Page 120 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

Not bothering to witness any more of what their conversation entails, I throw on the cleanest clothes I can findand slip out of my apartment, marching straight into the store London did on her first outing when she arrived here over two months ago.

"Welcome to Charlotte's," a woman calls out to me from her spot stocking a shelf. "Can I help you with anything?"

I point to the dress in the back corner, the one London had her eye on the second she came here, passing on it because it was way more than she had at the time. "I'll take that. And whatever shoes go with it. A size seven."

"Oh, you're serious." She drops the sweater she was folding and darts around the table. "It's eight thousand."

"I don't care." I slide my Amex out of my wallet and hold it out to her. "Here."

She goes to work zipping a garment bag around the dress and taking it off the hook. "Special occasion?"

"Something like that," I tell her, not quite coming to terms with the fact that I'm here at all, spending thousands of dollars on a woman that hates me, and that I sort of hate, too.

"I have these open-toed stilettos that would look great with the Lorenzo. What do you think?"

"That's fine." I glance in the direction of the door, hoping like hell London doesn't get some random urge to come in here right now. According to her schedule, she's supposed to be at work. Perhaps she was meeting with Grace before and will be clocking in afterward.

"Can I help you with anything else today?" the store clerk asks me.

"No, thanks." I turn toward her, tapping my card on the screen as it flashes nine thousand something due. I made more money in the two hours I was drifting in and out of sleep last night, this is nothing.

"I'll put my card in the bag. If you ever need any assistance, I'm happy to help." She pauses and adds, "I'm Charlotte, by the way."

I force a smile and take the items from her, slipping out of the store and making my way back to the apartment complex. A window across the street catches my eye and I dart in front of traffic, not quite caring if they hit me or not.

A doorman holds his hand out to stop me. "Excuse me, sir. Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I don't need one." I stare at him, contemplating murder yet again. "Get your fucking hands off of me."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down." He puts both of his hands on my shoulders.

I react without thinking, taking my free hand to grab and twist his, positioning it behind his back in the blink of an eye.

He yelps and drops to his knees. "They don't pay me enough for this, really. Let me go, please."

"Sorry about that."I release him instantly, helping him to his feet. "Let's start again."

The doorman dusts off his legs and shoots a look into the store, no doubt hoping no one saw that happen.

"I'm Archer Sin. I don't have an appointment. Could you please check and see if they have an opening for me?"

His eyes widen and he averts his gaze, turning toward the door and unlocking it. "I'm sorry, sir. I had no idea. Please, come on in. Someone will be right with you." He pushes a button on the walkie-talkie attached to his collar. "Archer Sin is here, team. Please be advised."

By the time he's unlocked the door, four salespeople greet me inside, one of them taking the bags from my hands and another offering me a glass of champagne.

"I'm not thirsty," I tell him and scan the other clerks. "You." I settle on a rather timid, short female, not appearing quite as ravenous as the other three. "The rest of you, leave us be."

She blinks a few times and swallows harshly.

I snap my fingers at the person who has my bags from the other store. "Those stay."

The guy circles back, dropping them onto the counter before slipping into another room, out of sight.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Sin?" the woman who remains says.

"First, call me Archer. Second, I'm not going to hurt you, so whatever they told you in the twenty seconds it took to get me in the door, forget that. Third, what's your name?"

"Faith," she tells me.

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