“For what?”
She motions to the screen, to the guards, to the pale gray walls that signify a dismal existence behind bars and plated glass. “For this. For you ending up in here.”
I lean back in my chair with my arms crossed in anger as I shrug. “It was bound to happen.
Her brows pinch together. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” My gaze hardens. “You’ve always thought it.”
She flinches. “I just wanted to say sorry,” she murmurs.
I tilt my head, studying her. “Letters would’ve done the same thing.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
“I might’ve even believed it then.”
The silence that follows makes me even more on edge.
“I don’t have much time, Poppy. Say what you need to say and then get the fuck out of here.”
Her head snaps up before she glances toward the door, fingers fidgeting in her lap.
“I really am sorry, Wesley. I never meant for you to end up in jail. I just wanted…” Her voice filters to a soft whisper, but I already know the words she’s chewing on.
“To make me jealous,” I grit out.
She instantly straightens. “No!”
Smirking, I lean forward. “Deny it all you want, Poppy. But I was there that night, and I saw what happened. You were using that guy as a way to make me jealous. You were mad at me for dancing with the redhead, and you wanted to even the score.”
“I didn’t care about you and the redhead. She wasn’t even that cute.”
Liar.
She twitches ever so slightly and starts picking at her skin, fidgeting in her seat like she can’t sit still. Instantly, my hostility eases off a tad. “Does your family know about your recreational activities yet?”
She blinks, mouth slightly hanging open. “Wh-What the hell are you talking about?” she stutters out.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Poppy. You may be able to hide it from everyone else, but not from me. So do they know?”
Her eyes flash with indignation.
“You don’t get to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Sit there acting like you know me.” Her grip tightens around the receiver. “You have no idea what my life is like.”
I laugh under my breath, but there’s no humor in it.
“I’ve spent years watching you and studying you, Poppy. All your mannerisms and movements. You weren’t okay that night at the club, and you’re not okay now.”
She stills.
“You don’t know anything about me, Wesley Dover,” she whispers, each word short and trembling with anger. “Nothing. Don’t sit there trying to drag my name through the dirt like you.”
My brows lift.
