Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy 1)

Reed swivels his head to look at me, his face nonverbally communicating he thinks I’m a fucking liar.

“Reed, I’m here because I’m genuinely attracted to you.”

He bites back a scoff. “Do you just so happen to have Alessandra’s music demo with you right now, Georgie, or do you want me to check out her Instagram page?”

Oh, fuck. “I... I have her music demo.”

His chest heaves. “Wow. What a coincidence. Do you carry it around with you, everywhere you go?”

I feel tears threaten, but I stuff them down.

“Did you have it earlier today, when you went to the event to ‘meet CeeCee,’ and our eyes met, and you winked at me? Did you have your stepsister’s music demo then, Georgina?”

I can’t move. Or breathe. I’ve never felt so cornered in my life. So misunderstood... and, yet, so guilty.

Reed leans toward me, overwhelming me with his intensity. “Did you walk into that lecture hall today, hoping to give me that flash drive, Georgina? Tell me the fucking truth.”

I open and close my mouth. And then slowly nod. “But it’s not what you think. I genuinely went there to meet CeeCee, like I said, but since I knew you were going to be there, I also—”

He waves me off. “It’s fine. I get it. You were multi-tasking. Killing two birds with one stone, right?”

My breathing is labored. I’m physically squirming in my seat. “Exactly. I didn’t lie to you, Reed. I flirted with you only because I’m attracted to you. Not because of the demo.”

He looks out the window again. “It doesn’t matter, either way. Don’t worry about it. I knew you were gaming me this whole time, so it’s not like this changes anything. Frankly, it’s par for the course for me, and a huge relief to finally have my hunch confirmed.”

“Reed, listen to me. I haven’t been ‘gaming’ you—”

He returns to me and his face is calm. Like he’s wearing a Reed Rivers mask now. “It’s okay, Georgina. I strongly prefer knowing someone wants something from me, rather than having to suffer through the exhaustion of them pretending they don’t. God, I hate having to play along when they pretend they’ve never heard of me or any of my artists. To be honest, I don’t have a problem with you letting me do filthy things to your body for four hours in exchange for me listening to your stepsister’s demo. In fact, I think that’s a fair trade-off. If you want to know the truth, one of my kinks is that I sometimes like to treat myself to a bargained-for exchange, just for the simplicity of it. The thing is, though, if I’m gonna pay for sex, whether with money or some other form of currency, I like knowing that’s what I’m doing, rather than having a woman lie to my fucking face about it.”

I’m livid. Beyond offended. In a flash, rage surges inside me, supplanting the arousal I’ve been feeling up to this horrifying moment. “You’re calling me a whore,” I say through gritted teeth, and to my shock, he doesn’t correct me. He simply raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, as if to say, If the shoe fits...

And that makes me even angrier. “You asshole!” I seethe. “I wasn’t going to sleep with you in exchange for you listening to Alessandra’s music! They were two separate things!”

Reed flashes me yet another nasty look, conveying his disbelief.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, the Italian in my blood taking over. “How dare you imply I’m willing to whore myself out to get something for Alessandra. How dare you!”

He chuckles. “How dare I? Save your indignation for your next performance, Georgina. The jig is up. You want something from me. I want something from you. There’s no need to scream and act outraged about any of it. Let’s talk like rational adults about the terms of this exchange and put this deal... to bed.” He winks.

My jaw thuds to the floor of the car, even as my heart explodes with rage. “Asshole!” I unfasten my seatbelt with frantic fingers, swing open my door, and stomp away from Reed’s fancy car, pulling up the Uber app on my phone as I go.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Reed says, marching after me.

“Home. Call me crazy, but my lady-boner sags to my knees when an arrogant, self-entitled prick-asshole calls me a fucking whore.”

“Sweetheart, trust me, if I fuck you hard enough while calling you that, you’re gonna come harder than you ever have.”

I whirl around, intending to slap him, but he grabs my arm and laughs. The bastard laughs.

“Fuck. You,” I spit out, wrenching my arm from his grasp. “I wouldn’t sleep with you now if you were the last man on earth!”

We’re just inside the metal entrance gate of his driveway now, standing in the foggy darkness near a streetlamp. And, in this moment, I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate Reed fucking Rivers.