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“The foundation pays every other week.”

“Ah.” I lean closer until the tips of our noses almost touch. “No.”

“No?” She blinks. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like the way you think.” It’s about time she understands that all this—my money, homes, clubs, business—isn’t just mine. It’s hers, too.

Her teeth sink into her pillowy lip. “Is it the interest? I thought maybe I could do it interest-free?”

“No!” I put a piece of cookie into her mouth before she can say anything else. “This is all yours. If you want to invest in Bobbi’s bakery, feel free. Just tell Wei.”

“But you and I are just dating.”

Her answer slices me like a blade. Just dating. Transient bullshit that could end any time.

And then I realize maybe it is just dating to her, and the reason she can’t accept that what I have is hers is because she considers our relationship temporary. My stomach suddenly feels like somebody’s twisting a knife in it.

I wrap my arms around her hard. She hugs me back with a small squeak.

It isn’t just dating, not to me. I know of a more permanent way to bind her to me, and I’ve been avoiding thinking about it. It seems so wrong to push for it when I’m lying to her.

But the anxiety is dripping into my veins like poison, and I know there’s no length I won’t go to in order to keep her by my side.