Page 92 of Marrying the Billionaire

My fingers stab at the phone screen, a part of me sure that if they just speak to Archer, he can get this all sorted out, but it’s like the call function’s been disabled or something. It won’t let me make any calls.

I return it to the table, looking back up at them slowly. The taller officer’s eyes are a bit kinder, but both appear set in their mission.

“You can’t just kick me out,” I sniffle, tears forming in my eyes. “This is my home. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Listen, this call came to our captain from the commissioner himself,” the first officer says. “We don’t have much leeway here, and if you leave now, we won’t formally charge you with anything.”

I glance between the two, my mind racing, but what choice do I have? They’re cops and I have nothing to prove I live here, apparently. I nod, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “Let me just get my things.”

The shorter officer goes to shake his head and the other one stops him, laying a hand on his upper arm. “We don’t know what’s yours and what belongs to the owner of this apartment,” he says kindly.

The owner of this apartment doesn’t live here, I want to scream. Seriously, why does Archer’s dad want me gone? There’s no way it could be Archer himself. I couldn’t have messed things up that bad by admitting I love him.

Right?

I scrub at my eyes, trying to clear the tears away. “So you’re kicking me out without any of my belongings?”

The taller guy has the grace to look somewhat ashamed, but the other one has no such sympathy. “We’ve given you notice of your trespass. So are we doing this the easy way or the hard way?”

I firm up my jaw as best I can, and grab my purse and phone, praying they don’t tell me I can’t take those either. At least I hadn’t changed into pajamas yet. That would have been awkward.

The elevator car is silent as we ride back down all fifty floors, the lobby attendant’s face impassive as we exit. How do they always manage to be so expressionless?

“Miss Montague,” he says as I pass by. “Your key, please.”

I turn to him, the two officers at my side waiting patiently. “What?”

“I’ve just been informed I’ll need your key.”

Who informed him? Is this a conspiracy or something?

I fish my keys out of my purse, willing my hands not to shake again as I take my key off. “You always called me Mrs. Bishop,” I murmur as I hand it to him.

He nods in acknowledgment but stays silent as he accepts the key and places it in his desk drawer.

The shorter police officer indicates for me to keep walking, sticking by me until we’re fully out of the building. He walks around to the driver’s side of the patrol car at the curb, but the taller guy lingers for a second by me. “Do you have someone you can call? Money for a hotel room?”

The last ten minutes feel like a dream. Is this actually happening? “I- I’ll figure something out.”

“We can give you a ride if you need one.”

Where? Where do I have to go? I find my phone once more in my purse and dial Archer’s number, but it won’t do anything. Is it disconnected or something?

“I, um-” As much as I don’t want to hang around them any longer, I can’t afford to be picky right now. I give them the address of the shelter, ignoring their muted chatter from the front seat as we drive. God, if anyone saw me in this, I’d absolutely die. At least I’m not handcuffed.

I refuse to thank them for the ride as they let me out, and walk up and unlock the shelter doors, heading straight upstairs so the overnight worker doesn’t see me. At night, with no one else around, my desk is smaller looking than usual, and I set my bag down on it gingerly, sinking down into my chair.

I don’t even know how to begin processing everything. Seriously, what just happened? I pick up my desk phone, the dial tone reassuring, and look up Archer’s number on my cell since I still don’t have it memorized. Oh, crap. I didn’t get my phone charger at home. Like that was the main thing on my mind, though.

I punch in the digits, exhaling a long breath, praying he has some kind of reasonable explanation for me. A jolt of relief floods through me as he picks up, but my stomach drops as I recognize it for what it is.The number you have dialed has been disconnected, an automated voice informs me. I hang up and try again, but it’s no different this time.

There’s no way Archer’s phone is actually disconnected. He’s an important guy in his company. The freaking CFO. People have to call him. He didn’t… block me or something, did he?

I slam the phone down in its cradle, my jaw quivering before the floodgates open, tears pouring down my cheeks. What happened? We were doing so good. He said he wanted me, that we would make a real go of this relationship.

And then he skipped out of town after things started getting serious.

No, no. That was a coincidence. He had to leave for work.

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