Page 76 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

An entire minute passes and my nerves have done nothing but grow wilder. "London, I'm giving you to the count of three and I'm busting the door down." I hate myself for being this way. "One…" I pause and give her a chance. "Two…"

"Jesus, Archer," London huffs. "Hold on." She unlocks the door and turns the handle, opening it slightly.

I peer at her, inside the bathroom, and back at her. "What are you doing?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters," I all but growl. "Let me in."

"You're being a psycho." London keeps the door barely ajar, hiding herself behind it.

"And you're being secretive. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? Tell me and I'll make it right."

London narrows her gaze. "Are you listening to yourself right now?"

"Step away from the door." As forcefully as I can without shoving her out of the way, I push the door and step into the confined space, my sights scanning the room and searching for answers.

"You can't just barge in here and…"

That's when I locate the bag on the counter from a local hardware store and the thing sitting on top of it. I snatch it off the counter, turning it over in my hand and trying to make sense of what I'm looking at.

London hugs her arm to her chest and it finally clicks what's going on here.

"Let me see it." I hold out my hand and she reluctantly puts her casted arm into my palm, the edge of the cast snipped from the blunt-edged scissors she attempted to smuggle in here. A million thoughts run through my mind, like how could she be so stupid? Why wouldn't she go to a doctor? Why not ask me for help, or at the very least, someone else? She's going to hurt herself if she's not careful.

"I don't want a lecture, Archer," London says. "So if you're going to give me one, you can get the hell out."

"I'm not going to lecture you," I tell her even though I really fucking want to. Chewing at the corner of my lip I realize the only path forward is to play nice. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she snaps at me and pulls her arm away. "I was doing fine without you."

I ignore the strange sensation cutting through me at her jab and continue. "It's not an option. I either help you or you can get out." So much for playing nice.

"You wouldn't." London glares at me and I match her intensity, stepping toward her.

"I would." I put my hands on London's waist and hoist her onto the counter without giving her a chance to protest. "Now sit here and shut up."

Surprisingly, London doesn't disagree, and even puts her arm on her lap instead of hugging it to her chest.

"Good girl," I tell her and line the scissors along the edge of the cast. It doesn't take me long to carefully cut through the cast, pausing once I reach the end. "Are you in any pain?"

London swallows harshly. "No."

"I'm going to pry it apart," I tell her and hope like hell enough time has passed for her arm to be healed. If it were up to me, London would be in a doctor's office having this done, but I'd be a fool if I thought she would wait to let that happen. Once London makes her mind up about something, she stubbornly won't let it go.

"Okay." London keeps her eyes on her arm as I grip her cast gently, but firmly, and pull at the sides.

The cast cracks and gives way, revealing her frail arm underneath.

London loosens a sigh and brings her other hand over to caress the no doubt tender skin.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask her.

She nods rapidly. "I'm great." London extends her fingers and contracts them, turning her wrist over and bringing it toward her. "I feel like I just lost twenty pounds."

"You should probably take it easy with that thing for a while. Maybe get it checked out."

"Can you not ruin this moment for me?" London pushes my chest to move me away before hopping off the counter and unbuttoning her pants.

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