Page 87 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

My mind floats back to last night, the game London and I had played. If only I was able to take a shot instead of having this conversation with my sister. "I think she's getting an apartment in a few weeks. So not much longer."

I loathe the tightening that forms in my chest. How can I look after her when she's not living inside my apartment? Next door isn'tthatfar, but it's farther than I'd prefer.

"I have a bad feeling about her, Arch."

"You have a bad feeling about everything, Vee. You have trust issues."

"I trust you."

"Well, that's a given. I'm a pretty trustworthy guy."

"I don't know about all that." Ivy pauses. "Dinner, the Sunday after next. Can you handle that?"

"Where?" I ask her.

"If I say your place, will you promise not to go out of town or change the locks?"

"Chinese?"

"Keeps everyone happy. But maybe hide the booze from Seven this time."

Seven's drink of choice is tequila, although I don't think there's an alcohol he would pass up given the opportunity. And considering the dent London and I made in it last night, as longas I don't replenish it, he shouldn't get too fucked up with what's left. Maybe I'll go ahead and put a lock on the cabinet door just in case.

London comes out of the bathroom, her hair dried and in soft waves dancing around her shoulders. Even from this far away, I can see a light layer of mascara and a shade of lipstick I've never noticed her wear before. She avoids my gaze, going back into the bedroom and coming out with her purse a second later.

"I've got to go," I tell Ivy and hang up the phone, sliding it into my pocket as I hop up from my desk. "What's up?" I meet London halfway to the door.

"Just going to work." She barely looks up at me and unease settles over me like the cold of night.

"Oh." I take a breath in and exhale. "Want me to walk you?"

London adjusts the bag over her shoulder, still not quite focusing on me. "No. I'm good. I'll be fine." She moves to the door and I reach out and catch her arm.

"Is everything okay? Between us?" I want to punch myself in the dick for asking such a question. It sounds so desperate and pathetic and if I had a time machine, I'd erase it from existence.

"Yeah." She nods. "Of course it is. Sorry, a lot on my mind is all."

There's no denying that London is going through a plethora of shit, but still, I'm not convinced she's telling me the truth. And it isn't exactly my place to pry. Just because we have these moments of closeness doesn't mean we are anything other than strangers forced to live under the same roof. The sooner I come to terms with that, and I mean fully fucking grasp it, the better.

I guess I thought something in our dynamic shifted last night. I shared things I don't talk to anyone about, and maybe I'm an idiot for thinking it brought us closer together.

"I'm here," I tell her. "If you need to vent, get it off your mind."

"Thanks." London gives me a fake smile before slipping out the front door and leaving me behind to wonder where things went wrong.

Almost a week of awkwardness ensues as London does everything she can to avoid me. She's civil, but the most concerning thing is the lack of arguing with me every chance she gets. That's how I know with one hundred percent certainty something happened that she's not telling me. London loves arguing, getting on my nerves, and doing whatever she can to drive me insane.

But aside from only talking to me when directly asked or necessary, London hasn't made a single quip at me all week. She's even been picking up after herself and not leaving messes everywhere she goes.

I thought I would prefer it this way. The Archer who opened up the door to her bloodied and beaten was frustrated with her entire existence, but now all I want is for it to come back. I've tried poking to see if I could get something out of her, but she's put every wall possible between us and I'm at a loss for how to move forward.

I suppose the only thing I can do is leave what I thought we had in the past and focus on the task at hand—keeping her safe and getting her on her feet. I don't want her to go, but I can't make her stay, not when she clearly doesn't want to be here.

London has been in my bedroom for over an hour, getting ready for her date with Grace. Part of me is glad she's getting out and going and doing something with her friend, maybe that will make her feel better. And the other part of me wants to shake herand ask what happened, what went wrong, why she shut me out completely.

Although there's a larger part of me that wants to kick myself for caring and wondering why any of this matters to me. I'm getting exactly what I wanted. This was always a means to an end. London's stay was never permanent. And yet why does it ache this fucking badly?

The door to my bedroom opens and London steps through, wearing an olive-green dress, making her hair and eyes pop even that much more. I steady my breathing and pretend to type something on my keyboard, hitting buttons that don't do anything other than piss off my computer.

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