Page 138 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

Trust me on this, I grew up with a fucking lunatic of a father.

He kicks me in the stomach, sending me onto my back, my lungsgaspingfor air. Tears well in my eyes and I can't help but wonder how much damage he re-inflicted that I had healed from following my time with said father. Just when I thought I wasfully on the mend, another dickhead man hurts me. I cough and hold my side as he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me a few feetintothe house.

Is this the way I die—at the hands of some guy I have never met in my life?

"Tie her to the chair, you imbecile," a familiar voice orders him.

The man complies with her, dragging me onto the wooden surface and securing my arms to the rungs. He backs away and sets my phone on the table by the door, his form disappearing and the woman stepping into sight a blur. I blink, trying to clear my vision, unsure of what I'm seeing, almost like she's a ghost materializing in front of me.

She traces my face withthegun in her hand, tilting my head up toward her. "London," shesayswith a grin.

I stare at her, those big brown eyes, that mud-colored hair. The last time I saw her, she was bleeding out on the floor in my father's study. She was pleading for her life. She was dead.

"Madison," I respond, uncertain whether I've finally had apsychoticbreakor not. There's no way she's standing in front of me alive and well. "I watched you die."

"You saw what I wanted you to see," she tells me, smacking my cheek with the barrel of the gun. "Funny, you did the same thing, didn't you, London girl?"

My nostrils flare andbeforeI know it, I'm leaning back and spitting in her face. "How fucking dare you."

Madison pinches her eyes shut and wipes at her face. "That was uncalled for."

"You're supposed to be dead."

"So are you." She taps the toe of her stiletto against the wood floor. At least it isn't covered in plastic, then I'd be really concerned. But what Madison has in store for me today isn't to kill me, it's to send a message, I'm just not sure what it is yet.If she intended on killing me, the room would be covered in plastic, making for an easy cleanup. No one wants to scrub blood out of a wood floor, never quite getting it all out of the nooks and crannies. I hate that I know this but find comfort in it all the same.

"I think you owe me an explanation." I fight the haze in my eyes and focus on her, confirming that she really is real.

"I don't owe you shit." Madison pauses and adds, "But I'd say a thank-you is in order. I guess we were both liberated when you killed your dad."

"I didn't kill him," I tell her.

"You were complicit and to me, that's all the same."

"This is a fucked-up way of saying thank you." I tug at the ties around my forearms and they dig into my flesh.

"How did you do it?" Madison asks me. "I heard there was a fire."

"What do you want, Madison? What's the real reason you brought me here?" I don't mention that I'm sure it has something to do with Archer, because why else would she have some weird fucking vendetta against me?

"It's funny, you know. The same man that helped me get away, is the man who thinks you're dead." She hits my face with the gun again and I wish like hell I could get free of these confines so I could shove the barrel in her mouth and pull the trigger, ending her life once and for all. Twenty minutes ago, I would have been glad to see her alive, but now, now I'm fucking pissed.

"You're boring me, Madison." I sigh. "Get to the point or shoot me and get it over with."

"You think I won't? Is that it?" She drags the cold metal across my face, pressing it on my forehead.

I lean into it. "Get it over with, bitch."

Madison pulls her arm back, hitting me across the face with the gun, my lip splitting open, blood filling my mouth.

I smile, red coating my teeth. "Is that all you got?" I spit again. "You forget who my father was, Madison. You can't fucking hurt me."

"You talk a lot of shit for someone tied to a chair." Madison taps her toe, clearly getting annoyed that I can't be bothered.

I stare up at her, raising my brows, daring her to fucking try me. "Either tell me what this is about or put me out of my misery. Why are you here? Why now? What's the connection to Vito? Stop beating around the bush, it's not cute. You don't do the whole hostage thing well, babe, sorry."

Madison huffs. "I'm here because you pissed off the man I owe a favor. It's funny, really, because you might have gotten away with it. You were this close." She holds her fingers up, showing what little space she can make between them. "I hear Ricardo is dead, so I come out of hiding. I pay Vito a visit, thank him for helping me escape, and he tells me Ricardo made a deal with him before his downfall, that you were to be his bride, but you had succumbed to your injuries. And I mean…" Madison brings the gun to her chest, pressing her fingers to her heart. "I was saddened to hear the news. I always felt a sort of kinship with you. I hated to hear that Ricardo took you with him."

I watch her feign sadness and hope she spits out the point to this story before she bores me to death.

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