Page 5 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"Well." She sighs and slides one arm out of the strap of her backpack. "Are you going to kill me?"

"What? No. Of course not." Not tonight, at least, but I don't mention that part. If she keeps getting on my nerves, I might.

But anyone who knows me knows that that's not true either, because even though I'm involved in illicit activities, I would never hurt her. Not after everything I've been through. I sigh as I realize that’s exactly why Silver sent her to me.

"Okay then." She drops her backpack onto the floor near the door. "Then it's settled. I'm staying."

I kick off the desk and stand upright. "Wh-what? I didn't say that. You can't stay here. I could be an axe murderer, for all you know. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to knock on random stranger's doors at night?"

She places her hand on her hip, jutting the thing out dramatically, and that gesture alone is enough to show me her true personality, not the one masked by the desperate pleas for a place to hide out. "You're not a random stranger. You're Silver's friend, which by extension makes you my friend. And friends let friends crash when they're homeless and in need of help. So tell me,Archer, are you going to kick this friend out?"

The way she says my name grates at me in equal parts satisfaction and utter annoyance, and I hate that I can't quite figure out which is more.

"We are not friends," I tell her, very matter-of-fact.

She shrugs and steps away from the borderline disgusting bag she left behind. She extends her hand. "Archer, London. There. Now we're on a first-name basis. That must be a step toward friends, right?"

I glare down at her, envisioning picking her up and carrying her back out of my apartment and outside. "How did you get into the building?" It suddenly dawns on me that she shouldn't have been able to.

She rolls her eyes. "I just did. Now shake my hand like a gentleman."

Reluctantly, I slide my hand into hers, noting just how fucking small she is in every way. A slight pang stabs me in the heart at the idea that someone could have abused her to the condition she's in now.

"Don't look at me like that," London says.

"Like what?"

"Like I might break."

Our hands, still locked together, linger between us, filling the awkward space. Finally, I release her and return my arms across my chest, the sensation of her skin on mine burning even in the absence of her.

"If you don't mind," she continues without letting me respond, not that I planned on it anyway. "I'd really love to take a shower." London tilts her head in both directions. "If you could just point me…"

"Right. Yeah." I march across the room, grab her bag from where she left it, and head toward the bathroom. "Restroom is through here. Uh, there're towels in that closet in there. Use whatever you need to. Do you, uh, do you have clothes to change into?"

Her face tenses, only just slightly, before she says, "No."

Whatever she was running from was so bad that she couldn't even properly prepare. I'm surprised Silver would send her off like this, but perhaps he didn't have a choice.

"I can get you something to wear," I find myself saying, unsure of why I'm entertaining any of this. "And while you're showering, I'll phone Silver again."

Her brows pinch together. "You'llphonehim? What are you, elderly?"

"Whatever." I don't know why everything she says annoys me, but it does, and the sooner I figure out what to do with her, the better. I'm not meant to have other people around. It's better when I'm alone. I pause before I shut the door behind me andclose her in, and nod at her arm. "Does that arm have a cast on it?"

London brings her arm toward her chest like she's weirdly protecting it. "Maybe. Why?"

"Because I don't think you're supposed to get them wet. Do you need to cover it or something?"

"No."

I gawk at her for a long minute before giving up. "Okay then." Dropping her bag into the bathroom, I leave her to find something of mine to wear. Given her visible injuries, I should probably stick to something baggy and comfortable. I quickly settle on a black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, snatching a pair of new boxer briefs just in case she needs something to wear under them.

Standing in the doorway, I watch her examine herself in the mirror. Her hazy gaze trails the finger she runs over her sunken cheek and peels the stuck hair off her face. Even battered, she's frustratingly beautiful and makes me wonder who could have treated her like this. Maybe it was an abusive partner or knowing Silver was involved, it could have been a boss of some type. Regardless of who it was, it doesn't change the fact that she's here now, and the sooner she gets cleaned up, the sooner she'll be gone.

"Here are these," I tell her and offer her the clothes. "The boxers are new, fresh from the wash. I didn't know what all you needed."

London comes over, her gait slower and rockier than it was earlier. I hadn't realized she was struggling so badly with walking until now. "You're nice for a grump," she says, taking the clothes from me.

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