Page 64 of A King’s Obsession

I stared at him, the excitement over the business offer suddenly tangled with something much more complicated.

“So that’s the condition?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“That’s what I’m putting on the table,” he answered, watching me carefully.

I looked past him toward the water, needing a second without his eyes on me. I could feel how badly I wanted both things. That was what made me nervous.

“I don’t want to be bought, Ezra,” I told him, finally meeting his gaze again.

“I know,” he answered quietly.

“You don’t know me well enough to know that,” I challenged, unwilling to let him make assumptions about me.

“Then tell me,” he replied, leaning back and giving me room to speak.

I turned back toward him. He wasn’t reaching for a phone or looking over my shoulder. He was waiting.

“I like being able to take care of myself. I like knowing where my money comes from. If we argue, I can’t be wondering whether I still have a job.”

His jaw shifted, and he nodded once.

“You keep your job if you tell me no tonight. I wanted to fire you. I didn’t do it.” He moved his glass aside. “And if we open that place together, we put the business in writing. You don’t lose your share because you pissed me off.”

I studied his face, trying to decide whether he understood what I was asking for or simply knew how to answer it.

“Then why tie it together?” I asked, still trying to understand his reasoning.

“Because I want both, and I’m telling you that instead of acting like I brought you up here to discuss staffing,” he answered, his expression completely serious.

That pulled a laugh out of me before I could stop it.

“You did tell me we had a meeting,” I reminded him, shaking my head.

“We’re meeting,” he replied, looking pleased with his own explanation.

“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered, fighting a smile.

“And you keep smiling at me,” he pointed out, watching my mouth.

I tried to stop. That only made it worse.

The waiter returned with our food, giving me a few minutes to breathe. Ezra asked what I would change if the bar was mine. I answered carefully at first, then caught myself explaining an idea with my hands while he listened.

My phone vibrated inside my bag.

“Why Westhaven?” he asked, watching me across the table. “What made you leave Rosemont?”

“Ashlynn,” I answered, hoping that would be enough.

His eyes stayed on mine. “She gave you somewhere to go. What made you need it?”

The phone started again. I pulled it out, saw Mama’s name, and turned it facedown beside my plate.

“Somebody you need to answer?” he asked, glancing toward the phone.

“No. I’m at dinner, ain’t I?” I replied, a little sharper than I intended.

“You are.” He set his fork down, letting my attitude pass without an argument.