Page 19 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

It was nice talking to her, refreshing even, to say the least. Better than the conversation I've had with Archer so far. He's hilarious to mess with, but he's frustrating, and I can tell we have nothing of quality to chat about. Plus, it's different having a girl as a friend, as opposed to a guy.

Awkwardly, I do what I can to carry the bags the few blocks back to Archer's, keeping my chin held high while walking past the store with the bitchy clerk.

Every inch of my body aches and yet I carry on, because what other choice do I have? It was my idea to go shopping a split second after I arrived, so if anyone is to blame for my shitty recovery, it's me.

Well, and my asshole dead father who did this to me.

I smile at the thought of his death, knowing I'll never have to speak to, engage with, or even just exist around him ever again. The world became a better place the second that man met his maker. If only I had been the one to do it, but despite the lifelong torment he put me through, I have no regrets about not being the one to end him.

My thoughts flicker to Cora, the girl who was the catalyst in ending his life, and how she must be doing. I wish I could reach out to her, but Silver's warning overrides that idea every single time. She's better off without me, and if I want to keep her safe, I must leave her, and my entire life, in the past.

Maybe one day things won't be like this, but I can't hold out hope that I'll ever truly escape the fate my father sealed for me when he sold me to Joe Vito. A fucking business arrangement, one that never even came to fruition. It was all for nothing, and somehow I'm supposed to honor the end of the agreement even though I had no say in it.

"Fucking bastard," I mutter to no one but myself and continue on my way to Archer's building.

It's strange to see it in daylight, the cityscape is much nicer when it's not dark. The street is relatively clean, and the buildings aren't as decrepit as I thought they were. It's sort of pretty, really, in a different way than things were in Los Angeles. There are more honking cars here, but the energy feels alive, nothing like it was back home. Plus, it was always so hot there. It's warm here, but comfortable, although I could do without the humidity.

I chew at the inside of my lip and trek the last few feet to Archer's place, loosening a breath and taking the entire thing in. It is much nicer than I thought it was, the details Charlotte gave me about rental prices coming back to me as I study it over.

Archer said he was in tech, but what does that mean? It's something illegal, which would explain how he can afford such a lavish place. Charlotte made it sound like a tiny studio was hard to come by, but Archer's is rather large for a one-bedroom. And everything appears to be new, like it was recently remodeled with the latest state-of-the-art everything. He claims he's been there a few years, but I beg to differ.

Hobbling, I make it up the steps and find the button I'm searching for. I press it and say, "Hey, it's me," into the receiver. It buzzes loudly a second later, Archer granting me access at record speed. Was he waiting for me? Or maybe one of his windows overlooks the sidewalk and he saw me coming.

In the time it takes me to finagle my bags through the front door, a large figure rushes down the steps and meets me.

Standing there, dark hair spilling over his forehead, his tattooed arms exposed in a tight-fitting white t-shirt, is Archer. He snags my bags out of my hands before allowing me to protest and turns around, making his way back toward the stairs.

"Uh, thanks?" I follow him and glance around. "Why aren't we taking the elevator?"

Archer barely tilts his head in my direction. "I don't trust elevators."

I narrow my gaze at his back and shake my head, not even wanting to dig into that one right now. Who doesn't trust elevators? How does that even make sense?

Archer practically leaves me in his dust as I all but crawl up the stairs. I'm slow, but eventually, I scale the last remaining ones. It's pathetic, I'm aware of that, but honestly, there's no point in rushing. It's not like Archer's apartment is going to disappear if I don't make it there in time.

But once I reach the top, I find Archer standing there, all my bags in one of his hands.

"Oh. I didn't know you were waiting for me." I have half a mind to add an apology, and yet I don't.

Archer opens the door with his free arm and holds it in place for me.

"Thanks," I tell him and cross the threshold, a strange sense of safety returning to me that I wasn't aware I was lacking until this very moment.

Archer drops my bags in his bedroom and returns a second later, completely ignoring me and going to his computer. He pushes a few buttons and starts typing away like his fingers are on fire.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment?" I ask him from my spot near the door.

His keystrokes pause and his jaw tenses. "No."

"Oh wow, he speaks." I make my way toward him, and he grabs his mouse and clicks something away. "You've got to stop being so weird about your porn, big boy." I stop at the edge of the desk and cross my arms over my chest. "What is it? What's your weird kink you're too embarrassed I'll find out about?"

"I'm not watching porn," Archer says, his voice weirdly monotone. Finally, after what feels like a small eternity, his gazemeets mine. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

I stare at him, unflinching. "Do you hate everyone, or just me?"

"Everyone."

"Cool, okay, so I'm not special."

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