Page 17 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"Do you live around here?" London asks her and reaches for a couple of the bags.

Charlotte scoffs. "Yeah right,thisneighborhood? Too rich for my blood." She rips off the receipt and stuffs it into one of the remaining bags. "I'm in Hamilton Heights. It's not too far from here. You can take the A or D and be in Midtown in, like, twenty minutes."

"When you say too rich for your blood, what do you mean? How much are places around here?"

"I mean, you can't buy a studio around here for less than a million, and that's a fixer-upper. Something nice?" Charlotte laughs. "Who am I kidding, everything is nice in Manhattan. I'd say you're looking at over two million to buy something small. Five grand a month to rent something. I have one customer who pays eighteen thousand a month for a place a couple of blocks from here. Kind of depends on what you're looking for." She pauses and adds, "You looking for something?"

London shakes her head. "I'm staying with a friend for now." She takes the bags into her hands, struggling to hold them with her injured arm. She shifts them all onto the other. "Thanks for the help, Charlotte. This is a great place you have here."

"Of course, yeah, anytime. Don't be a stranger."

London lingers her gaze on the dress in the corner. "Hold on to that for me." She slips out the door before Charlotte can answer her.

I switch cameras, hating how the street views don't give audio, only visuals, and very shitty visuals, at that. Still, I can keep my eyes on her while she, hopefully, makes her way back here.

It's uncomfortable, watching her struggle with the bags, but I can't exactly run down there and help her considering she has no idea that I'm stalking her. I'm only doing it to keep her safe, though, not to be a creep. Silver asked for my help, I'm only following through on my word.

London slowly makes her way past the store where the girl was rude to her, and catches sight of something across the way. She waits for the pedestrian sign to change, and crosses the street, prompting me to change cameras again.

"Where are you going, little tornado?" I whisper as I hit the keystrokes on my computer and follow her.

London enters a coffee shop I've been to a few times; the bakery items are not so bad, and their coffee is what my oh-so-serious big brother would deem acceptable for his sophisticated palette.

It takes me far too long to gain access to their interior cameras, and when I do, I've already missed London speaking to someone. She smiles politely at another woman and says thank you as she leaves her bags behind with the stranger and heads toward the counter. Two men stand in front of her, the onedirectly in front glancing over his shoulder at her far too many times for it to not be blatantly obvious that he's checking her out.

"Hey, I'm Roger," he says and turns himself toward her. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure," London responds immediately.

I pinch my eyes shut for a brief moment.Why, London, why?

"I'll have a large cappuccino, dry, and whatever the lady is having."

"Vanilla latte, small." She keeps a bit of distance between her and the man but it's not enough to not give him the wrong impression. Men are stupid and think everything a woman does is an invitation for them to harass them.

But maybe she likes him. Maybe she wants to get to know this guy and have a coffee with him. Who am I to step in the way of what might be true love?

The cashier takes his credit card, and it only takes me the time they're waiting for their drinks to pull up everything there is to know about this man.

He's married, a teacher, and with more debt than he could ever dig himself out of and a very expensive porn addiction. I'm surprised the nine dollars’ worth of coffee didn't decline when the barista swiped his card.

"One large dry cappuccino and a vanilla latte for Roger," the bright-eyed, blue-haired barista calls out.

They each walk toward their drink, picking them up at the same time.

"Thanks," London tells him and goes to walk away.

"Wait, that's it?" Roger calls after her.

She stops and turns on her heel, facing him. "Yeah,Rog, it is. You bought me a coffee, that's it. End of transaction. I said thank you, what would you prefer I do? Strip out of my clothes and bend over the counter? Not going to happen. Now, if you don't want me to raise my voice and tell this entire coffee shop thatyou just made a lewd comment about the, no doubt, underage barista back there, I suggest you move along."

"I said no such thing," Roger says, his third mistake.

His first was asking to buy London a drink, and the second was implying she owed him something in return.

London takes a step closer, her entire demeanor intimidating despite how freaking tiny she is. She's like a Chihuahua. "Who do you think they're going to believe, Rog? You, or me?" Her voice is so low I can barely make it out, my hearing so fucking strained to listen in on this entire conversation anyway. Be great if she'd go to less crowded places. It would make my stalking easier.

Roger hesitates for a minute like he's considering whether London will follow through with her threat. "Crazy bitch," he mumbles before giving up and walking straight out of the coffee shop.

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