Page 37 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"Where do I start? Hm, well, you are super competitive, materialistic, arrogant, jealous, hypersensitive to criticism, you avoid responsibility like the plague, you're insecure?—"

Leo puts his hand in the air. "I think we get the point, Ivy." He shakes his head and mumbles under his breath. "I'm not any of that stuff."

Seven scratches his chin. "I think I have that, too."

"Is that a new tattoo?" I ask him, a design consisting of a bunch of dark angled lines that don't really make any one specific thing covering his throat.

He tilts his head, exposing the flaky area. "Yeah, itches like hell."

"You're snowing all over the dining room table, Seven. Go put some lotion on that thing," I tell him.

"Carmen was asking about you," Seven says. "Said it's been a while since she's seen you."

"I ran out of ideas." For a while, I did nothing but get tattooed, scheduling an appointment every few days, covering section after section of my body, hoping the pain would do something to ease the empty pit in my chest, but it never worked. And once I finished my arms and the front and back of my torso, I decided to take a break.

"Let's talk about what's wrong with August," Leo blurts out.

Ivy shifts her gaze to August, something concealed I can't quite make out being spoken between them. "Same as Archer. Control issues. Although Archer is a germaphobe and August is a workaholic with an unhealthy dose of perfectionism."

"You get one degree in psychology and think you're—" August blurts out, his tone no doubt surprising all of us.

I slide my phone back out, ignoring the argument between August and Ivy, rest it on my thigh, and watch the tracker dot of London stay in the same spot. My chest tightens at the thought of her having found the tracker and removing it. I franticallypush a few buttons and locate the Find My iPhone feature, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing it in the same spot, too. Maybe she has no idea I put it on there. Maybe she really is just hanging out in the coffee shop. That makes the most sense.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," Ivy says, pulling me from my own little world.

"Guys, seriously," I speak up. "Can we have one meal without fighting? We're all we have. Can we pretend like we like each other?"

Ivy grips her fists and shakes them loose. "Fine." She pats her dress pants and returns to her seat.

August immediately shifts the conversation like he wasn't just being a giant asshole. "How's business, Arch? Anything I should be aware of?"

Ivy rolls her eyes so aggressively I'm concerned they're going to pop out of her head. "Always business with you," she mutters.

August turns toward her. "Do you have something you'd like the rest of us to hear?"

Seven reaches for the bottle of tequila he brought to the table, takes a long swig of it, and watches things unfold. "I missed this."

"No, August," Ivy says, her tone laced with venom. "By all means, let's talk business."

"Investments are up," I tell him. "Finances are solid. We aren't taking a hit quite as bad as the West Coast sector but considering the fallout, things could be worse for them."

"And security?" August adds.

"Do you doubt my abilities?" I ask.

"Not at all, but I understand you've been under some stress."

"Some stress? Are you serious?" This time it's my turn for my cheeks to get hot with anger at August.

"I didn't mean any offense." August leans back in his chair. "It's perfectly within my nature to question the integrity of things."

The integrity of things, is he fucking serious? I've done nothing but keep our family affairs in order, how dare he question anything I do? He's lucky I'm still involved, let alone contributing in the manner I do. A thankless fucking job, that's what this is.

Seven slams the tequila bottle on the table, drawing all our attention toward him. "How come no one asks me about business?" He belches and follows it up with a hiccup.

"Because all you do is kill people," Ivy chimes in. "Tell me, what have you done this weekotherthan kill people?"

"I, uh…" Seven trails off and gets lost in his recollection. "Wait, I broke that guy's kneecaps on Tuesday. That counts, right?"

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