Page 14 of The Elusive Billionaire
“T—two hours?” she asks as I walk us around the porch to the outdoor shower, but I’m too angry to respond.
Savvy is a smart woman—her podcast listeners call her brilliant—yet she does the stupidest goddamn shit sometimes. It’s as though she never learned to properly care for herself.
“This is going to suck,” I say through clenched teeth. The outdoor shower doesn’t currently have any hot water. It’s on Cian’s list to fix, but my priority was finishing the smallapartment and putting in an elevator in the workshop of the detached garage for Moose first.
It’s the least I could do for the old guy who sold me his dream home that he had no intention of ever selling.
I walk us into the shower, turn on the spray, and do my best to get most of the mud off us as she gasps and shivers in my arms.
Instead of bothering with towels once she’s mostly clean, I march us straight into my house, up the stairs, and into my room and the attached bathroom.
She doesn’t protest or even make a sound except for her chattering teeth. Her condition is much more precarious than I first thought because Savvy Monroe will fight me to her death just for the fun of it if given the chance—it’s probably why I liked her so much.
But she ruined that, and I can’t do second chances.
Setting her on the bench in the large walk-in shower, I blast the hot water while hosing off my legs and torso, then adjust it so it doesn’t burn her. With my luck, the hot water would send her into shock or something.
I’m pulling down the showerhead, and her eyes widen when she realizes my plan.
And my entire being feels lighter as I turn the spray on her and hose her down from head to toe until she’s warmed enough to stand on her own and fight me for the showerhead.
“Stop,” she gasps as warm water splashes her face.
“Sorry, you’ve got a little mud…” I spray her in the face again. “Right there.”
Savvy stalks forward, the usual fire returning to her blazing green eyes, and rips the shower nozzle from my hands.
I simply smirk and walk away, not giving a shit that I’m soaking my floor.
“Hurry up. You’ve got a long walk home,” I call over my shoulder, then slam the bathroom door.
In my closet, I strip naked, tossing my wet shorts into the laundry basket and slipping on some lounge pants. A suit would feel like necessary armor right now, but I know putting one on will only lead to questions, and I just want her out of my home as quickly as possible.
And, because I’m not a complete asshole, I also grab Savvy one of my T-shirts and another pair of loungers.
I’ll never get them back, but it’s fine. The sooner she gets out of here, the sooner I can go back to reminding myself why I hate her in the first place.
She’s not going anywhere in this storm, you dingledick.
Opening the bathroom door without knocking, I ignore how she sits on the floor of the shower under the hot water—even though my stomach turns at the sight—and drop the clean clothes on the vanity for her.
“Don’t use all the hot water. I’ve got shit to do today.”
“Grey…”
Whatever she’s about to say won’t undo the fact that for months, she talked to me as Firefly12, that she broke my trust, or that she might have even broken my cold, dead heart.
This time, when I exit the bathroom, I slam the door so hard the walls around it shake, then I retreat to my office, where I can hopefully get lost in work while she figures out how the hell to get home.
My world no longer includes Firefly12 or Savannah Monroe, and I need to keep myself busy so I don’t forget that.
CHAPTER FIVE
SAVVY
This is nothow this was supposed to go.
I’d wanted to confront him at his office, but when I got there, his bitchy public relations lady told me he was working from home.
