He sighs a little too loudly. "You should stay out of what doesn't concern you, little girl."
"And you should go fuck yourself, little boy."
At those words, he spins around and heads right into the office—a much better option than what I suspect he really wants to do—punch me in the face.
I smile, but I'm certainly not looking forward to the rest of the day, stuck in here with this prick.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I push the green beans around my plate, my appetite gone. Across the table, Reeves shovels food into his mouth while Liam plays with his. The kitchen feels too warm, too small, like the walls are closing in on me.
"So next week’s the last session with Mr. Moneybags, right?" Reeves asks, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
"Yeah," I mumble. “Just one more.”
The memory of Caine's lips on mine burns through my body. I can still feel his breath on my neck, his fingers... I gulp water, trying to drown the guilt rising in my throat. I lost control, and I hate myself for it. It was just… when I found out what Reeves did to the poor man, I was livid. The whole thing was a big 'fuck you' to Reeves.
"Good. Then we're done with him."
I set my glass down harder than intended. "Why did you lie to me about Caine?"
Reeves freezes mid-chew. "What?"
"He told me what happened. How you and Greg beat him up and put him in the hospital when he was younger."
"Is that what he told you?" Reeves laughs, but there's no humor in it. "And you believe him?"
"Did you do it or not?"
Reeves slams his palm on the table. Liam jumps, his fork clattering to the floor.
"Daddy mad," Liam whispers, eyes wide.
"It's okay, sweetie,” I soothe, reaching for his hand. To Reeves, I hiss, "You're scaring him."
Reeves takes a deep breath. "Look, you don't know what you're talking about. Whatever happened back then, you weren't there."
"So you did hurt him.”
"He was hustling us! Taking our money! Acting all superior with his fancy clothes and his 'natural talent.'" He makes air quotes, his face reddening. "And now what? You think he cares about you? Wake up, Jenna! He's playing you."
"You don't know that."
"The guy's a multi-millionaire, for Christ's sake! He could have any woman he wants. Models, actresses—you name it. You think he's interested in a small-townbartender with a kid? He's using you to get back at me."
His words cut deep, echoing my insecurities. What if Reeves is right? What if Iamjust a pawn in Caine's revenge game? What if Caine’s sweet words were just all part of it?
“It’s not like that," I say, but my voice lacks conviction.
"You've known him for what, a few weeks? I've known him for years. He's a narcissist who gets off on manipulating people."
I stare at my plate, doubt creeping in. The connection I felt with Caine seemed so real, but maybe I'm just another conquest to him. Maybe I've risked everything for nothing. Maybe I’m just a fool.
Reeves is probably right. I'm so naive. Well, fuck Reeves and fuck Caine. I'm not letting either one of them get to me.
I collapse onto the couch, kicking off my shoes. My feet ache, my back hurts, and my brain feels like mush. Three days of juggling the pool hall and Liam while Reeves is at some tournament in Boston have left me drained.
Thank God for Clara and her boy, who’ve been around to help and distract us. And Liza too.
