Page 48 of Give Me Perfect Love

I mean, it’s not like he can’t afford to replace it.

I take my spot beside him as he flips on the TV. We watch the news and eat together quietly. They talk about stocks and other shit I don’t really care about. My mind drifts to my own issues, not Betty’s whose house caught on fire last night.

I feel bad for Betty, the seventy-year-old who’s in her nightgown holding two cats and has two more at her feet, but I just found out I have a father. My mother showed back up in my life after years of being a ghost.

My boyfriend has an anger problem. His mom is in the hospital in a coma because I neglected to tell the boys about her almost slipup.

The list goes on, and as I take my last bite and stand, grabbing Bryce’s empty plate, too, I realize I have a ton more problems now than I did before I met this guy.

Love doesn’t come cheap, huh?

I rinse our dishes and place them into the dishwasher before turning back around. Bryce sits completely relaxed on the couch. His bare feet are on the table, ankles crossed.

Dark jeans cover his legs, and he wears a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. My eyes roam around this amazing apartment. Sunlight pours into the vast room from the wall of windows. Dust-like glitter floats through beams of light. How did he get all of this?

I mean, I know Lee has money and I know Bryce borrowed from him to start up Red. But just owning a nightclub gets you not one but three homes? Two in the city of Atlanta and one on a ranch?

It’s crazy.

How much do I really know about him? He wanted to watch the news but seemed more interested in the stock market. Does he own stocks?

He reaches over for the remote and flips the TV off. Stretching, he looks over at me. His eye has only gotten worse, but his lip has scabbed over. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“I think we need to talk.”

“This sounds serious,” he says it playfully, but I hear the unease in his voice. We’ve been through too much to be completely comfortable with our situation.

“How did you get all of this?” I ask. I realize I’ve skipped everything I actually wanted to talk about.

And I know I’m diving into a pile of none of your business, but this man wants me to live with him. He loves me and I love him, but there’s still something off.

He cough-laughs. “What?” he asks, looking a little uncomfortable.

I wave my hand around. “This apartment, everything you have. It all came from owning a nightclub?”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, linking his hands together between his knees. “Where is this coming from?”

I shrug. “I’m just curious, is all.” The muscles on his back flex and his brow furrows. He bites his inner cheek.

“Curious,” he tests the word. “I told you how I got started. I do well at my club, and I have some investments. Like stocks and now your bookstore. Anything else you want to know while you’re being curious?”

I narrow my eyes at his tone, deciding I’ll ignore the attitude. I have a right to know how he makes his money. He has a bodyguard, for fuck’s sake. Why does a club owner need a damn bodyguard?

“Why do you need a bodyguard?”

“I’m a very wealthy man, K. It’s smart to have a bodyguard.”

“But you own a nightclub. I just find it strange. Is someone after you for you to need protecting?”

He exhales and stands up. “I don’t understand why you’re interrogating me all of a sudden, but honestly, I don’t fucking appreciate it. I have a bodyguard because I have enemies. People who want what I’ve got.”

“People who want what you’ve got? What? A nightclub?”

He doesn’t say anything.

I quirk my brow. He’s keeping something from me. “Bryce, what aren’t you telling me?”

He lifts his chin. “Nothing.”

---