Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(46)

When a full minute passed without her responding, he gave a resigned nod. “Right.” His jaw flexed. “If I have to leave to prove I’m not in this just for sex, I’ll go. Enjoy your night.”

He slammed the door to her room on the way out, but she could still hear the apartment door slam right through it seconds later. In a surge of anger directed squarely at herself, she grabbed a hairbrush off her chest of drawers and hurled it at King Kong.





Chapter 15



LOUIS SAT AT his office desk trying to murder a little blue stress ball with his right hand. He’d been at work for more than an hour and hadn’t even bothered firing up his computer yet. Last night had been much the same, minus the stress ball and shitty coffee. He’d paced the floor in his apartment continually talking himself out of going back to Roxy’s apartment and shaking some sense into her. No, his annoyingly wholesome other half had argued. This is the right thing to do. She thinks she has you all figured out? Well, f*ck that.

The idea had been to show her she was wrong. To prove he wanted to spend time with her that didn’t necessarily end up with her horizontal. Or vertical, depending on file cabinet proximity. Now he wondered if that rash decision to walk out had been a major mistake. Leaving her staring after him, bailing on her in front of her roommates, might not have sent the message he’d been going for. It might have just been the nail in his coffin.

He’d just been so f*cking mad. Law school had prepared him for just about every argument he would need to face, but he couldn’t argue with someone who was skeptical about his character. About him as a person. It hadn’t been easy to stand there and take it. At some point last night, roughly around one o’clock in the morning, he’d realized he might not be able to change her mind. That revelation had knocked him on his ass. There was a solution for everything, wasn’t there? He always managed to find answers and repair problems. What if there was no fix for this? Yeah, he hadn’t been looking for a relationship. But now he’d met this girl who made him feel a thousand different ways at one time, and he’d already formed an addiction to her. To those overwhelming feelings. And it might already be over.

This was his punishment, wasn’t it? For taking girls home without knowing their names and not bothering to get phone numbers. He’d set himself up for Roxy to take one look and peg him. Christ, maybe she was right. Maybe she was better off without him.

A phone call from his father this morning hadn’t helped. He still hadn’t gotten back to Doubleday about signing a new contract minus the pro bono work. Obviously his boss had clued Louis’s father in on the delay, probably wondering what the hell there was to think about. He wouldn’t get another job like this. If he voluntarily left a job at one of the top firms in New York City, potential employers would probably assume he had a screw loose. He thought of Roxy, the way she seemed to tackle everything on her own. What would she do in this situation? A smile ghosted his lips. She’d give them the finger and never look back.

Kind of like he’d done yesterday. The stress ball in Louis’s hand squeaked in protest. Yeah, he’d told her he didn’t play games, but maybe this wasn’t a game. Maybe it really was a genius plan. She would come around. Have faith, old boy. He snatched up his cell phone and grimaced at the blank screen. Apparently he’d reached the stage of Roxy-induced grief where he started deluding himself. He thought of her in the short red skirt, the way her mouth had felt moving on his skin . . . and he dropped his forehead onto the desk with a groan. Why hadn’t he just walked her backward to the bed, thrown her down, and banged her ever-loving brains out? So what if her roommates had been listening? He’d probably done worse somewhere along the line.

He knew why he hadn’t done it, though. This was Roxy. She was different for him. He felt it, felt her, everywhere. Moving around in his head and chest, ruining him for anyone else. God, please let this be the right thing.

Someone knocked on his office door, dragging him from a fantasy involving Roxy’s belly and melted rocky road ice cream. “Come in,” he shouted, grimacing at the misery in his voice.

His misery took a backseat to surprise when his future brother-in-law walked in. Louis was almost grateful for the distraction, until he remember Fletcher had almost gotten a lap dance from Roxy, which just sent him back to Miseryville on a one-way ticket, with a layover in I-Want-To-Punch-Him-In-The-Nuts Town. Still, why the impromptu visit? Fletcher had never come to see him in his office before, and as far as Louis knew, he wasn’t in need of legal counsel. Unless, of course, Lena had committed a crime, which was not outside the realm of possibility.

Louis stood up behind his desk and shook the man’s hand, trying his best not to squeeze hard enough to break fingers. “What’s up, Fletch?”

“Hey, man.” Fletched dropped into a chair and tugged at his tie. “Your sister sent me over. She’s making dinner tomorrow night and wants you there.”

“My sister is cooking?” Louis swallowed heavily. “Like . . . with fire and knives?”

“Yeah.”

They both shuddered.

Louis didn’t have to think about whether or not he had plans tomorrow night. Nope. His calendar this week was painfully empty, thanks to a certain stubborn, green-eyed actress. “Fine. I’ll come early just in case we need to reattach limbs or—”