Page 117 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

But my phone dings, vibrating on the table and drawing my attention.

Camille: Archer paid through the year. Didn't he tell you?

Camille: Shit, I hope that wasn't supposed to be a surprise.

Camille: OMG, if it was, I totally didn't tell you.

Camille: My bad.

Camille: But yeah, let me know when you're ready and it's yours. I'm leaving town later today, but I can leave the keys with Archer if you're not free.

My jaw drops open, unsure of how to process what she's telling me. There's no way. Archer would never do such a thing, not when he hates me as much as he does. Unless…unless he did it before things went bad. Which wouldn't quite make sense either, since he was such a control freak in wanting to keep me close and under his constant watch. There's no way Archer would willingly pay for me to move out of his apartment, let alone the entire year.

Only…what if Archer didn't want me there to begin with? He did tell Ivy that I was a means to an end and that he couldn't wait for me to be out of there. Perhaps Archer was only trying to make his life easier, and I never meant to him what he meant to me.

For the first time in weeks, I feel something other than sadness—I feel anger. Anger laced with betrayal. How could he have fooled me so badly that I thought I mattered to him? That I wasn't just some random hookup?

But when I think about his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, the way he looked at me, cared for me, loved on me…how could I have been so fucking wrong?

Chapter 28

Archer

Iopen my refrigerator and stare at the empty shelves, closing and opening it a second later, like maybe something will appear that wasn't there already. A half-eaten container of cream cheese stares back at me, no doubt mold growing considering it's been in there since London left. I haven't been to the grocery store in weeks, and if I don't go soon, I may have to resort to eating the contents of a ketchup bottle.

Running my hand through my hair, I sigh and slam the door shut. It's only a few blocks away, but the last time I was there, London was with me, and I know if I show up alone, Ruth is going to ask questions that I don't want to answer, not now, not ever.

I could go somewhere else, but that would involve me having to find another store, deal with a different clerk, and potentially be farther away from my apartment than I'd prefer. Ordering delivered groceries is off the table, the people never get my order right to begin with and I don't exactly want expired produce.

I just need a few things to get me by, it shouldn't take too long and I can be back in the confines of my apartment where no one can bother me.

Rummaging through a pile of semi-clean clothes, I throw a t-shirt over my head and sniff a pair of jeans, deciding that they will suffice for the time being. I glance toward my computer and consider stalking London to see what she's up to, to make sure she's okay, to keep tabs on her, but according to her schedule at the bakery, she should be there and if I stop to watch her, there's no telling how long it will take to pry myself away.

My stomach growls and I know that I must seize this opportunity before it's gone.

Slipping out of my apartment, I make sure the door is locked, tugging on it three times. I turn on my heel, starting toward the staircase when I hear voices coming from downstairs. I freeze but remind myself that it's okay, that I can handle strangers. I don't have to look at them or talk to them or do anything other than walk past and complete the task I’ve set out to do.

But when I'm a bit closer, and those voices come into focus, I realize I've made a grave mistake.

"Archer," Camille says once she's at the top. "Hey." She walks straight toward me, the person she’s with stopping dead in their tracks.

My attention flutters to the other person, my heart thudding in my chest.Fuck.

Our eyes meet at the same time and I'm overwhelmed by a million thoughts and feelings at once. My cheeks flush and I wipe at my brow.

"Hey," I reply, my voice catching. I clear my throat. "What's up?" I internally kick myself for not having checked on London, that momentary lapse in judgment costing me this entire awkward exchange.

Camille throws her thumb in the direction of London, who remains firmly in place. "Was just giving London keys to the place, making things official."

I blink once, twice, not fully processing the information she gave me.

London crosses her arms, doing everything she can to put whatever she can between us.

I hate it, every bit of the distance, but I hate that I hate it more, ashamed that even though I said I never wanted to see her again, I haven't been able to keep true to that word. There hasn't been a single day that has passed since I pulled up some kind of feed to check on her. I'm sick in the head and can't stop.

I should hate her, and I do, but that doesn't mean it's the only emotion I feel for her.

"Nice," I say, unable to come up with anything else. Of course, London is moving into Camille's…I paid for a year of her rent, and staying with Grace was probably always meant to be temporary, like her stay with me.

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