Page 73 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"Right, yeah, that. The guy I work for has this acting gig, it's sort of a big deal. The project is contracted for a year, but it could be longer. Anyway, instead of hiring someone there, he offered to relocate me."

"Damn, he must like you." I test the temperature of my latte.

Camille shrugs. "Or doesn't want to have to train anyone else. Or doesn't think anyone will put up with his shit."

"That bad?"

"He is the most high-maintenance man I have ever met." Camille tucks her hair behind her ears. "I leave the first week of June and if I'm being honest, I haven't liked a single person I've interviewed."

"Oh?" I try not to come across as desperate, but I'd be lying if I said hearing that didn't make my entire body perk up. "How come?"

"I'm a vibe person, if that makes sense. And they were off."

"No, I get that," I tell her and motion to myself. "How are my vibes?"

"Not bad, actually." She laughs. "Doesn't hurt that I trust Archer's judgment, too. He's a good guy."

I want to pry, to ask more questions about him, but that would insinuate that I don't know him very well, and her understanding is that we're closer than strangers who got forced together a couple of weeks ago.

"He is, isn't he?" Archer isn't a terrible guy, that's for sure. Not considering the kind of men I'm typically accustomed to being around. And compared to my father, Archer is a fucking saint. A saint who happened to shoot a man in the head earlier this week, a man who is clearly hiding some big terrible secret that weighs him down to the point he's hiding out in his apartment and pushing away anyone who attempts to get close to him.

Who am I to judge him for what I have no idea about? Archer might be grumpy and get on my fucking nerves, but we both have a past that haunts us, and I find it strangely comforting that I feel like we have that in common despite everything else about us being so opposite.

"I met Archer a few years ago when he moved into the building. I was trying to drag a couch up the stairs. I can't tell you how many people walked around me without offering to help. It was like I was inconveniencing them, you know? Anyway, Archer, all big, bad, and scary he is, turned this couch sideways and carried it up himself. I was in fucking awe, I had no idea how he did it, but he did, and sure, maybe he did it so I would get out of his way and he could get to his place, but he didn't makeme feel like a burden the way everyone else did. I could tell there was something sad about him, and I was no stranger to that either. Throughout the years, he's just always been there when I needed him. Even if it was something stupid, like borrowing a screwdriver, or opening up a jar. He's reliable, and he offers help without ever expecting anything in return."

Camille pauses and I study her getting lost in her train of thought. I have half a mind to ask if she has a thing for Archer, but I don't imagine that will help my chances of securing her apartment. Instead, I let her simmer in her daydream and wait for her to return.

She blinks and her eyes meet mine. "You two would make a cute couple."

Her statement catches me so off guard I nearly choke on my coffee. I wipe my mouth and nervously chuckle.

"He seems to like you," Camille says.

"I'd saylikeis a massive overstatement. Archer tolerates me."

"How long have you two been hooking up?"

I almost lose it again but maintain my composure. Camille is nothing if not direct and I sort of love it about her. There's no beating around the bush, no leaving any thought unsaid. "We aren't hooking up," I confess, although it's not entirely the truth.

Archer and I have fooled around, but it was in a heated moment of frustration. It didn't mean anything. Not to him. Not to me. If anything, it was a careless mistake that shouldn't happen again. It would only complicate an already complicated situation.

Camille's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. "Could have fooled me. The tension between you two is palpable."

I nervously sip my coffee and beg my mind to settle on anything other than the feeling of Archer's hands on my body, his mouth on mine, his fingers buried inside of me, hitting me in all the right spots like he has a secret blueprint of my body.

"Sorry, I'm being nosy." Camille puts her hands up. "That's your business. We're here to talk about the apartment. So, it's a two-bedroom, eighteen-hundred-square-foot space. You'd get access to the on-site gym and an assigned parking space downstairs. I'm fairly certain I'll be gone for two years but guaranteed for a year. It's four thousand a month, which is a steal because the other units rent for closer to ten grand. My dad pulled some strings, that's why I want to sublease it to keep the contract in place. Otherwise, it would bump up to the full price. Hmm, what else?"

I take in all the information, skipping over the parking garage where Archer explored my body, and get caught on the four thousand dollars a month. The old me wouldn't have even blinked an eye, but considering I'm down to a little over a thousand and I don't have any money coming in, the realization that I might be too broke to live on my own hits me. When have I ever given up that easily, though?

"It all sounds so amazing," I tell her.

She reaches across the table and places her hand on mine, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. "I think we should do this, what do you say?"

My eyes light up, unable to conceal my excitement. "Are you serious?"

"One hundred percent." Her phone buzzes on the table and she glances down at it, her arm gliding across the table to swipe the screen open. "Go figure, I have to run. Duty calls." She stands without taking her eyes off her phone, rapidly typing something and practically slamming the send button. "We'll be in touch, okay?" She focuses on me, reaching out to give me a brisk hug.

"Of course. Thank you, Camille. I appreciate this more than you know. I promise you made the right decision."

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