Page 118 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

How fucking fortunate that Camille's place is right next to mine. I used to think this was a good thing, but at this rate, I'm never going to get her out of my system if she's living there for the next year. I'm going to have to develop some fucking self-control if I stand a chance.

"Yeah, so anyway. I was going to show her around and give her the keys. Do you want to come in with us?" Camille asks me, clearly having no clue that things are the way they are between me and London.

"No. I'm okay, I was just heading out." I point in the direction London is standing, needing to go past her to get downstairs. Even if I wanted to use the elevator, I'd still have to pass her. "Maybe another time." I start toward her, noting how London doesn't budge.

Camille walks toward her apartment, shoving the key into the lock. "It was good seeing you, Arch."

"You, too, Cami."

She slips into the apartment, leaving London and me there in the small space together.

"So much for never seeing you again," I tell London as I stop in front of her, my tone coming across more aggressive than I intend, although I'm not sure what I expected given my entire statement was rude as fuck to begin with.

"Shouldn't have paid the rent if you didn't want me living next to you," she retorts.

"It was before I found out the truth."

London shrugs. "You should move then."

"Excuse me?" I stare down at her.

"If you don't want to live next to me, if you don't want to see me ever again, you should move."

I don't say anything for a long minute, my brain trying to comprehend her words, her tone, her body language. "Don't flatter yourself," I tell her. "We were never that serious anyway."

"Yeah?" London narrows her gaze and leans in closer. "Then why are you so nervous right now?"

"I'm not nervous," I lie, although I'm not convinced nervous is what I'm experiencing. Utter hell might be more accurate. To be this near her and not be able to figure out whether I want to kiss her or kill her is torture unlike any I've ever gone through. "You're nervous."

"I feel nothing for you, Archer. Not love, not lust, not even anger.Nothing. Living next to you is going to be like living next to a ghost."

"If you feel nothing then why are you talking to me?" I ask her, knowing damn well she's lying as much as I am. I'm not entirely sure what I meant to her, but even if it was a fraction of what I felt for her, it's still more than nothing.

"Because you're in my way."

I step aside and motion for her to continue. "Be my guest. Don't let me stop you."

"You couldn't make me do anything," she mouths off before walking past me and into the apartment she's now calling home. London shuts the door, almost slamming it, but not quite. I'm sure she's being reserved because Camille is around, and she doesn't want to make a bad impression on her first day of having the place.

I take a deep breath in, exhaling it and coming to terms with the fact that I survived my first encounter with her since our big fight. If I'm being honest, I wasn't sure if I'd ever see London again, and despite those being my last words to her, that I never wanted to see her again, that doesn't exactly mean I wanted that to happen.

In that moment, one hundred percent. I was pissed. I had just found out she was lying to me. That she was the daughter of the man who killed Madison. Even if I could look past the fact that she was his daughter, how can I forgive her for knowing this and not telling me the truth? No matter how much I wish things could be different, I'm not stupid enough to think I could look past her deceit, especially after lecturing me that honesty was so important to her. She made me promise that I'd be honest, and how do I get repaid? By her lying to me about something that utterly destroyed me.

Madison's death was the catalyst that made me retreat into myself and realize that everyone I care about is put in danger because of my family's association with the criminal world. It's not enough that every single one of us is a killer, but everything we touch is tainted and compromised.

Loving anyone with the last name Sin is a death sentence where no one makes it out alive.

I rush out of the apartment complex, glad to be breathing air that she isn't once I'm outside. A body slams into mine, or maybe mine into it, and I steady their shoulders. "Shit, I'm sorry," I blurt out.

"Fucking prick," the guy mutters, brushing off his sport coat and side-eyeing me. He adjusts his collar, and I consider snapping his neck just for being an asshole.

My fingers dare me to move them, to snake them around his throat, squeezing until there's no life left in him.

He must realize I'm considering his demise because he does a double take and then darts away as if he could read my mind and see the images I was envisioning of him lying on the cold, hard pavement.

Ignoring every other person around me, I continue to the corner store and hope that Ruth will take it easy on me for not bringing London. There have been a few rare occasions that I've popped down without her, but this time is different, and Ruth will see right through it.

"Archie, honey, how are you?" Ruth tilts her head from the register to look past me. "Where's my girl?"

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