Page 82 of A King’s Obsession

He is, until I tell him I’m not comfortable sitting around his house with no income and depending on him for everything. That wipes the amusement off his face.

Ezra closes his laptop and stands. “Go get dressed.” His tone changes, and I can tell he's already decided what we're about to do without bothering to tell me.

I glance down at my leggings and T-shirt. “I am dressed.”

“Put on some real clothes.” He grabs his keys before I can argue. “Come on. Let’s go look at your restaurant.”

Well, shit.

Ezra pulls up in front of a large brick building on a busy Westhaven street. Before I can ask if he already bought it, he tells me he hasn’t. He wanted me to see it first.

That alone quiets some of my attitude.

The place needs work, but the second I walk inside, I can picture what it could become. Tall windows cover the front, exposed brick runs along one wall, and the open floor gives us plenty of space.

I point toward the far wall. “The bar should go there. Keep the middle open for tables. I want it grown and sexy, but not stiff. Somewhere you can come on a date or with your girls, eat good, have drinks and actually hear each other.” I turn slowly, taking in the room from different angles while the ideas start coming together in my head.

Ezra listens as I walk through the space, only getting offended when I tell him it’s not going to look like Vice.

“What the fuck wrong with Vice? My club nice as fuck.” He looks at me like I've personally insulted something he gave birth to.

I laugh. “I didn’t say it wasn’t. But it’s a nightclub.”

“You said that shit with your face.” He points at me, shaking his head while I try not to laugh harder.

What I don’t say is how much I like that he’s actually listening to me. Ezra could’ve bought the building, hired whoever he wanted and handed me a finished restaurant. Instead, he waited for my opinion.

When he asks if I like it, I don’t have to think about my answer. “Yeah. I really do.” I glance around one more time, already imagining what the place could look like once we finished it.

His grin appears. “So I can buy the motherfucker?”

“Yes, but we are not calling it Vice 2.0.” I turn toward him, making sure he understands that part isn't negotiable.

“Ain’t shit wrong with Vice 2.0.” He spreads his hands like he's presenting me with the greatest restaurant name anybody's ever thought of.

I give him a look. “That name is horrible.”

He reminds me that I only own forty percent, and I remind him that I’ll use every bit of my forty to fight that ugly-ass name.

Laughing, Ezra heads for the door. “Then name the motherfucker.”

I follow him outside, still thinking about names, until I see the black Mercedes-Benz GLE Coupe parked near the curb.

Red interior.

Then I see the key in Ezra’s hand.

“No.” I stop walking, looking from the car to his face.

“You don’t even know what I was about to say.” He holds the key loosely between his fingers, already wearing that smug expression I know too damn well.

“Yes, I do.” I shake my head, refusing to move another step.

He holds the key toward me. “Come get your car.”

Instead of taking it, I look from him to the Mercedes. The building was one thing. This is something else.

“What are we doing, Ezra? You moved me into your house, replaced me at Vice, gave me forty percent of a restaurant, and now you bought me a car.” I look at him, trying to understand how he can keep making decisions this big without ever stopping to ask how I feel about them.