Page 29 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"I saidno, end of discussion." Archer doesn't even glance my way, his lips pressed in a line, his eyes trailing whatever he's doing.

"You wouldn't have to worry about me finding out what's on your computer if I got the place next door," I tell him as I leave him and return to the kitchen where my new shoes and bags are.

He doesn't say anything, not that I expect him to. Archer isn't exactly one of those people who feels the need to get the last word in. His silence usually speaks volumes by itself.

I want to ask him about Camille, her apartment, and the lingering questions that remained when he left earlier in a hurry to get our coffees. Like what his actual last name is, and why he seems so strangely protective of talking about his siblings. Or maybe I'd ask how he knew my coffee order when I hadn't told him what it was. But I don't, because now isn't the time and I don't want to push my luck. If I'm going to continue living with him, I have to find the balance between annoying him and completely pushing him over the edge.

The next day

"Hey, how much do phones cost?" I ask Archer from my spot on the couch.

He shifts his focus from his computer to me. "What?"

"A cell phone. How much do they cost? I want one."

"Monthly, or the cost of the phone itself?"

I guess I hadn't thought there was a different cost for both. I've never had to think about money in the past, I just went out and got things, and my father paid for them. One of the perks of being under his constant torture.

"Both," I tell him and plop his iPad onto the cushion next to me. "And where do they sell them?"

"What kind of phone do you want?" He types on his computer, and I can't tell if he's paying attention to me or not.

"I don't know. What do you have?"

He doesn't say anything for a long moment and I contemplate throwing a couch pillow at him but I don't think I know him well enough to gauge how he would react. I decide to clear my throat a bit too loudly. "Hello?"

"I ordered you the latest edition, it will be here the day after tomorrow. The plan is included. Will that be all?"

"I don't even get to choose the color?"

Archer licks his lips. "I got you a gold one."

"Oh, well, I guess it'll match the bags."

"That's why I chose that color."

"You really think of everything, don't you?"

"I try to."

I almost laugh at his response, knowing damn well that Archer is a massive control freak, that's why he thinks of everything. It's hard not to wonder why he is the way he is, but I'd be an idiot to think I could ask him and he'd tell me the truth.

"Do you want some privacy?" I hop up from the couch and Archer glances in my direction.

"You're leaving?"

"I'm going to take a shower. Is that okay, big guy?"

Archer immediately returns his attention to the computer. "Yeah."

I roll my eyes and make my way toward the bathroom, my cast scraping against the floor. Counting on my fingers, I attempt to do the math on when I can get these things removed.

"What's today?" I mutter, unsure of how long I've been here. The days sort of melt into each other, and considering I spent the last few resting, I can't be certain how long it has been. Either way, I should only have a couple more weeks until I'm free of the obnoxious coverings. Maybe I should find a doctor, that way I can get them removed immediately instead of having to wait around on one.

The bathroom door latches shut behind me and I strip my clothes off as I head to the shower. I turn the water on and crank the heat up, the room filling with steam within seconds.

I sigh, stepping under the scorching water and tilting my head up, realizing that I need to wash my hair. I had been avoiding it since that first day, considering how difficult it was to navigate with my arm in a cast. Sure, I have access to my fingers, but they're not as strong as my other hand, and the cast sort of disallows me from having full control over them.

---