How the hell Cassidy Logan got into my apartment is beyond me, so I feel the need to ask, “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Pretty sure I own the building.”
“Your father owns the building.”
“Same fuckin’ thing.”
My hands move up until my arms are across my chest as I sputter, “What do you want?”
“You.”
My jaw falls open in complete shock for the second time tonight. Frankly, I’m so shocked by her statement that my body’s not even sure if it’s interested.
Which is entirely preposterous because, if nothing else, Cassidy Logan is hot. I’ve definitely allowed myself a brief fantasy or three with her sassy mouth as the main attraction. Or her strong thighs squeezing my head as she sits on my face. Or her hazel green eyes darkened with need as she chokes on my?—
Focus, Rafferty.
I turn and point to the door. “Get the hell out.”
Once again, she smirks. “No.”
“Are you for fucking real right now?”
The smirk falls from her face, and she shrugs, not making any move to stand. She’s quiet for a few long moments, staring at me intently until I squirm and ask, “Well, are you going to do something?”
With a deep sigh, she sits up, leaning forward so her forearms are braced on the tops of her thighs as she looks up at me. “I need your help.”
“There’s not a fucking chance in hell I’d ever help you.”
“I think you will, once you hear me out.”
“I don’t want to hear shit.”
“Well, that’s too damn bad. Because I’m not leaving until you at least listen to what I have to say.”
“Or what?” I ask incredulously. “Are you gonna threaten me? Attempt to come up with some harebrained scenario where you can turn yourself into a victim to use against me?”
“Whatever I have to do.”
“You’re un-fucking-believable,” I spit out angrily. “You’ve gone out of your way countless times to cause trouble for me, and then you show up here uninvited in the middle of the night and threaten me in the hopes that I will listen to you?”
Her close-lipped smile is a bit sheepish, but then she nods. “Pretty much.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting her to just agree with my description of the situation, but here we are. I rub my hand over my face,groaning in frustration, but then I meet her gaze head-on. “Fine. But we’re moving this conversation to the living room.”
I turn and exit the room without saying anything else. I stride directly into the living room, turning on the lights as I enter, and I’m almost surprised when I stop beside the sofa and see that she’s actually followed me without comment. I motion for her to sit, and she does, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knee as she stares up at me. “Would you please sit down?”
“Why? You won’t be here long enough for me to bother getting comfortable.”
She rolls her eyes at me and huffs, “I don’t need you lording over me while I explain.”
The nerve of her to think she can break into my apartment and make demands of me. I grind my teeth, wanting nothing more than to grab her and bodily toss her out the door.
The other part of me wants to get my lawyer over here or even call a neighbor—any kind of witness I could call in a court of law to refute any outlandish claims she might make when I refuse her offer.
She continues to stare at me, obviously waiting for me to stop “lording” over her, so with another heavy sigh, I move to the far end of the sofa, where I fall onto it haphazardly and somewhat dramatically. “Is that better?”
She relaxes slightly and mutters, “Yes. Thank you.”
