Page 18 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

I let out a laugh, a strange sense of satisfaction rolling over me. Maybe London is more capable of taking care of herself than I was giving her credit for.

It has only been less than twenty-four hours since she stepped foot on my doorstep, I shouldn't assume I know anything about her. London might not even be her government name. Not that it's any of my business—Silver was right, the less I know, the better. I can't afford to care about her outside of my promise to Silver. I don't want to earn a favor with him, but Silver is a great ally, and someone I'd like to stay on their good side. As much as I want to be out of the life, it's impossible when I keep one foot in the door and my family is fully immersed in it. I was the stupid one for ever thinking I could escape it by staying alive. Maybe one day I'll come to terms with what happened, but the wounds are too fresh for that day to be today.

My attention returns to London when she moves from her spot near the counter and back to the woman she left her bags with.

"You good?" the stranger asks her.

"Yeah," London replies. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I wasn't worried about you in the slightest." The woman pulls a chair out for London. "Here, have a seat." She extends her hand. "I'm Grace, by the way."

Grace is well polished, not a lock of her blonde hair out of place, her dress slacks perfectly pressed. Even from the view I have on my screen, I can tell Grace was born with money and privilege. She's conventionally pretty, but in a kind of way that screams politician’s wife.

"I'm London." She settles into her seat and takes a cautious sip of her latte, more cautious than she was this morning when she burnt herself. Perhaps she learned her lesson—has she never drank hot coffee before?

"You new in town? I haven't seen you around here before. Sorry, I don't mean to pry, I just feel like I know everyone who comes in here. Even Roger, the regular creep. He's mostly harmless, I'm sure."

London shrugs. "He paid for my coffee, that's all that matters."

"What did you say to him? He looked spooked when he left. I almost felt sorry for him." Grace drinks some of her coffee and pats the corner of her lips with a napkin.

"I may have threatened to tell the coffee shop he was a pedophile."

Grace's eyes widen and a giant smile spreads across her face. "You did not. That's hilarious. Wow. I think you might be my new best friend. Designer clothesandfearless. I love it."

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do…"

London tugs back the sleeves of her sweatshirt, revealing the cast on her arm, matching the one on her leg.

"Damn, you're worse for wear. Want to talk about it?" Grace spins the base of her cup, leaving a gap for London to fill in.

"Not really," London answers. "It's in the past."

Grace leans forward at the hip and lowers her voice. "Do we need to have anyone killed?"

I almost miss what she says because of the stupid fucking music.

I push a few buttons and shut it off, the barista near the register throwing up their arms as they say, "Wasn't me, I swear."

"Okay, that was nearly terrible timing," Grace adds.

London laughs. "Maybe your FBI guy heard you say that."

"MaybeyourFBI guy heard me say that." Grace nudges London's shoulder playfully.

If only they knew it wasn't either of their FBI guys watching, but the random man whose doorstep that London showed up on the night before.

Chapter 7

London

Grace is great.

She's sweet, but not too sweet, not in an annoying way. She's classy, even though I can tell it's borderline from necessity. We sat there for a while, chatting about brands and places we had traveled. She was in Milan last spring; I was there the fall before. Our paths have almost crossed quite a few times, but not enough for us to have run into each other.

I vaguely told her I was new in town, and I love that she didn't ask too many prying questions. I could tell there was a part of her that wanted to, but she refrained. It's like she knew when to persist, and when not to. She's very sensitive to the delicacies of knowing when to ease off, and if I had to guess, she's had training on the matter.

She gave me her phone number, despite me telling her I didn't have a phone at the moment, but insisted I get ahold of her when I got mine up and running, and that we should get together again. Grace mentioned that she comes to that same coffee shop every other morning around the same time, and that if I'm ever free, I could join her.

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