Page 154 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

Seven slaps the counter next to me on his way past, and whispers, "I'll keep your secret, don't worry." He moves into the open space and approaches Archer. "How's my favorite brother?"

"Don't start with me, Seven. I can't handle your shit right now." Archer walks right past him and into the kitchen, opening a cabinet, getting a glass out, and filling it halfway with water. He drinks it, not even acknowledging me until he's done. "Hey."

I sit there, in the same place I was having a conversation with Seven and attempt to not let my mind consume itself with all the things Archer isn't saying. Like how it went with Madison. If they're getting back together. If he's choosing her over me.

But even if he did, it doesn't matter, because I'm choosing me over him, and if he knew that, he'd hate me more than he already does.

Seven leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, one leg kicked out behind the other. "You done being an asshole yet?"

Archer sighs and leaves his glass on the counter, a sure sign that he's distressed. "You're right. I'm being a dick. I need your help."

"Holy shit, I never thought I'd see the day when Archer fucking Sin was asking for my help." Seven grins from ear to ear, showing both of his sharpened canines. He winks at me and starts toward Archer. "What do you need, big bro?"

He follows Archer over to his computer where Archer drops down into his chair.

"I need anything you can find on Joe Vito. I need dirt. Not who he's fucking, but who he's fucking over. I want a list of all his enemies and his closest friends. I'll work on combing through his business dealings. I need you to handle anything you canthink of that would provide me with even the slightest bit of leverage. I don't care who you kill to get it. I know we've beat this Manor brother thing to death, but I need something on them, too, preferably against the treaty." Archer rubs his temple. "And I need it like yesterday."

"I make no promises, but I'll do my best." Seven glances at his watch. "I'll be over tomorrow with anything I can find."

"Can you stay sober that long?" Archer leans back in his chair. "Sorry, I have to ask."

"You're a real prick, you know that?" Seven leaves it at that and walks across the room, offering me a parting nod as he slips out the front door.

I climb off the stool and go over to Archer but keep a little bit of distance between us. "For the record, he looked right in the liquor cabinet and chose a bag of chips instead."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And he was making coherent sentences the entire time he was here. I don't want to assume I know anything about him, but I think he was sober today."

"That's good." Archer runs his hand through his hair and intertwines his fingers behind his head. "That's really good."

"Are you going to tell me how it went or do you enjoy making me beg for information?" I hate that I want it but I can't stand not knowing the truth, regardless of how things end up with us.

"Right, sorry." Archer doesn't meet my gaze, instead, he stares off blankly into the distance. "It was so weird seeing her. It was like seeing a ghost."

"Yeah, it was."A ghost that shot me.

"She explained why she did it. Said she never meant to hurt me."

I chew on my lip, waiting for something to give me a fucking clue as to where his head is at with all of this.

Archer releases his hands and scoots his chair forward to grab onto me and pull me into his lap.

"What are you doing?" I ask him skeptically.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Archer wraps his arms around me and looks into my eyes.

"What?" A lump forms in my throat.

He slides a hand up under my shirt, his touch warm against my bare skin. Archer traces his finger along the outline of the jagged scar on my stomach, the scar left behind by my father when he fully intended on killing me—when I thought he killed Madison.

My lips part but I can't find any words.

"I should have never held you accountable for your father's actions. I should have stopped to think about how difficult it was for you to live with that monster." Archer's gaze darts to my lips, back to my eyes. "I don't blame you for not telling me, London. Especially not now, not knowing the truth."

"She told you what happened?"

"Some version of it. I don't know how much was real or not, and I don't know if I want to make you relive it just to fact-check her."

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