"Think about it," Caine says smoothly, unfazed. "Just pool. Nothing more."
"You're treating me like property," I snap, finding my voice through the shock. "Like some... some whore you can buy!"
"That's not my intention at all," Caine says, his green eyes fixed on mine. "Simply friendly games."
I look at our stack of unpaid bills on the desk, their red stamps screaming past due, and think of Liam's therapy sessions and school fees. The weight of our growing debt sometimes crushes me, pressing against my chest until I can barely breathe.
“If you want me to play with you again, you really need to cool it with the flirting.”
“Promised,” he says with a smirk.
Reeves finally releases him and paces around the room, running his hands through his dark hair. His face is red with rage, but I see the defeat in his eyes. He knows we're drowning.
"This would be for my family," he mutters, more to himself than to us. "For Liam. For my dad."
I can barely believe what I'm hearing. Is Reeves actually considering this reckless plan? It's as if he's stepped into another world, one where the lines of propriety and fidelity are blurred beyond recognition.
He must trust me implicitly to even entertain such a thought. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would never betray him, never cheat on him. The very idea is repulsive to me.
Yet here we are, dancing on the edge of something that could shatter everything we've built together. My heart aches at the thought, but I can't ignore the desperation in his eyes, the defeat that's settled on his shoulders. We're drowning, and he sees this as a lifeline, no matter how tainted it may be.
Reeves cocks his head. "Tuesdays and Thursdays, from one to two in the afternoon?" he asks.
Caine sits up straighter. "Yes."
"Under my supervision," Reeves adds.
Caine shakes his head. "You didn't take your eyes off of us today. It was unnerving to say the least. I certainly didn't love it. I'd rather you were absent."
Reeves exhales loudly. "No fucking way."
"Well…" Caine starts. "What about if there were a chaperone at all times… what about that lovely young lady at the bar?"
I smile. I'll have to tell Liza he referred to her as a 'lovely young lady'. She'll get a kick out of that —it all sounds soBridgerton.
Reeves shakes his head. "No way. Can't trust that girl."
What?! What the hell is that supposed to mean? What does he think is going to happen at these pool games? Does he not trust me?
"Well, you can pick anyone of your choosing," Caine offers. "I just don't want to see your face."
God, these guys have a beef of some kind, and I really need to get to the bottom of it.
"We'll need to sleep on it," Reeves explains. "Let me make a phone call and discuss it with Jenna."
Well, there you go. So happy I'm involved in the decision-making here. What a load of ridiculous crap. There's no way we're doing this. Or is there?
I feel sick to my stomach, bile rising in my throat. How did we end up here, in this dark office, selling pieces of ourselves just to stay afloat?
CHAPTER SEVEN
I lie on the bed, staring up at the sparkly chandelier while Reeves paces the room like a caged lion. His heavy footsteps echo in my ears, a reminder of the tension crackling between us.
The familiar weight of anxiety settles in my chest. I turn my head and watch him, trying to get inside his head. This has got to be hard for him. I can see the muscles in his jaw working as he grinds his teeth—a habit he's had since I met him years ago. His face is flushed with anger.
"The fucking gall of that man," he seethes, running his hands through his hair. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"
"I know," I say, though my heart beats a little fasterat the thought of Caine's intense green eyes. "It's like I'm some object he can just... purchase time with."
