Chapter Three: The Offer

Olivia tensed at her seat, fingers curling around her cold glass of gin and tonic. She knew that Daniel wanted something from her, and it was not knowing what he wanted that made it worse. The fact that he knew so much from her, that this man whom she’d never thought much of to begin with, had her by the metaphorical balls.

“What the fuck do you want?” she demanded, voice clipped. “I’m tired of your bullshit game. Just say it.”

Daniel set his drink down carefully, his fingers smoothing along the condensation on the glass. He let the silence stretch, just to watch her squirm. “I want to fuck you,” he said quietly, directly, and without a hint of hesitation.

A slow, agonizing moment passed. Olivia’s brow furrowed slightly. She blinked once, twice, before understanding dawned on her face. And then she laughed. A harsh, disbelieving bark of laughter as she leaned back against the booth, shaking her head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His voice was quiet, smooth, but there was something in it that made her spine stiffen. Something unwavering. Something dangerous.

She scoffed, reaching for her drink, taking a long, slow sip as if to wash the absurdity from her mouth. She set the glass down harder than necessary, fingers drumming against the table as she exhaled through her nose. “All right for your sake, I’m going to pretend for a second that I didn’t hear that.”

“Oh, but you did,” he interrupted.

She bared her teeth like a predator, or like prey attempting to appear menacing, “You wish you had that kind of power over me, Reyes.”

He tilted his head slightly. “I do have power over you. I’ve got the power to destroy your precious little life. Just like you destroyed mine.”

Her fingers curled into the table.

“I want to take away your gold star,” he continued, voice even, unaffected. “That’s what they call it, right? A lesbian who’s never slept with a man.

Her jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the wooden table. She wanted to throw something at him. But that would mean giving in. And she refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead she shook her head and exhaled sharply, “Gold-Star lesbian, congratulations you’ve done your fucking research, asshole.”

Her lips curled into a sneer. “You are out of your goddamn mind if you think for one second that I would ever let you—”

“Oh, I don’t think it.” His fingers traced the rim of his glass again, slow, deliberate. “I know it.”

She hated the way his voice sent something sharp and unwanted down her spine. Hated that he was so calm, so certain, as if this had already been decided, as if her protest was just another part of the game.

“You humiliated me, Olivia, right under my nose. So, now I want something of yours.”

She let out a breath, sharp and furious. “So that’s it? That’s your grand fucking idea? You **** me into—what? Letting you stick your dick in me? Jesus, Daniel.”

“**** is an ugly word,” he mused, tilting his head. “This is about consequences, Olivia.” His green eyes were like glass—cold, unyielding. “You don’t get to fuck my wife and walk away without facing consequences.”

She shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“I’m generous,” he corrected smoothly. “I’m giving you a choice. Either you let me fuck you, or I go to Marissa and tell her what her wife has been up to.”

Her fingers tightened into fists. “You’re disgusting.”

Daniel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Fuck you, Olivia. You don’t get to act morally superior. Not now. Not ever.” His composure faltered for the first time, his voice raw and brimming with something uglier than anger. “Did you even think about what you were doing?”

She looked away out of shame, not because she had thought about it, but rather because she hadn’t. Samantha had been a fantasy, a long standing one, so when it had happened, under a flurry of wine and jealousy, she had not thought about Marissa.

“You don’t even regret it do you?”

She didn’t need Daniel to tell her that. It wasn’t guilt for what she had done—just guilt for getting caught. Olivia wouldn’t let that show though, she was scowling her fears hidden beneath a veneer of defiance. “You think this makes you a man? Hmm? You think you’re better than me?”

He felt something then a pang of guilt perhaps or regret. Which was quickly washed away at the memory of seeing her and Samantha. “I frankly don’t care.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

Daniel’s gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe.” He swirled the last of his whiskey in his glass. “But this isn’t about me.”

She didn’t like his voice, he was too calm, too steady, she hated that.

“This is about you. About the fact that you had everything. A wife who adores you. A good life. And you still couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Olivia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please. Spare me the goddamn sermon. If your wife was so happy, she wouldn’t have been in my bed.”

Daniel’s fingers tightened around the glass. For the first time, she saw something flicker in his gaze—a fracture in that perfect control.

Good.

She smirked. “What? You don’t like hearing it? You don’t like knowing that she came to me because I gave her what you never could?”

Daniel didn’t respond to her, he just looked at her. Like he was judging her.

“I’m at The Astoria.” The words were quiet, final. He was done playing games.

Olivia glanced down at the card, then back at him, her lips curling. “You seriously think I’m going to—”

“I don’t care.” Daniel’s voice was eerily calm, absolute. “You have your options. Now choose.”

He stood, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket with measured precision, as if this were nothing more than a routine transaction—just another negotiation where the outcome had already been decided. “If you’re even a minute late, I send the video to Marissa.”

Olivia sat frozen, the card lying in front of her like a ticking time bomb. Her fingers hovered over it, hesitant, as if touching it would seal her fate.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look up to meet his gaze, to fire back one last cutting remark, to negotiate, to curse him out, but he was already gone.

With a sharp exhale, Olivia grabbed her glass and downed the rest of her gin and tonic in one burning gulp. The ice clinked against the empty glass as she set it down with more **** than necessary.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out, quiet, harsh, laced with something she refused to name. She glanced at the card again. One hour. And she had no idea what the hell she was going to do. Yet, she took the card anyways.