CAN OF WORMS

CAN OF WORMS
Virginia leaned against the balcony railing, her glass of wine catching the gold wash of the evening sun. 

Below, the city pulsed loud, fast and alive, but her attention stayed fixed on the name glowing on her phone screen.

She pressed call.

It rang twice before Cash picked up.

“Hey,” he said, his tone was calm but distant. A kind of voice that made her wonder if she’d already lost him.

“I was starting to think you blocked me,” she said lightly, swirling the wine. “You’ve been hard to reach lately.”

“Just busy,” he replied. “Work, mostly.”

“You’re always busy,” she murmured, smiling faintly. “You know, there’s this new Italian restaurant that just opened downtown. I thought maybe you could take a night off. We could go together, you, me, and a little catch up over dinner, just like old times.”

Cash chuckled softly. “Tempting offer.”

She arched a brow “But?”

Cash leaned back in his car seat, staring at the sunset burning orange against the glass. “I can’t tonight,” he said easily, a faint smile on his lips. “I already made plans for tonight.”

“Oh?” Her smile faltered. But Virginia’s tone brightened and stayed smooth, trying too hard to sound casual.

“Plans with who?”

“Just someone I’m helping with something. It’s not a big deal.”

“Helping,” she echoed. “That sounds… noble. Is it a romantic kind of help?”

He laughed under his breath. “You really think I’d be that predictable?”

“I think,” she said, her voice dipping lower, “you forget how well I know you.”

Cash sighed, tired of the push and pull. “It’s not what you think, Virginia. You don’t need to worry much about me.”

“I’m not worried,” she said, her lips curving faintly. “I’m curious.”

“Well, you’ll have to stay curious,” he replied.

“But Cash, I care about you that’s why I want to…”

Cash chuckled, low and charming, a sultry sound that made people believe him even when he lied. “You worry for no reason, Vee. Like I said, It’s not what you think.”

“Alright then. How about we…?”

“Vee honey, let’s catch up some other time okay? I gotta go”

Before she could answer, the line went dead.

And as soon as the call ended, her smile fell. The phone stayed pressed to her ear long after the call.

She grit her teeth and picked up her wine to take a harsh sip.

Virginia stood still for a moment, her fingers tightening around her glass. Then she set it down, walked to her private office, and with one press of a button, her screens lit up. Dozens of hidden live feeds flickered to life.

On one screen, Cash appeared, stepping out of his car and walking toward Isabel’s building. When Isabel opened the door for him, he smiled boyishly, the kind of smile Virginia had been dying and wishing to seen in months.

She didn’t blink, she just stared at them. Virginia watched as he leaned close, touched Isabel’s hand, kissed her cheek, gave her flowers, and followed her inside.

Her throat tightened, not with sadness… but with pure rage, jealousy and hatred for Isabel.

For a moment it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Then, the shrill ring of her telephone, snapped her out of the evil thoughts she was having.

“Virginia Sinclair?” Cage’s voice came through rough and confident as soon as she answered.

“Who’s asking?”

“The son of the man who signs your salary cheques” he said and Virginia rolled her eyes. 

She’d heard about the guts and arrogance of Carl Graves eldest son, but she hadn’t seen it before today.

“Mr Graves, I’m not in the mood to fight tonight,” she said.

“Good.”

“Your assistant called me. Why do you need to speak with me?”

“I’ll cut to the chase, because I don’t have time to waste. I know you’re my brother’s ex or whatever, I need you to get him away from that nasty ass bitch.”

Virgina paused “Oh. You mean Isabel”

“That bitch. Yes. I need to protect my brother from her.”

She sighed. “They work together. How can you do that?”

“With your help of course”

Virgina laughed dryly “How can I do that when he’s with her again.”

Silence. 

Then, flatly, “You’re sure?” Cage asked.

“I just watched him walk into her building.”

Cage’s breath came slow and controlled, the way he always did when he was trying hard not to break something. “You’ve got footage?”

“Several angles, high quality, I’ve got it all.”

“Send it.”

Virginia hesitated, swirling her drink again. “And what do I get out of this?”

“I’m not playing your games, little miss detective.”

“You already are,” she countered softly. “You want him away from her as much as I do. You do your part, I’ll do mine.”

Cage’s voice hardened. “And what exactly is my part?”

“You know what it is,” she whispered. “Make him pay attention to reality again. Remind him why he should not be fucking Isabel, I’m sure the age difference has you worried.”

He scoffed. “You think I care who he sleeps with? I just want to get him away from her because what they’re doing is a taboo”

“You do care about who Cash is fucking” she said calmly. “You wouldn’t be having this call with me if you didn’t.”

There was a pause, long and heavy. Then Cage exhaled. “Fine. Send it.”

“I’ll take that as a truce.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

Virginia smirked faintly. “Then enjoy the show.”

The line clicked. Seconds later, the pictures arrived in Cage’s inbox.

Cash and Isabel, laughing.

Cash’s hand on her waist.

Cash smiling in a way that burned straight through Cage’s chest.

They were close… too close

When he clicked the next picture, it was to see Cash’s face buried in Isabel’s neck while she closed her eyes in pure ecstasy.

