Page 83 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

I ignore the way Archer watches me on my phone, his stare unsettling me more than telling him about my father murdering my mother.

Grace:Me and Leo. You and one of his friends.

"What's wrong?" Archer asks me.

"Oh, nothing. Grace wants to get together next week." I leave out the part that it's a date, because if I have learned anything about Archer, it's that he is too much of a control freak to let it go. He's made it clear he isn't interested in me in that way, so what's the harm of going out with someone who might be?

"She seems nice, I like her," Archer admits.

"Well, if you want to date her, you better get in line behind two of your other brothers," I tease him.

"I don't want to date Grace. I'm allowed to like someone withoutlikingthem."

"Are you mansplaining male and female friendships?"

Archer takes in a deep breath and I almost smile at how easy it is to frustrate him. "London."

"Archer," I mock. "Wait, let's go back to you being a billionaire. That was a joke, right?" I sip some of my tequila, noting how it goes down smoother than before, the telltale sign that I'm drunker than I realize.

"Do you want to see my bank accounts?" Archer drinks his tequila and for the first time all night, refills his glass. He keeps the bottle near him like he's hoarding it all for himself. He and Seven might not be blood-related but they sure are selfish with their liquor.

"I believe you," I say, despite being dangerously curious about Archer's financials. "How is that possible, though? What do you do?"

Archer shrugs. "This and that."

"Drink." I point to his glass. "If you're not going to tell me, you have to drink. That's the rules, remember." I laugh for no real reason, my face all hot and warm and smiley.

"God damn, you're pretty when you smile," Archer says, his glassy eyes meeting mine.

"So I'm ugly when I'm not?"

Archer frowns. "You know what I mean." He hops up from his chair and holds his hand out to me. "Let's dance."

"Wow, you really are drunk, aren't you?"

He sucks down more tequila and almost drops his glass getting it back on the counter. "I'm buzzed. Let me live."

I take in the mess he left behind on the counter, knowing damn well he's going to hate himself for that tomorrow. But that Archer can deal with it because right now, this Archer wants to dance with me.

Sliding my hand into his, he surprises me by twirling me to his chest, my body hitting his with a thud.

"Sorry, was that too aggressive?" Archer's words blend together slightly, the alcohol numbing his otherwise sharp, calculated tone.

"Not at all," I reassure him.

He moves me to the soft beat of the music playing in the background, a piano with a delicate melody. Our bodies fall into rhythm with ease, him leading me around his living room.

Archer twirls me around, dips me backward, and holds me close, our heartbeats in sync, our breaths mingling. I sort of wish there was a way to freeze this moment in time because as beautiful as it is, it won't last.

"Where did you learn how to dance?" I ask him, regretting it the second it's out of my mouth.

I feel the shift in his energy a millisecond before I see it slip across his face.

Archer slows down, his hands loosening their grip.

I try to hold him to me but I feel him slipping away. I want him to stay. I want to keep him close. I don't want to lose this momentary bliss where everything and nothing is right all at once.

"I shouldn't have asked," I say, hoping it will fix my mistake. My head swims with booze and desire and the things I want to tell him. That I understand. That I'm sorry. That he's not alone in his sadness.

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