Page 23 of Hired By My Rich Baby Daddy

I gave her a dry look and rubbed my hand down my face.

“You sound stupid as fuck. I ain’t gon’ lie.”

“I’m not stupid, Ozy. I know women, and I know you. You liked that shit.”

“I like women looking at me. That’s not exactly breaking news, Gin.” I shook my head.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

I dragged my tongue across my teeth, already tired of the conversation.

“What I know is you came in there acting territorial over some shit that was never yours to begin with.”

Her whole face dropped like I’d knocked the wind out of her.

“Never mine?” she repeated, stepping toward me. “That’s really what you think?”

“Aye, move.” I pushed her back gently.

“After everything we do together?”

“What exactly do we do, Ginger?”

She stared at me like she couldn’t believe I asked.

“I’m around you all the damn time. I show up for every event, every appearance, every interview. I deal with the rumors, the blogs, and everybody picking apart everything I do because they think I’m your woman. Then I’m the one in your bed at night.”

“Nah… you in my bed some nights,” I corrected. “That ain’t the same thing.”

Her mouth fell open slightly.

“Okay, fine. I’ll take that, but… why does it have to be some nights?”

I looked away from her for a second because I already knew where this conversation was going. It was the same wall we kept running into.

She walked closer and grabbed my arm.

“Why can’t we make it real?” she asked, her voice softer now. “Your fans already think we’re really together. My fans love us together. We look good, we make sense, and we already?—”

“We already what, Gin?” I pulled my arm free. “Fuck whenever we both feel like it? Shit sounds sweet to me. I ain’t tryna fuck that up, and I ain’t tryna be locked down. You know this.”

Her eyes flashed with hurt, but I kept going.

“This ain’t a relationship. This shit is business mixed with sex, Gin. You signed up for that the same way I did.”

She looked like I’d slapped the shit out of her.

“But I want more.” Her voice cracked this time.

She looked away quickly, but I still saw the tears filling her eyes.

“I want you, Ozy. For real. I’m tired of acting like I don’t.”

I exhaled. Her ass wasn’t getting it.

Ginger wasn’t a bad woman. She could be spoiled, jealous, and irritating as hell, but I didn’t hate her. I cared about her enough not to sit there and feed her a lie because it sounded better than the truth. But I also wasn’t the type of nigga to baby a woman who knew what the fuck it was.

The studio had gone quiet around us, but I could hear muffled voices coming from the lounge. The winners were still out there, probably wondering what the hell was taking so long. The crew was waiting. I still had a whole schedule ahead of me, and instead of enjoying the weekend they had planned for me, I was standing here trying to explain the same shit to Ginger for the hundredth time.