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“Please don’t leave,” she whispers.
“Are you begging me to stay?” I ask teasingly.
Her lips part slightly, and just as I’m waiting for her response, Josh appears behind her, face flushed with anger. He moves toward me, using all his strength to slam me against the wall. Billie screams for him to stop. His fists fly, and one connects hard with my jaw.
“Get out, Josh!” she yells as she rushes for her phone.
I throw a few punches into his cheek, but he trips me up. Moments later, we’re rolling on the floor. The front door bursts open, and when I look up, I see Brody. He’s livid, turmoil swirling in his deep blue eyes.
“What the hell? How did he get in here?” Brody yanks Josh off me, putting him in a headlock and guiding him out the door.
Billie locks it behind them as they start yelling at each other in the foyer.
“I should have you arrested for breaking your restraining order,” Brody threatens.
I furrow my brows, staring at Billie.
She steps closer, gently grasping my chin to get a better look at my jaw. “Wow,” she says, studying me. “Why are you helping me?”
“I need to go,” I admit, realizing my spontaneous decision was a terrible idea.
I pictured a nice pizza dinner, filled with conversation. Tonight has shown me that pushing boundaries with Billie is a bad call. Maybe Nick was right; I really do need a vacation because I’ve completely lost the plot. I am crashing out.
Billie moves to the counter, grabs the pizza box, and hands it to me with a sweet smile. “Thanks for the slice.”
I take it from her and open the lid. “Want another?”
“I’ll take the one on your plate. That’s enough.”
“Okay,” I say, forcing myself to walk away.
I head toward the front door, and she follows me.
I step outside, turning to respond. As I open my mouth to say something, she interrupts.
“Fuck off, Banks,” she snaps.
I give her a single nod. “Fuck off, Ice Queen.”
She slams the door in my face.
I try to hold back a smile but fail as I walk a short distance down the hallway and press my thumb against the reader of my loft. The one I secretly purchased after I took over my sister’s agency.
The knob clicks open. I step inside and flick on the lights. I’ve always loved the architecture of this building. The brick and exposed wooden beams are my favorite features. I set the pizza box down on the counter, no longer hungry, even though I was starving.
This loft, with its three bedrooms and four baths, isn’t a place I visit often. It feels empty inside, like most of the property I own—except for the townhome a few blocks away, which feels a bit more like home.
I suck in a deep breath and loosen my tie. I rummage through cabinets and drawers, even the fridge, which is stocked only with bottled and canned drinks.
As I shrug off my suit coat, a loud knock pounds at my door.
I look to see Billie with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She’s mad.
I crack the door open just enough to see her. “Can I help you?”
“You’re my fucking neighbor? Do you realize that for the past four years, I’ve been trying to find out who owned this place?”
“Mmm. What did you discover?” I ask. “That it’s an umbrella company within an umbrella company within another?”