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The Billionaire's Proposal

Page 47

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But whether this was payback for that or simply him messing around, I didn’t appreciate it now. In fact, I had never been more pissed off.

“NICK!”

“In here!” he called back.

He sounded neither perturbed nor surprised that I had come calling, despite the early hour. But a part of him had to have been expecting it. Otherwise, why would he already be up?

I rounded the corner with my hands clenched up into little fists—ready to give him a piece of my mind—only to stop cold for the second time that morning.

Nick was there alright.

Sitting in a hot tub. In the middle of the living room floor.

My mouth fell wide open as all my pre-rehearsed responses flew right out the window.

I had just been here the other day—no hot tub then. On top of that, I was fairly sure that a living room hot tub was the kind of thing it was impossible to get a permit for. On top of that, I had no idea how he’d possibly managed to fit the thing through the elevator door.

“You...you have a...”

He blinked patiently back at me, up to his neck in warm, bubbling jets.

“Right in the middle of the...why is there...”

He nodded encouragingly, waving me onward with his hand.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, “use your feeling-words.”

I snapped out of my shock in a hurry, planting my feet firmly on the floor.

“Why the hell is there a hot tub in the middle of your apartment?”

He glanced down at the water in surprise, as if he had only just realized it was there. “It’s winter,” he said simply. When I gazed back at him in astonishment, he elaborated. “I got cold.”

I closed my eyes for a second, but decided to let it go. There were other things that needed my attention at the moment. There were bigger fish to fry.

“So guess what?” I declared, “I’m homeless!”

Nick’s mouth fell open in shock, his eyes growing wide with wonder.

“You’re kidding me—that’s terrible!” Before I could say a thing to combat him, he continued on with sudden inspiration. “Hey, I have an idea—why don’t you stay with me?”

It was a testament to how thrown I still was by the hot tub, that I didn’t go and try to drown him in it right then and there.

“This is a big shock to you, is it?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Not like you could have had anything to do with it. Oh, now I get it. Now I know why you said to enjoy Brooklyn while it lasted. Because you knew you were moving me out. You touched all my stuff!”

He waded toward me, cutting his arm through the foamy waves.

“Abigail, I’m offended that you would even suggest it. Of course I had nothing to do with touching your stuff.” He paused, hedging his bets. “I simply called the moving company, and arranged to have all your things put into storage...”

“NICK!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. “What the hell would possess you to do such a thing? I literally walked inside this morning, and all my stuff was gone! I thought for a second that I’d been robbed!”

“And that’s exactly why I did it,” he countered. There was no shame or remorse. Just the same astronomical level of confidence that carried him through, day by day. “You didn’t put on that necklace yesterday, because you were afraid of getting jumped on the curb. The curb right by your house,” he stressed, in case I was somehow missing his point. “Now tell me how, in good conscience, could I let you go back to a place like that?”

It was a sweet premise, but the execution was all wrong.

“How could you LET me go back?” I repeated incredulously, wondering in what state he would survive if I used my purse to bash him over the head. “It’s not up to you, Hunter! It’s my apartment! Understand?! Me! Mine! You have no business interfering like you did!”

He studied my face for a moment, measuring my rage, before shaking his head with a sympathy so contrived, he didn’t even bother to try and sell it. “I think you mean: I had no business interfering like I did. It’s already done, Abby. No taking it back now.”



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