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She caught my stony stare and instantly sobered.
Then Riker went and dropped the big bomb when he told Reese he couldn’t wait until tomorrow night, right before he asked her where she wanted to go.
I frowned in confusion, glancing back and forth between them, because it sounded a hell of a lot like they were making plans for a date…together.
With me sitting right there between them.
When Reese glanced guiltily my way before answering that she had no idea where she wanted to go, since she wasn’t familiar with the area, my suspicions were confirmed.
She was going out with this dipshit. On a fucking date.
Not sure how to process that, I just watched them as they finished making arrangements. Riker told her he’d see her tomorrow, and then he leaned down to stamp a kiss to her cheek.
She pulled back immediately, obviously surprised by the move, because she murmured, “Whoa,” which told me he’d never done that to her before. The only relish I found from the last thirty seconds was when Riker blushed, embarrassed about getting such a rejection. Then he glanced my way and hurried off.
That’s when his words from the night before echoed through my head.
You’ll pay for this. I’ll hit you where it hurts the most.
I focused on Reese’s flushed face and realized he really had hit me where it would hurt the most. He’d done what I couldn’t do; he’d asked Reese for a date.
And she’d fucking said yes.
Son of a bitch. Was Riker feigning interest in Reese in an attempt to get at me?
I’d kill him.
Confession #24: I might’ve possibly flipped my shit when Reese made her own confession.
“You’re going out with him?” was all I could think to explode. “Tomorrow?”
“Umm…” Reese cringed and guiltily met my gaze. “Yes?”
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
I suddenly couldn’t breathe so well.
If Riker hurt Reese because of me…
Oh, fuck. I’d been so worried about Patricia and watching for an attack from that direction, I hadn’t even thought of Ethan Riker angling to use her.
I was such a fucking idiot.
Reese looked so worried, so guilty, and I wasn’t sure how to handle that. I wanted to reassure her that I wasn’t mad at her—even though, dammit, I was kind of hurt and pissed after watching her make plans with another guy, right fucking in front of me. But I knew she and I couldn’t be together—I was a prostitute—so I fully supported the theory that she should live her life however she wanted, dating whomever she wanted. Except theory and reality were suddenly polar opposites, and this shit just sucked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“I…” She didn’t know how to answer. That hurt too. She’d purposely been hiding this from me. “Well, for one, I haven’t seen you since Sunday. Then I… I completely forgot about it until he showed up just now, and…” She shrugged. “By then, you already knew.”
“When?” I demanded.
She looked totally confused. “When what?”
“When did he ask you out?”
“Oh. Um…” She spent a moment thinking it through before saying, “Tuesday night. Why?”
