The accusation hangs between us. I can't deny it—not honestly. Instead, I look up at him, at the fire in his nearly black eyes.
"Are you jealous?" I whisper.
"Fuck yes, I'm jealous." His voice drops to a growl. "And I should be. You're my fucking wife."
Something shifts in the air between us. The anger is still there, but it's transforming into something else—something electric and urgent.
"I hated watching him direct you," Reeves goes on, kneeling in front of me. "But God, Jenny, you were so beautiful. So fucking hot."
He squeezes my ass hard. I gasp, surprised by the sudden shift.
"You're mine," he whispers against my neck, his beard tickling my sensitive skin. "No matter how many other men want you."
I thread my fingers through his hair as he pushes me back onto the sofa. It's been weeks—maybe months—since I've seen this intensity in him. He's fully present, completely focused on me in a way that makes my heart race.
His mouth finds mine, hungry and demanding. I surrender to it, to him, letting the guilt and confusion melt away under his touch. Tonight, there's no room for thoughts of Caine, no space for wondering what might have been.
Tonight, in our bedroom, there's only Reeves and me, rediscovering each other with desperate hands and breathless sighs.
"Mine," he whispers against my skin, and for this moment at least, I am.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I'm sweeping cracker crumbs from under the kitchen table when Oliver pounces on the broom, batting at it with his tiny silver paws. The kitten has been with us for weeks now, and despite Reeves’s initial resistance, he's become part of our family.
"Oliver, you little troublemaker," I scold without any real annoyance. His green eyes blink up at me innocently before he attacks the broom again.
I sigh and lean against the counter, watching him play. The morning light streams through the window, highlighting dust particles dancing in the air. My mind drifts back to Caine's studio, to the velvet chaise, to the click of his camera and his soft directions.
Turn slightly... chin up... perfect.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memories.It's been two weeks since the photo session. Two weeks of trying to forget, of focusing on Reeves, on Liam, on our newly improved finances. I should be relieved, grateful that chapter is closed.
The doorbell rings, startling both me and Oliver. He scampers away as I wipe my hands on my jeans and head to the door.
A courier stands there with a flat, rectangular package. "Delivery for Jenna Sullivan?"
My heart skips as I sign for it. I know exactly what it is.
Back in the kitchen, I carefully open the package. Inside is a sleek black portfolio. I hold my breath as I lift the cover.
The photos are stunning. Artistic. Sensual without being explicit. Caine has captured something in me I barely recognize—a quiet confidence, a serene beauty.
I've honestly never thought of myself as particularly beautiful, but I look amazing in these. In black and white, my curves look elegant, my expression mysterious.
These aren't pornographic at all; they're art; the types of photos I wouldn't be embarrassed to show Liza or Clara. Would I show them to my mom or my sister? Definitely not. They're way too judgmental.
A small cream-colored card falls out. A messy, sharp scribble:
Call me.
I slide down to sit on the kitchen floor, Oliver immediately climbing into my lap. My finger traces the letters as my thoughts race. Reeves was crystal clear about this—Caine is completely out of our lives now.
We made the deal, we got the money. It's supposed to be over, finished, done.
I remember the look in Reeves’s eyes when he told me — a mixture of relief and something darker I couldn't quite name. His voice had that edge to it, the one that appears when he's trying to convince himself as much as me.
But my phone is sitting right there on the kitchen counter, mocking me with its proximity. The sleek black screen reflects the kitchen light, almost beckoning my fingers toward it. The temptation pulses through me like a physical thing—a current running beneath my skin, making my fingertips tingle and my breath catch.
