Page 39 of Keeping What He Wants

“It’s complicated. I’m trying to make things more legit, and it takes time. So are we okay?”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s too much. I would have been fine with a ten-thousand-dollar car.”

He took the papers from her. “Ella, you’re being difficult. Are you going to be like this when I give you a ring or we buy a house together? God help me if we ever have kids.”

“You said you didn’t want kids.”

“Nothing is ever foolproof.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, the price tag is too big. I don’t feel right. It feels pretentious. I’m walking around with a Gucci bag and driving an expensive car. Both of which my boyfriend bought me.”

“You’re a fucking doctor, Ella. You make a very nice annual salary. You can afford those things all on your own. Why does it matter how you got them?”

“Because it’s not me.” She glanced away, clearly upset. “I don’t have nice things.” She pointed to the living area. “The sofa has been mine since college. I only recently got a new mattress because my other one was worn out. I had it since I moved to Boston. I’m just not that person that wastes money on material things.”

He leaned back. “You deserve to have nice things, Ella. It doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone. It simply means that you work hard and you can splurge on yourself some.” He reached for her, smoothing his hand along her thigh. “And if I want to buy you something, I will. We’re a unit now, baby. You’re not on your own anymore.”

She wasn’t on her own anymore. She had to keep reminding herself of that. Ella stared at the key to her new car. She’d never had anyone spoil her. Not like Ryker. Her parents had provided for her, but they hadn’t gone overboard. She worked hard, and it paid off.

“Is this a normal thing for boyfriends to do?” She swallowed hard. “I don’t have a lot of experience. The fanciest thing anyone has ever bought me was a fifty-dollar box of chocolates.”

“I bet you had a panic attack over that.” He turned toward her and lifted her chin. “Let me put it this way. I love you. I’m going to take care of you. I’m not single anymore and I don’t want to be. What’s mine is yours. Don’t freak out over it.”

“It just seems weird.” And it did. He was the muscle and the protector in their relationship. If she needed help, he was there. Money was supposed to be her aspect of the relationship. While she never questioned exactly how he made a living, she knew his past despite his strive to move the club business to more legitimate opportunities. The cocaine distribution was one thing. He kept her in the dark for her own safety and ignorance, but she wasn’t exactly dumb. He used it. They dealt it. With Razor, his father, out of the picture, they’d supposedly gotten rid of it. Which only brought about more questions of what he did to earn money.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always worried about this stuff for myself. I know I can take care of my family. It’s weird when my family wants to take care of me.”

“You need to let that go.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll always take care of you. I’m not exactly looking forward to fighting with you about it though.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Do you trust me with your money?”

“No. But to be fair, I don’t trust anyone with my money.”

“I am responsible, you know.”

“I know.” She lifted the key to her car. “I’m extremely paranoid that someone is going to drain my bank account and then I’m going to be screwed.”

“Thanks, Ella. I’m glad you think I’m that kind of criminal.” She watched him walk toward the hall. When he returned, he had the package with the gun.

“I didn’t mean you. I meant in general.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’m leaving. Have a good night at work.”

“Ryker.” Ella stood and went after him. He stopped in the doorway and waited for her. “Please understand where I’m coming from.”

“I don’t.” He gripped the doorknob. “First you accuse me of buying your car with drug money. Then you suggest that I’d steal your money from your account. I have a rap sheet, but damn. Is that who you really think I am? Some kind of lowlife scum? Because if it is, I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

“I don’t think you’re lowlife scum. I’m trying to understand things better. I’m a tightwad with money. There. I said it. I don’t like spending it because I’ve never really had a lot to begin with. You’re the exact opposite. You just sign a check and buy a sixty-thousand-dollar car without even blinking. All because I wanted it.” She clenched her fists. “It gives me anxiety, okay. I get anxiety over paying a five-hundred-dollar payment. Forget thousands of dollars.”

“You grew up with money. Why are you scared of it?”

“I didn’t have money. My parents had money. I was raised to not expect anything from anyone. If I wanted it, I worked for it. I paid for it on my own, and I soon learned how expensive this life really was. I didn’t want the bill so I didn’t make the purchase.”

“Your parents didn’t spoil you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “My father told me that if I wanted to be a doctor that I had to pay for it on my own. He actually ended up paying for half, but he said nothing in life was free.”

And as a result, she had student loans to pay off. But she’d earned her degree and she’d worked hard to be where she was at. For many reasons, she thanked her parents for that lesson.

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