Nothing was ok, but I couldn’t tell him that. He already thought I was some sort of pathetic invalid who needed care.
Iwas supposed to be taking care ofhim.
Not the other way around.
I forced myself to soften so he wouldn’t worry about me any more than he already was.
“I’m fine, baby,” I said, dropping a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m just going to, uh, go clean my gun.”
He nodded, accepting the lie, before turning back to the mess I had left him.
I watched him slip into‘Ryan mode’and bit back a smile. I loved how he looked at messes like they were tiny battle scenes that needed to be conquered.
My smile slipped away, however, when I remembered that he didn’t even think I was capable of washing a few fucking dishes.
Biting back a growl, I stalked out of the kitchen and headed up to our bedroom.
Well, I guess his bedroom now.
There was no way I was staying here like some sort of fucking charity case. I would get my own spot so he didn’t feel like he needed to support me out of some misguided sense of obligation.
It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how much of my funds had gone into eliminating Damian’s hits on my sisters.
Did I even have enough left to buy a house?
Worse came to worse, I could sell the g wagon. That would get me a few hundred grand…
But then what?
What the fuck was I going to do for money now?
Get a… job?
An unwelcome vision of me flipping burgers at the local McDicks floated across my vision, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
Not that I thought there was anything wrong with that. If that’s what I had to do to make money and support Naomi, I would fucking do it.
But what would Ryan think?
He was an established business owner, and I was an uneducated, broke ex-mercenary working a minimum wage job?
Would that be a turn-off?
I let out a growl, rubbing my hand down my face in frustration when I heard the door open. On reflex, I ripped my gun out of my waistband and pointed it at the intruder, only to immediately relax when I realized it was just Cassandra.
I rolled my eyes.
“What are you doing here, Cass? I thought you would be deep cleaning your condo by now.”
She snorted. “You thinkIclean the condo? I obviously hire out.”
I smirked. “Ah, yes. I forgot you don’t like rubber gloves.”
She flipped her glossy hair over her shoulder and wandered over to the desk by the window, running her perfectly manicured fingers over the antique wood appreciatively.
“They make your hands all sweaty. It’s bad for the nail beds.”
“Right.”
