This doesn't make any sense. There must be more to this than he lets on. I just know it.
Apparently, he's fallen madly in lust with me, and he just can't help himself. This is a man who could have anyone he wants. Why would he waste his time on an ordinary mom with a few extra pounds around the middle? Yes, Reeves always says I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, but he's biased. And Liza always says I'm a total hottie, but she has to say that — it's bestie code — always feed the self-esteem.
The grandfather clock in the corner of the pool hall strikes two, the doors swing open, and in walks one ofour regulars. Phil comes and shoots a few balls nearly every afternoon, and he loves to chat me up. I could write his memoir, but that's what a bartender's job is — listening to the customers drown their sorrows. I always cut him off after one drink.
"Excuse me while I get back to my job," I say, matter-of-fact. “Thanks for the games.”
“Yes… ditto.” He shoots me a wide smile. “Where would I find your husband?"
"Probably in the office, or in the back room, I can go get him." I’m acting completely nonchalant, but I’m secretly dying to know what he wants with him.
I'm chatting with Phil at the bar when Liza taps my shoulder. "Reeves wants you in the office."
My stomach drops as I walk down the dim hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. Through the frosted glass panel, I spot Caine's silhouette next to my husband, his tall frame unmistakable in the shadows.
Something's definitely wrong.
The old brass doorknob feels cold in my palm as I push the heavy door open with a long creak.
"Have a seat, Jenna" Reeves says. His voice is tight, strained in a way that makes my back tense.
I perch on the edge of the worn leather desk chair,my heart hammering against my ribs. The tension in the room is suffocating, thick like summer storm clouds about to break.
Caine and Reeves sit on opposite sides of the old wooden coffee table in matching purple leather armchairs—these old, ugly chairs have been here for as long as I remember.
Caine doesn't waste time with pleasantries. "I'll be direct. I enjoyed our games today, Jenna. I'd like to make it a regular thing - twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Eight sessions total. One hour each." His words come slowly and deliberately, each one carefully measured.
I blink, confused, my fingers nervously playing with a loose thread on my jeans. "What?"
"In exchange, I'll waive the next two months’ rent."
The words hit me like a slap, making my cheeks burn hot. Twenty thousand dollars. For playing pool for eight hours? My mind races, trying to make sense of it while my stomach twists into knots.
Reeves slams his palm on the desk, making me jump. "Get the fuck out before I throw you out."
Caine's slow grin is wicked. "You know you'd love to, but you can't. You haven't changed a bit, Sullivan."
Wait?! What? Reeves knows this guy?
Reeves is just about to lose his cool. I can tell by the way he clenches his fists — it's a telltale sign. I always tryto cool him down when I see him like this, and today is no exception. I inch closer and take his hand. "He's not worth it. Whatever this is is not worth it," I say softly.
"You really want to destroy your father's business?" Caine asks. "The poor guy has owned this place for how long… thirty years? It'd be a shame to lose it."
I squeeze Reeves’s hand a little tighter. "Not worth it," I whisper.
"Too bad you took it over, and sank it to the ground,” Caine goes on, stoking the fire.
Seeing Reeves like this makes my heart race. When he gets angry, it's like a volcano erupting. I've never seen him this worked up, and it's terrifying.
He leaps across the coffee table, knocking over a plant in the process, and lunges at Caine. His fingers clutch Caine's collar, pulling him close. "You want me to fuck you up?!" he growls, his eyes dark as coal. I can see the veins bulging in his neck, and I'm afraid he might do something he'll regret.
I rush over to them, trying to pull Reeves away, but he's too strong. "Reeves, no!" I cry out, my voice shaking. "He's not worth it!" But Reeves is beyond reasoning. He's in a blind rage, and I'm not sure how to stop him.
I glance over at Caine, who's staring back at Reeves with a smirk on his face. He doesn't seem the least bit concerned about the fact that Reeves is about to pummel him. If anything, he looks amused.
This just makes me even angrier. I can't believe he's provoking my husband like this. It's infuriating. But I know I can't let Reeves hurt him. I have to find a way to calm him down before things escalate any further.
I reach for my husband and grab a handful of his shirt, but I can't restrain him. "Reeves," I plead. "Stop it. He's not worth it."
