Page 54 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

I sucked in a breath, everything numb and lit on fire at the same time, my hands still around the wine opener jammed in my stomach.

He riffled through his liquor cabinet, knocking things about in his search for something I'd soon discover. A knife, meant for cutting the lime wedges he sometimes used in cocktails.

My father knelt down, something that took him great effort, and ran his gaze over me. "You have disobeyed me for the last time, London girl." He clicked his tongue before latching onto the wine opener and yanking it out. "Now, I'm going to fucking gut you. Maybe then you'll realize the error of your ways."

He didn't even give me a chance to process his words before driving the knife in, my lungs letting out a blood-curdling scream. Everything turned white, my vision betraying me. Maybe I shouldn't see this anyway.

He dragged the blade along my flesh like a child coloring outside the lines, tearing me open wider, and I screamed, wanting it to stop, wanting it all to stop.

I'd never wanted death more than I had in that moment.

But for the life of me, I couldn't give up, not yet. I don't know why I did it, I don't know why I didn't let him finish me for good right there, because living another day under his thumb would be reliving this day over and over.

Still, I was weak, and I couldn't take any more of the pain, I couldn't fathom the idea thatthiswas the way I would die. I had barely lived, why did he get to take that away from me?

That was the day I learned to think like him—saying the only thing I could think of to save my life. "Sell me," I sputtered. "Sell me to someone," I begged. "I have to be worth more alive than dead."

This made him pause, my idea somehow intriguing him enough to think about it.

He thought long and hard, so long I started to black out from the pain, but I clung to that silence, hoping like hell it might mean something other than my demise.

And so, he removed his hand from the knife, brought himself to his feet, and towered over me. "If you live, I'll consider it."

He spat on the floor and left me there, somehow with a sense of thankfulness that he chose the floor instead of me.

I wasn't sure if I'd have the strength to overcome what he did to me that day, but I wore that scar as a constant reminder that nothing could ever hurt me as much as he did.

I trace my fingers along the jagged edge and shiver the memory away, one I hate reliving but find myself facing every time I look at my naked body. Once I'm dressed, I return to the clerk with the dress in my hand.

"I'll get that bagged up for you," she says.

I ignore the condescending tone in her voice and nod stiffly. "Sure."

"Everything okay?" Drew asks me, his hand resting on my back.

"Mmhm," I mumble and shift away from him. He hasn't done anything wrong, but I find no comfort in his touch, and right now, all I desire is to be tucked away in Archer's room.

Chapter 16

Archer

Icannot fucking believe London agreed to go on a date with that…that…scumbag.

Pacing in front of my computer, I keep glancing at the street cameras showing me London while she walks back to my apartment complex with Drew fucking Kingsley, Camille's older brother.

I can't stand him and his stupid pretty boy face.

Do I know much about him to justify this visceral response? Not really, but my gut feeling should count for something, and I don't like the dude.

She shouldn't be going out with him, and she shouldn't be allowing him to walk her home.

They pause at the entrance of the apartment building and by the time I realize I don't have audio, they finish whatever they were saying, Drew taking London's hand in his to kiss the top of it.

"Fucking show-off," I mutter and wait for her to come inside before I close out the footage and pull something else up. Only, I don't have it in me to play pretend, so I shut the screen offand make my way over to the door, opening it when London approaches.

She steps inside, not saying a word, the garment bag in her grasp.

"Did you use the credit card I gave you?" I ask her, knowing damn well she didn't.

---