Page 46 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"Oh, yeah, for sure." Grace awkwardly gives me the rag she was cleaning with. "Here's this. Sorry again, about the chair."

I walk her to the door. "I'm sorry for my brother, he's kind of an asshole."

Grace chuckles. "Think so?"

"I think you're the first woman to not immediately fall for his charms."

"You call what he did charming?"

"You'd be surprised what kind of shit Seven can get away with and still get the girl."

"Well, don't worry, I'm immune to Seven'scharms."

"Never say never," I tell her, but secretly hope that she's right. Seven could use someone like Grace to balance him out, but he'd corrupt her before she even got a chance, and she seems like a pretty nice woman who deserves better than him.

"Thanks for the Chinese, though." Grace gives me a sweet smile and slips out the door.

I lean against the door, my back to it, my head resting on it. "What a shit show." I scan the room, searching for anything out of place that needs to be put back. The food remains on the table, a breeding ground for bacteria at this point. I'll need to go over the rug again to make sure the girls did a good job removing the blood, and go over the floor, too, both with stain remover and disinfectants.

My cheek throbs, the entirety of my face no doubt swelling up with each passing second. I should ice it to control the swell and minimize any long-term damage, along with popping a few anti-inflammatories just in case.

When did I get that table? Will I be able to order another chair? Or will I have to live with an uneven number? I guess I could throw the whole thing out and order a brand-new set. The idea of Seven's blood somehow getting overlooked and existing on something I eat grosses me out more than I care to admit.

I should tidy up and then shower, that way I can properly clean any of his remains off me prior to tending to my own wounds.

And then there's the matter of whatever the fuck London is upset about. Maybe she gets uneasy around violence, especiallyconsidering what happened to her recently. I must remind myself that not everyone grew up the way we did, so a fight like that isn't normal and is cause for alarm.

Do I comfort her? Do I leave her alone?

"One thing at a time, Archer," I whisper to myself and get to work.

It doesn't take me long to go over the mess we made, considering Grace and London made a lot of progress while I was tossing Seven's body into the back seat of his Rolls-Royce. He can worry about the stains in his seats himself, that isn't my problem.

I toss all the food in the trash, take the bag out, and throw it into the garbage chute. I go over the table three times—once to do a general sweep, another to clean it, and one to disinfect it.

My shower water is murky as the remnants of my fight with Seven get washed down the drain. I scrub at my hand, massaging the soreness of my knuckles, and recall the blows against his head. I was so fucking angry. I still am. Seven had no right acting like that. He's an arrogant asshole who has no limits. I'm his family, and somehow that doesn't matter. Although I wasn't exactly holding back either.

Taking a look in the mirror at my battered face, I tuck the towel around my waist. I scan my features, not alarmed by the swelling, having seen my face like this a million times before.

It's then that I realize I didn't bring any clothes with me, and London has shut herself in the bedroom. I guess I can't put off confronting her forever.

With a sigh, I exit the bathroom and make my way over, knocking lightly on the door.

"Go away," London calls out.

"I need some clothes," I tell her, the truth.

She grunts and a long second later, opens the door, stepping back to let me in.

I go over to my dresser and pull out a pair of boxers. "I'm going to put these on now," I warn her and drop my towel.

"Fuck, Archer." She shields her eyes and turns her back.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" I ask her and look for a pair of gray sweatpants.

"Not really. Do you?"

"Not really," I confess. My brother and I got into a fight, it's not a big deal, but that doesn't mean it isn't to her. "I'm sorry you had to see that," I add.

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