Page 34 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

I join her next to the couch, towering over her shoulder. "Click settings, then phone. That'll show your number. But you need to be careful who you give it to, you can't just?—"

London pivots her body and places her hand on my shoulder. "Simmer down, big boy."

I glare at her. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Out." She opens her purse and plops the phone inside.

"What do you meanout?"

"It's Sunday, Archer. I've been out of your apartment once this entire week. I'm going out."

"It's Sunday?" The recollection of my conversation with Ivy hits me like a ton of bricks.

"Are you okay? You look like you're having an aneurysm." London squints her eyes at me and pokes at my cheek.

I gently swat her away. "I'm fine. That's fine. Have fun."

"That's it? No protesting? No lecture? You're going to let me go?"

"Mmhm," I mumble and take a peek at my watch, flinching at it being half past noon. I'm already thirty minutes late and I haven't even gotten ready yet. Ivy made it clear that she was sick of my shit, and here I am letting her down once again.

"Okay," London says, a hint of surprise in her voice that isn't lost on me. I don't have the time to do any of the things she mentioned. She's made it this far in life, I must assume that she'll heed my warnings and not be a complete idiot when she leaves my place.

"Don't leave town, please," I instruct her, the words slipping out too hurriedly. "Stay within a four-block radius."

"Are you going to tell me not to talk to strangers, too? Maybe not to get into strange white vans?"

My rushed nature halts and my entire body goes tense. "London," I say through gritted teeth.

"It was a joke, big boy." London pats my shoulder again, but it does nothing to ease the worry. Only, the wrath of Ivy comes creeping back in.

"I put my number in your phone," I say. "Call me if you need me." I open the front door and shut it a split second later. "Oh wait, hang on." I rush over to grab the spare key I had made for her off the stand. "Here's this." I hold it out to her, a sort of electric energy pulsing between us I don't have time to decipher. Perhaps it's my anxiety getting the best of me and nothing is there at all.

"You're being weirder than usual." London takes the key from me and slides it into her purse. "Are you on drugs?"

"I'm not on drugs."

"Maybe you should be."

I ignore her remark. "The access code is 2220."

"So original."

"I didn't make it," I tell her.

"I would hope not." London nervously motions to her body. "How do I look?"

I let my gaze wander, regretting it the second my heart skips a beat. "You look fine," I respond, my tone even.

"You sure have a way with words." London reaches for the door handle, and I reach for her, pausing her from going any farther.

"Be careful, please?"

"I will," she tells me, a sense of honesty lingering. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay. Make sure you use that card. Get whatever you want."

"Whatever I want? Okay, maybe you do have a way with words." She slips out the front door, a piece of me going with her.I fucking hate how she's crawled under my skin in the week that she's been here.

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