Page 89 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

It takes my eyes a second to adjust as they scan the room, searching and doing everything they can to locate her red hair.

My heart stops upon locating her, Grace sitting across the table. But it's then that I realize they aren't alone…Leo is there, too, and so is another man. I clench my fist, not even fully meaning to, and lean down to take a better look.

A round of cocktails is delivered to the table and London smiles politely at the waitress. The man next to London puts his hand on her shoulder and says something, but I can't hear him over the thudding in my head, my heart beating so fucking hard that it's in my ears.

I stand up and turn around, dragging both of my hands through my hair. "Calm down, Archer. She's allowed to be on a…" But I can't even say the word date out loud. It's like the word is forbidden from my vocabulary when it comes to her and someone else.

Is this why she asked for privacy? Because she had a feeling that I would watch and find out she was on a date with someone else? Why wouldn't she have just told me instead of lying by omission?

You ruined her last date, I remind myself, the memory of blasting through intersection after intersection on my motorcycle coming back in a flash. I ripped the window out of that guy's car and stopped traffic to insist she get out of the car and come home with me. And that followed me cutting the power to the restaurant she was in, but it was for good reason, that guy was being shady as fuck. I was doing her a favor and getting her out of harm’s way.

Who's to say this guy is like the other? Maybe he has good intentions. But who am I kidding, he's probably friends with Leo, which means he's not far from being scum of the earth. Leo is a playboy, rotating women left and right, only keeping them around just until the new starts to wear off and discarding them for another the second he gets bored. He's never committed to anyone longer than a month or two, and it won't be long until he does the same thing to Grace. I'd be concerned for her if I wasn't sure she's only dating him to piss Seven off, which is another thing entirely.

Do I love that Grace is icing Seven out and going behind his back to date his brother? Absolutely. Do I worry for her life because of how deranged my brother can be? One hundred percent.

Either way, she isn't my problem, and right now, the only concern on my mind is what London thinks she's doing with this guy.

I lower the volume coming out of my speakers; maybe that will suffice to give London the freedom she asked for. I'm just watching, not listening, that must count for something.

But when he puts his hand on her shoulder again and she smiles at him, I restrain myself from shoving my fist through the fucking screen.

I breathe deeply, in through my nose and out my mouth, attempting to calm my raging nerves. This shouldn't bother me this badly, and yet it does, which only pisses me off more.

The guy pulls his phone out of his pocket, glances at the screen briefly, and then puts it away, like he's hiding something.

Or he's being polite, the angel on my shoulder says.

I want to tell it to fuck off but it has a point. This guy would be an idiot for focusing on his phone instead of the beautiful woman sitting next to him.

A waitress approaches, a tray of oysters in her grasp. She sets it on the table and I rapidly press the volume button. London is a vegetarian, whose fucking brilliant idea was it to get oysters as an appetizer?

"Can I get you anything else?" she asks the table, her voice coming in faintly over my speakers. There's chatter from everyone in the restaurant but I can hear her enough.

"Let's go ahead and order," Leo announces and clears his throat. "I'll have the steak, rare, potatoes. The lady will have a grilled chicken salad with the house dressing on the side." He hands the waitress his and Grace's menus and I can't help but wonder if they discussed this beforehand or if my brother just became even more of an arrogant prick.

The waitress turns her attention to London and whatever the fuck that guy’s name is. "And for you?"

"We'll do the same," the guy tells the waitress

My mouth drops open. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Actually," London interjects. "I'll have the butternut squash ravioli. And a side of fries." She pauses and adds, "And another one of these." She holds her almost empty cocktail glass up.

Grace speaks up, "Scratch the salad, I'll have the same thing she's having." She winks at London and a weird sense of pride fills me at seeing these two defy the disgusting male egos sitting at their table.

It's one thing to order for a woman, but to take it upon yourself to make the decision that they need a salad is something else entirely. You figure out what your woman likes, and then you order for her, to be a gentleman, not a controlling asshole.

Moments like this make me embarrassed to be Leo's brother.

"Anyway," the guy says once the waitress is walking away. "Dig in." He puts an oyster onto the plate in front of London but she doesn't move toward it.

"Maybe I failed to mention it but I'm a vegetarian."

The guy looks at her for a long moment and shrugs. "It's an oyster, that doesn't count."

London's hand, which was resting on the table, carefully and ever so subtly puts the tiny little fork they give you for oysters into her palm, and she tightens her grip around it. I lean in, watching with bated breath at the possibility that she might stab this guy for being so fucking ignorant. Maybe letting London go out on dates isn't an entirely bad thing after all. But when she loosens her grip, that lovely mental image floats away.

"It counts," is all she says, reaching and tipping back the rest of her drink. "Where is that waitress?"

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