regardless of her giving me a total, I pay her in cash anyway, always more than what it would have been.

This started years ago when I moved in, and some guy tried to rob her place. I took care of it and vowed to offer my protection, making sure everyone knew who was claiming this territory, a Sin brother. Since that day, no one has dared step foot into this store to cause trouble, except when I brought London in for the first time—that man sent from the Manor brothers trying to stir up shit. If only I could prove it, then maybe my older brother would take me seriously that they're a bigger threat than they let on. I shouldn't concern myself with such issues, but it's hard when I care about my family more than I care about myself. I don't want them to suffer just because I'm down in the dumps.

"Fine. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand." Ruth sets the bags on the counter, scooting them toward me. "You might not have asked for my advice, but I'm going to give it to you anyway." She stares right at me. "You need to fix this. I don't care what happened. What was between you two is rare. You want to miss out on that because of some fight? Life is too short, Archie. Don't let love pass you by. Don't be that stubborn."

I slide a couple hundred-dollar bills across the counter and take the bags. "Thanks, Ruth." I leave the store without another word, hers ringing in my head and making me wish I had never left my apartment to begin with. I wouldn't have run into London and I wouldn't have gotten lectured by Ruth.

Maybe I needed both of those things to happen. Maybe I need a wake-up call. Or maybe I need to be more like Seven and not give a fuck about anyone other than myself.

A week of living next to London feels more like an eternity in hell. I don't leave. Not once. I don't even poke my head out of my apartment, not to check the mail, not to get groceries, not to get a breath of fresh air. I've kept my blinds drawn and my lights dimmed, and I wouldn't be surprised if I have a vitamin deficiency at this point.

My computer dings, alerting me to a feed I had been trying to hack into, the code finally going through. I scan the screen, watching Joe Vito walk into the massage parlor he's been frequenting lately. His belly is round, and in the past month I've been surveilling him, he's gained even more weight, his complexion uneven and the bags under his eyes darkening. He doesn't appear well, like he has an underlying medical condition or something severely stressing him out. Not that I care either way, although I wouldn't be mad if he dropped dead, making my task of keeping London safe permanently complete, the one person who's after her buried in the ground. I'd do it myself if he weren't such an untouchable man.

I hate that word—untouchable. It implies my inability to kill someone, but it has nothing to do with whether I could pull it off, yet the implications that would follow in his death. Ifit were natural causes, no one is to blame, and there would be an investigation to make sure that's what happened, but if someone were to kill him, it would mean things worse than death for anyone who associates with the killer. Joe is part of a powerful family. As was Ricardo. Their influence is passed down generation after generation, giving each fresh blood more authority than they deserved, never really earning it themself, unlike my family. We're new to this criminal world, the first in the Sin syndicate, which is what intimidates so many—the fact that it wasn't passed down, that we did, in fact, earn every bit of fear exuded when someone utters our name. It wasn't easy, and I'm not proud of everything we did to get here, but we came from nothing, and I think there's something to be said about someone who can build an empire out of jack shit.

My phone rings, Ivy's face lighting up the screen. I hit ignore, letting it go to voicemail, knowing damn well she's not going to leave one. How many times will she call before she gets the hint that I don't want to talk? I've already told her countless times, but she keeps insisting I'm worth trying to get through to. I understand she wants to help, but the fact that she's the one who brought this to my attention makes me relive the moment of finding out London lied to me over and over.

I silence another call from Ivy, keeping my attention on the screen, begging myself not to get curious and click on another feed I keep nearby, too…the one of London. I thought with her living next door, I'd be able to stop watching her, but I can't, and no matter what I do, I can't withstand the urge to check on her.

Letting my impulses get the best of me, I pull up the feed, holding my breath as London appears in my line of sight. She's talking to Grace, at the bakery, only she's sitting at a table, maybe on break or off the clock. I should know her hours by now, but every time I figure them out, they change again. I'm notmad at her for being unpredictable, because that alone is what could keep her from some creep that isn't me stalking her.

"Don't turn on the audio," I tell myself, hovering my finger over the button. "Don't do it." I sigh and push it anyway, hating myself for my lack of control.

"You're coming to the gala still, right?" Grace asks London and takes a sip of her latte.

"I mean, I want to, yeah." London rubs at her neck like something is bothering her. "I don't know if I can."

"Why? The bakery is closed then, right? What else could you be doing? Come on. Don't leave me hanging. I will totally guilt-trip you, and I won't even feel bad about it."

"You're ruthless," London tells her.

"I know. Need not mention how we're no longer roommates, and that was devastating enough. You're not going to leave me with Leo, are you? Come on, who cares if the grumpy brother is there? Don't let that stop you."

I lean in closer, my breath hanging on their every word, wondering what London is going to say next. It's like a fucking car crash I can't peel my attention away from.

"It has nothing to do withhim."

"I'm not going to let it go until you give me a reason. I deserve that much." Grace bats her eyelashes dramatically at London.

London sighs. "I don't have anything to wear."

"Is that it?" Grace laughs and shoves London's shoulder playfully. "We can go shopping this weekend."

London doesn't add that she can't afford to go shopping, because I know damn well she isn't going to use the black Amex of mine that she's still in possession of and she isn't exactly rolling in cash at her bakery gig. I've checked the charges almost every day and she hasn't spent a dime of my money.

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