Page 39 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"What about me?" Seven protests, throwing his arms out to the sides, the tequila bottle still in his grasp.

"And you, brother, are an alcoholic." August grasps Seven's shoulder on the way to the door, slipping out without another word.

Leo slips his gun into the back of his pants and tucks his shirt over it slyly. "I should probably get going, too."

"You guys are the worst," Ivy pouts. "Once a month, that's all I ask."

"What's once a month?" London asks her.

Seven leans against the back of my couch, his obvious stare glued to Grace.

Most women fold to Seven's passes, even if they're degrading and a bit repulsive. They're usually drawn to his dark hair, endless tattoos, and mismatched eyes, one green, one blue. He's got a sort of moth to a flame kind of vibe, only people don't realize it until he's chewed them up and spit them out. Seven really is the most psychotic of us all, making each one of us question our loyalty from time to time. He's unhinged, and if it weren't for Ivy keeping him in line, keeping us all in line, our entire empire would crumble.

Grace acts like he's some drunk at a bar, not bothered by him enough to give him a second glance. It's kind of comical, watching him shoot his pathetic shot and getting turned down.

"Dinner," Ivy tells London. "Once a month, all I ask of my brothers is for a family meal."

London stiffens next to me. "Brothers?"

"Yeah, Archer didn't tell you?" Ivy meets my gaze. "You ashamed of us, brother?"

Chapter 13

London

My entire body relaxes at hearing the words out of Ivy's mouth, and a second later, I'm realizing how fucking foolish I must look, hanging on Archer in some sad attempt to mark my territory for no real reason.

He's a grown-ass man. Even if Ivy wasn't his sister, what on earth gives me the right to act the way I am? I've known this man for a week, and we've both made it clear we aren't interested in each other like that. Perhaps it was the two mimosas I had at the coffee shop going to my head. That must explain it.

Or maybe it was the possibility that a girlfriend would be a reason for me to lose my safe haven and have nowhere else to go.

The shampoo and conditioner, it wasn't a girlfriend’s, it was his sister’s, which also justifies the feminine products in his bathroom, too.

"I have a brother," Grace adds out of nowhere, probably in an attempt to diffuse the weirdness of the situation. "He's older by a few years. What about you guys? What's the age difference?"

Ivy turns her focus to Grace like she's grateful for a question she can answer without giving too much away. "Seven and I are twenty-six."

"Oh nice, me too. When's your birthday?" Grace says.

"June ninth." Seven approaches from the living room. "Will you be my birthday present?" He tucks a strand of bright blonde hair behind Grace's ear, and she doesn't even flinch.

"In your dreams, lover boy." She takes one solid step away from him and looks at Ivy. "You were saying."

Seven hisses like he touched a hot stove and drinks down more of his tequila.

"Dude, really?" Archer goes for the bottle, but Seven’s reflexes are catlike, moving it and himself from Archer’s reach.

"We're twins, Seven and I," Ivy continues. "The youngest of us all. And then there's Archer, thirty. Leo's, um, Leo's thirty-two, and August is thirty-six. London, how old are you?"

"Aren't you not supposed to ask a woman her age?" Archer says.

"That usually only applies to men asking." I smile politely. "I'm twenty-three."

Ivy licks her lips and I know without a doubt that she's about to stir the pot even more. "Are you two hooking up?"

"Oh, yeah, good question, baby sis. I want to know if they're fucking, too." Seven leans against the wall, the bottle of tequila held firmly in his tattooed hands.

"No," I say before Archer can. "We aren't fucking. We're just…friends."

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