Page 162 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"What's funny," I say, not a hint of humor detected in my voice. "Is that I negotiated my freedom and his silence."

She blinks up at me, her confusion completely appropriate given what I've filled her in so far.

"One thing I forgot to mention," I tell her. "Is that Blake Manor was in love with Madison, too. That's why it upset me seeing you two together at the gala. This whole thing, it's like I've been reliving it over and over." I draw in a breath and focus on the point I'm trying to make here. "He was convinced Madison was dead, too. I told him she was alive, and that I'd disclose her location if he held up his end of the bargain. Oh, the things a foolish man in love will do, even forsaking his oath to his family to chase after a woman who couldn't care less whether he lives or dies."

"I…" London struggles to find the words, and I don't blame her, but I can't continue to be in the same room as her, otherwise I might do something I regret more than what I've already done.

I stand from the spot where I was sitting, brushing London's hands off me and not even glancing in Joe Vito's direction, his fate sealed long before we stepped foot in this room. If it weren't London or me, it would have been someone else he crossed on his incessant rampage to gain power from places he didn't belong. I'll never live down the fact that I killed him, and sure, there will be consequences to my actions here today, but I've already lost everything once, and I don't really care if I have to do it all again.

"Come on," I tell London and make my way to the door. "We're going home."

"Home? Together?"

I keep my back to her, every muscle in me going rigid, my mind fighting with my broken heart. "We're neighbors, London." I pause. "Plus, I don't trust Seven to take you home."

"Oh." She follows me to the door and watches as I tuck the gun she brought here under my shirt. "What do we do about that?"

"It'll be dealt with." I open the door, holding it for her to walk through, and walk behind her to the elevator. "This way." I guide her to the stairwell and descend the stairs, all too late remembering that I came here on my bike and that our entire ride is going to be her body pressed against mine. I detach my thoughts from my body and pretend this is any other time when I put my helmet over her head, secured it, and helped her onto the bike.

I ignore her arms around me, her legs hugging my sides tightly, the warmth of her seeping into my entire body. I focus on her deceit, how selfish she was in choosing herself over me, how she trusted Seven and plotted behind my back. I remind myself that I hate her, that I have from the moment she stepped foot on my doorstep and that the only reason she's here is because Silver needed my help. She disrupted my life, my family, my every waking thought. London is a tornado, wrecking everything in her path, not a shred of remorse in her at all.

Holding on to that, I zip us through town, darting through traffic in a mindless state. It isn't until we're in the parking garage that I break the silence. I help her off the back of the bike. "Don't feel obligated to move. Your rent is paid up. I'll sell my apartment the first chance I get. In the meantime, I'll respect your privacy as long as you respect mine." I hook the helmet onto the bike and don't bother taking in the tears that still line her eyes because I don't know how much more of it I can take. I leave her there and jog up the stairs, desperate to put as much space between us as possible, my heart being ripped to shreds with each step away from her.

It kills me to leave her, but it would kill me even more to stay.

An entire week passes and I don't hurt any less today than I did then.

I haven't checked London's location and I haven't looked up a single surveillance feed to show me what she's doing. I can't bring myself to see her because if I stand any chance of getting over her, I have to move on, as much as it pains me. Part of me wishes she would have died that day, because at least then I would have had something to mourn instead of the betrayal I can't seem to stomach.

Madison gave me that—her death—something to hold on to and attempt to process. London left me with nothing but her hair in my shower and the scent of her remaining on my sheets. I can't do anything without being reminded of her, and despite my efforts, I can't help but think I'm leaving my apartment in shambles just to pretend like she's still here, haunting me in her wake.

My phone rings and I want to ignore it, but Ivy is persistent, and if I don't answer soon, she'll show up at my apartment.

I swipe the button and connect the call. "Yeah?"

"Arch, hey, finally."

"What do you need, Ivy?"

"I wanted to call and check in, see how you're doing."

"I'm fine," I lie. "Now if that will be all…"

"Don't hang up on me," she blurts out. "Aren't you going to ask me how I'm doing?"

I sigh. "How are you doing, Ivy?"

"I'm great, thanks for asking."

"Fantastic. Glad we got that out of the way."

"I'm worried about you, Arch."

I fidget with my phone on my desk, my computer screen blinking with the few open tabs of nothing in particular. I haven't gotten much of anything done lately, and it shows, because our finances have started to decline, and I don't have the will to figure out how to fix it. Even when MadisondiedI wasn't this out of sorts, and I don't know what to think of that. I was with Madison for six years and London and I were never truly together. Surely, I should be over things by now, but every time I glance in the direction of London's apartment, a pain jabs me in the chest.

"You have nothing to worry about," I tell Ivy.

"Why don't you just talk to her? Make up? She's not dead, Archer, but you're acting like she is."

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