That was all it took and the thin line holding Cage’s sanity snapped.

His blood boiled as he continued to scroll through the pictures, and by the time he reached the last picture, he was already halfway home, anger pounding in his veins.

The door slammed hard enough to shake the house as Cage walked into his living room.

Pax flinched from where he sat on the couch, a half-eaten sandwich in his hands.

Cage didn’t look at him. He just threw his keys on the table, his jaw tight.

“Pack your things,” Cage said coldly.

Paxton blinked, confused. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

“You’re leaving. Because I need space,” Cage bit out. He didn’t look up, didn’t stop moving as he poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp.

Paxton rose slowly, the sandwich forgotten. His heart thudded, fear and confusion mixing with disbelief. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” Cage said after a long pause. 

“Then why are you kicking me out?

“I just need space.” He repeated, avoiding Pax’s eyes.

“I can’t believe you Cage” Paxton’s voice cracked. “Fuck you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Cage turned sharply, eyes hard. “It’s my house, Pax. Whatever I stay stands, go inside and pack your things!”

“No!”

Tears filled Paxton’s eyes before he could stop them. “I love you, Cage! Why do you keeps doing this to me?!” His voice broke open like a bleeding wound. 

“Why are you being so difficult?”

Pax silenced Caged with a raised palm “it’s high time you stop treating me like trash Cage. I’m sick of it, your moods, your coldness, the way you use me when it suits you! I’m your boyfriend and your lover, treat me like one!”

“Don’t start…”

“I left everything for you!” Pax yelled, stepping forward. “The renovation of my grandfather’s house, my life, all of it, because you showed me love, care and showered me with affection.

And I believed you because you said I belonged here! And now you just want to throw me out because you need space?”

Cage said nothing. His silence was louder than any scream.

“No, Cage,” Paxton whispered, tears spilling down his face. “I’m not leaving.”

“Paxton…”

“I’m not leaving unless you treat me like your lover. Treat me like I matter, and then make sure you give me a few weeks’ notice before you kick me out next time.”

Cage stood there, dumbfounded. The rage that had carried him home drained into a deep, aching silence. 

He couldn’t look at Paxton’s face, it annoyed too much to see the tears.  

And without another word, Cage grabbed his golf bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.



Hours later, the house was dark when he returned home. Again, Cage slammed the door to announce his arrival, the echo bouncing through the wide, empty house.

Paxton flinched from down the hallway at the sound, his heart pounding. He’d been patiently and tearfully waiting for Cage to come back, and the tone in that slam told him tonight was one of those rough nights.

Cage’s body ached from the game, his clothes still damp from sweat, but the only thing heavier than the silence was the loneliness waiting for him inside.

“Paxton?” he called softly, setting his bag down.

No answer.

From the living room, he could hear Cage’s movements, the thud of keys, the clink of a bottle uncorked, the movement of glass.

He didn’t step out of the room. He didn’t dare to move.

At the mini bar, Cage’s reflection glared back at him from the mirror behind the liquor shelf. 

His eyes looked empty and tired, his jaw was tightly set, and his face was painted in a shade of fury he couldn’t name.

He poured himself a drink, the sound of liquid filling the glass echoing in the quiet house.

“Paxton?” He called again.

Then came the voice, soft but clear from the hallway. “I’m here.”

Cage closed his eyes and took a whiff of his rich scotch. “What are you doing?” he asked, taking a long sip.

“Nothing,” Paxton replied, sitting on the floor inside one of the rooms, red eyed and pink nosed, wearing one of Cage’s old shirts. 

The silence grew thick, heavy enough to hear the ticking of the clock over his own heartbeat.

Cage downed his drink, then poured another.

“You were gone a long time” Paxton’s voice was soft and uncertain as his voice drifted from the hallway, breaking the silence. “Where were you?”

Cage’s hand paused halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked toward the empty hallway. But he saw nothing. “Golfing,” he said simply and looked away.

A pause. “Did you enjoy it?” Pax’s voice was gentle but sharp, every word deliberate.

Cage set his glass down. “Yes. Did Clara leave any message?” he added stiffly, trying to change the subject.

“No,” Paxton replied.

The house went silent again. A storm of words lingered between them, unspoken but thick in the air.

Finally, Paxton spoke again, voice lower this time. “Why are you so worried about him like this?”

Cage froze for a second, his heart gave a strange, muted jolt. 

He brushed the worry off, before he sipped his drink “Who?” His tone was suddenly more colder.

“The man we met at the store, the one who attended the party with that woman. You’ve been all up in his business too much lately. That’s who you asked Clara to…” Pax was saying but Cage rolled his eyes and cut him off.

Not again’ he thought.

“Uh yes… I uh.., I must’ve forgotten to introduce you guys, he’s my brother. My father had been asking of him and I asked Clara to put a call across. I have to see him really soon. Why are you asking?”

Paxton let out a dry laugh “Brother?”

“Yes” Cage shrugged, still very oblivious to time bomb ticking between them. 

“Brother?” Pax repeated.

All hell was about to break loose.