Confront her about Jeremy.

The walk to Gemma's house is short, but every step feels like a mile. Steven's not home - his car is gone. You knock on the door, and she lets you in, with a wicked look in her eye. She's clearly expecting something different to happen - something more along the lines of your usual encounters. But that's not why you're here. By the time you get to her bedroom, you're already ready to vent. Gemma jumps onto the bed playfully, but you just stand there in the door way.

“You never told me about Jeremy.” Your voice is low, dangerous.

She doesn’t flinch, and sits up, her legs crossing beneath her.

“So?” she asks, her voice calm.

“So?” you repeat, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “You’ve been mine for months. You don’t get to so me.”

She lets out a soft laugh, the sound sharp and mocking.

“Yours? Since when did we ever say that?” She tilts her head, her eyes locking onto yours. “I’m not your girlfriend. You never asked for exclusivity. You just wanted my body.”

The words hit you like a slap to the face. She’s right. You never asked for more. You never wanted more. But the thought of her with someone else - of her laughing with him, kissing him, fucking him - sends a wave of rage through you.

“That’s not the point,” you growl, stepping closer. “You’re mine.”

Gemma stands, her chin lifting defiantly.

“No, I’m not. I’m his girlfriend. And I’m your mistress.” She takes a step toward you, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And if you don’t like it, you can walk out that door.”