He didn’t try to hide his displeasure at the sight of what was considered a decent apartment, as far as he was concerned, it was a dump. There was barely any space in the room, it was all mismatched furniture and canvases and paintbrushes. A table sat in the corner as what he assumed was the dining area, a demarcated area was set as the kitchen, and there was one other door in the room that probably led to the bedroom.
He turned his attention to her.
“Do you have a drug problem?” He asked, watching her face pale as the words left his mouth.
“Huh?” She finally answered when she found her voice.
“Do you have a problem I should know about?” He asked again.
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you live here? Is this the best that you can afford?”
“Some of us aren’t billionaires Wade.”
He watch
