Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(188)

Making sure that Trap had enough food and water, I left a nightlight on for him then stepped out into the hall and right into Will.

“Shit, sorry! This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I’m a bit of a pro collider,” I said as I tried to quickly pull the door closed behind me.

Without a word, Will pushed the door open and stepped inside. His long stride made easy work of my apartment. I followed him, dropping my things on the floor by the entry.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking around.”

“I can see that. Thing is I didn’t invite you in. Can we just go?”

“Why don’t you want me to see where you live? I’m taking you to see my home.”

I didn’t answer. He was baiting me and I wasn’t in the mood. Instead I picked up my things and walked out. I couldn’t take him looking around and seeing how poor I was.

“Lock the door when you’re done and don’t let the cat out,” I said as I began wondering what his problem was.

Did he really need to control everything so much that he couldn’t just accept not knowing one small thing like where I lived? It slowly dawned on me that I hardly knew anything about him. For all I knew he was a designer too or a crazed serial killer who murdered unsuspecting tailors.

“This is ridiculous!” I said aloud as I entered my apartment again. “Will?” I called out. “Will?”

Trap meowed as he jumped off the couch. Will had taken his blue suit jacket off and folded it over the arm of the couch and sat beside it, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“You found me,” he said grinning.

“Not a big place. Can we go now?”

“Why? This is a great little place.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Its a shit hole,” I said as I looked around noticing the cracks on the wall and the peeling paint by the window.

“Its your own place though. I’ve lived in the same house most of my life.”

“If you don’t like where you live then move.”

“No, I have to stay,” he said as his face grew hard. “Let’s go.”

He got up and walked past me and out the door without a word. I grabbed my bags again and locked the door as I rushed to catch up with him in the elevator and hit the stop button.

“What is your problem?” I demanded. “I don’t even know why I followed you. I should just let you leave, I don’t need this.”

“Then go.”

He looked straight ahead, his expression empty of any feeling. Somehow I felt bad for him. He was taking me to his home. I knew he was very private and something about his home seemed to hurt him. He didn’t act like it but I couldn’t help but think he needed me.

“You can really be an asshole sometimes you know,” I said as I hit the down button and let the elevator doors close. I thought I saw him smile but it was so brief I might have imagined it.

Stewart stood beside the limo and opened the door for us as we left my apartment building. He took my bags and placed them in the trunk while we got into the car.

“I’m sorry,” Will said quietly. “I’m glad you’re coming. I don’t get many guests.”

Somehow I knew that was an understatement. I looked out the window as we drove, watching as we left the city.

“I hate to admit this to you,” I said, as I watched the passing scenery, “but everyday I hope you’ll show up at the store again. I hate that I don’t have a way to reach you.”

“Sorry, I should have left you my number. I would have been there more often, but I had a lot of business to wrap up,” he said then looked out the window. “This is it.”

I leaned over to look out his window and saw nothing but trees behind a tall stone fence. The car slowed and I saw we were stopped at an old wrought iron gate that slowly opened.

“This is where you live?” I asked stunned.

He nodded. “My mother found that gate on a trip to France. There’s things like that all over the property. She had a great eye and saw beauty everywhere.” He looked down, visibly upset before his face turned to stone again.

We were quiet during the several minute drive up to his mansion. It looked like something out of a movie with its gothic design and enormity. I thought places like this didn’t really exist, at least not as people’s homes.

Once we were inside, I couldn’t stop looking around. There were oil paintings and sculptures everywhere. Even a suit of shining armor. I felt like I walked into a museum.

“I can’t believe this is your home.”

He shrugged and picked up my bags which Stewart placed on the floor. “I’ll show you to your room,” he said.