Page 62 of #Bossholes

Oh, yeah—I wasn’t.

They hypnotized me with their lips and dirty words.

They should be ashamed; I know I am.

It’s clear I’m not going to get anything out of Maverick, so I change course, stomping straight to Brantley. Clear, level-headed Brantley.

He’ll be on my side. He’s reasonable. Surely, he thinks this whole idea is ridiculous…even if he’s dressed as casual as the rest of them. And damn. I have to pause for a second and admire the view because I’m sure this isn’t one I’ll see again.

He’s wearing a pair of ripped jeans that do wonders for his ass and a T-shirt that has no business wrapping around his biceps like it is. No wonder he wears a suit all the time. If the girls at work knew he looked like this in a simple T-shirt, they’d be fighting each other to get to him.

Even now, I’m tempted to let him proceed just so I can sit back and watch his muscles flex like the needy harlot I am. But I won’t. I’m not.

I’m sure they’re dressed like this to throw me off, and I hate to say it’s working.

I don’t like it and right now, I don’t particularly care for them.

Plus, this entire thing seems very illegal. They’re lawyers, for fuck’s sake. They should know better. Unless Maverick and Wyatt are hoping they fucked the brain cells out of me last night. Which since I haven’t called the police is a real possibility.

“Brantley, what the hell is going on?” I stop beside him, hand on my hips, doing my best to keep from getting distracted. I’m angry, not horny. “What are you doing here? Who the hell are these guys? I’m pretty sure I can have you arrested for this.”

For several passing seconds, I don’t think he’s going to answer me either. His face is a wall of stone, completely unreadable, as he takes one picture off the wall and then the next.

I don’t know what possessed me to touch him, but I do, laying a hand on his shoulder. He tenses beneath me, but I keep it there. “Please.”

The word comes out as a whisper, but he rears back like I’ve slapped him.

Slowly he turns and runs a hand down his face as he sighs. “There’s a three-bedroom apartment below mine that’s empty.” He sighs again, and I can’t help but notice how his T-shirt stretches over his chest with every deep breath.No distractions, Kinsley. “You deserve to have your own space.”

Is he kidding me right now?

“What I deserve and what I can afford are drastically different things, Mr. Ellis. You can’t just move me into your building because there’s a room available.” My voice raises with each word, and by the time I’m finished I’m practically yelling. You’d think the guys milling around us would take that as a hint and stop, but you’d be wrong. I take a deep breath and count to ten. “I can’t afford it there.”

“Sure you can.”

“I’m not joking, Brantley.”

He crosses his arms, his deep green eyes searching my face. “Neither am I.”

“I’m not moving.” I cross my arms too, mirroring his stance.

“And I’m not asking, Kinsley. You and Colin need to be somewhere safer, and when he has his surgery, there’s a good chance you’re going to need help. We’ll be there for you whether you like it or not.” He reaches a hand toward me, but about halfway, he stops, his hand falling to his side. “If you don’t likeit, once he’s fully recovered, I’ll help you find another place. One where you canbothbe comfortable.”

My head is spinning, and while I get what he’s saying, it doesn’t change anything. I appreciate they’re thinking about me, thinking about my brother, but I can’t move. There’s no way I can afford a night in their building let alone a few months. All the money I got from my night with Wyatt and Maverick is going toward taking care of Colin, and I’m not going to make any more sacrifices where he’s concerned.

“This is too much.”

No one has tried to go out of their way to help me before, including my own parents. I don’t like it. I don’t know how to process it. I’ve always been on my own. These guys are heavy handed, demanding, and completely ridiculous. Also slightly sweet, but only a very small fraction.

“Don’t worry about it.” Maverick shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips. “I know the owner.”

“Is this your way of telling me you are the owner?”

That damn smile stretches across his face, momentarily distracting me from the conversation, but it only makes me angrier. I’m about to tell him exactly where he can shove this offer when Colin comes out, his eyes wide, taking in our apartment which is now in total disarray.

Great. Perfect. This looks terrible, and I have absolutely no way to explain.

Colin looks from Brantley to me, his brows scrunched together like he’s trying to work out a math problem. If he gets the answer, I hope he lets me know.Are we moving and you forgot to mention it?

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