Page 18 of Arden and the Girl Downstairs

I throw back the rest of my drink and wait for Ralph’s response.

Ralph: It’s my night off. I’m at Grumpy’s.

Ralph doesn’t drink often, so I’m thrown.

Arden: Why are you there?

Ralph: Ella decided she’d go to work tonight, so I’m watching her. I left her here. But an hour later I was back sitting in a booth, waiting for her to finish.

Arden: She what? She just got discharged.

Ralph: I know but she claimed she needed to work, so here we are.

Ralph: Shamus is working, he can drive you.

Shamus is Ralph's 2IC. Ralph hired him to take over the security here when he goes back to Canary Bay with Julia.

Arden: Thanks, I’ll text him. Enjoy your night off.

Ralph: Sure thing. See you in the morning.

I pull up Shamus’s number and send the message before pouring and downing another shot.

Arden: I need to go to Grumpy’s. Can you drop me off? You don’t have to hang around. Ralph is there.

Ella

“What the hell are you doing?”

I’m startled by the gruff voice behind me, and I jump back, spinning around to glare at the intruder. “What are you doing here?” I reply with as much sass as I can muster, given my heart is racing from being snuck up on.

“I live here,” Rhys says as he crosses his arms and leans up against the door.

I’m standing in the middle of their kitchen. “You aren’t supposed to be home.” I mimic his crossed arms and throw daggers his way. Yes, I know technically I’m the one in the wrong—I don’t live here. But still, he shouldn’t be back yet.

“Why are you here?” I almost yell at him. I can’t help it; I’m on edge from being caught red-handed in my stealth mission. Rhys could easily put a stop to this, and I desperately need to do something to get back at that Chuck Bass wannabe jerk for what he did last week. I can’t let it go. He had no frigging right to do what he did.

“Whoa, you do realise you’re inmyhouse, right? Why are you yelling at me?” Rhys goes on the defensive and holds his hands out like he’s trying to tame a wild animal.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” I huff, but continue on my mission to find the protein powder. I know Arden uses it; I see him leave the house with his stupid shaker in his hands most mornings.

“How do you know I’m not supposed to be here?” Rhys asks casually, walking further into the kitchen. “And what are you looking for?”

“I have a very reliable source who gave me your schedules.Youare supposed to be in a criminology lecture.” I slam the cupboard door shut. Nothing in here. Who needs so many stupid cupboards? There are cupboards everywhere in this kitchen—I’ve been searching for twenty minutes already. “Where’s the protein powder?”

I turn to Rhys and he’s staring at me weirdly. He looks like he’s trying to figure something out. After a couple moments, he still doesn’t respond. Instead, he walks over to one of the higher up cupboards I had no hope in hell of reaching on my own. He pulls out a tin of protein powder, puts it on the bench, and raises an eyebrow in question.

“Why aren’t you in class?” I ask as I take the lid off the tin.

“Who gave you our schedules?”

“Why aren’t you in class?” I ask again. I could do this all day. Rhys has no idea who he is up against.

“What are you doing?”

“What areyoudoing?” I respond again and look up at him. He almost smiles. Almost. Rhys is sort of scary, but at the same time, he isn’t. He has the bad boy look down pat, and I’m sure he has a smile that would melt panties.

“If I tell you why I’m home, will you tell me who gave you our schedules and what you’re doing inmykitchen?”

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