Page 2 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

It's then that I find the sign I was searching for, confirming that I'm only two blocks away.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the faded piece of paper with the name and address on it, my heart aching knowing the end is near. That safety is near. That a shower and a bed and maybe something to eat is near.

Ricardo may have made my life a living hell, but he was filthy rich, and by extension, so was I. But if living the way I have this week is what gets me free of men who think they can control me, so fucking be it—I’ll gladly leave that all behind.

The streetlights illuminate the sidewalk through the hazy darkness of night.

I shake my leg, attempting to rid some of the water drenching it, and stare up at the building across the street. In my mind, I thought it would be grander, with a gated entrance and a doorman. But instead, it's a modest four-story building that blends in with the rest. The first floor houses a bakery with an elaborate closed sign on the door and a laundromat with flickering lights. My attention falls to the door to the apartment complex, but once I latch onto it, I learn that it's locked.

My chest tightens as I take in the panel of buttons I hadn't noticed until now. Scanning each of them, I settle on the number two-twenty-two, the letters A. S. in faded markings next to it.

Just as I'm about to muster the courage to reach out and press the button, the door to the building opens, a man nearly barreling into me.

"Christ, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." His features are soft and it's immediately clear that his apology is genuine. He's conventionally attractive, with his dark hair, his dark eyes, and his tall stature. He holds the door open. "Here, let me get that for you."

I stare a bit too long, so long that I forget what I'm doing here and that I do, in fact, need inside this building.

"You were going in, weren't you?"

I blink, hoping it makes me look more human and less zombie-like. "Ye-yeah," I manage to blurt out. "I was. It's been a long day, forgive me." My voice cracks more than I'd prefer, and I regret opening my mouth at all.

It's then that his gaze loiters on my body, a quick pass that gives him enough time to realize how terrible of a condition I'm in. "Are you okay?" he asks.

It's a simple question, really, one that I don't know how to answer.

So, I force myself back to reality. "Yeah," I tell him and step through the generous opening into the building, the air conditioning chilling my face the second I'm inside. "Thanks," I say as I continue forward, leaving him and that interaction behind me. Hobbling onward, I go straight toward the stairs, refusing to waste another second trying to locate the elevator.

I limp my way up three stairs, hating my decision more and more with each labored movement. I catch my breath at the top, my good hand gripping the railing until my knuckles turn white. I've come this far; I can't give up yet.

Stumbling, I glance at each door, wishing like hell the next would be two-twenty-two. It isn't until I reach the second to last door that I find my safe haven.

My hand twitches, my fingers flexing before they ball into a fist.

With a final exhale, I knock on the door and await my fate.

Thirty seconds go by.

Then another thirty.

I knock again, this time a bit harder.

There's shuffling coming from inside, a clear indicator someone is in there.

Surely Silver told them when I'd be arriving. Shouldn't they be expecting me?

No answer.

My heart picks up its pace, so I pound on the door with the side of my fist.

A grunt is followed by the sound of locks clinking, and then the door opens.

What awaits me on the other side is nothing I could have ever imagined.

"Can I help you?" His voice is masked with irritation.

I look up at him as he presses one tattooed arm to the doorframe and holds the door barely ajar. And when I say lookup at him, I mean look up at him. My neck tilts so aggressively that I'm not convinced I haven't reinjured myself. He must be six-foot-five at the very least.

His dark hair spills over onto his forehead, the color somehow matching his deeply intense stare. His jaw tenses. "I said, can I help you?"

---