Chapter 11 I Think He Likes You
Blake reluctantly retrieved a wooden box with poker chips and cards from the cabinet, setting everything up on the table with mechanical movements.
"Here we go," he said, sorting the chips by color.
I sat nervously fidgeting as Ethan adjusted his wheelchair across from me, looking completely in control.
"Are we playing for actual money?" Ethan asked, his voice cutting through the silence.
Blake glanced at me with uncertainty. "We could just play for fun, right? No need to—"
"What's the point without stakes?" Ethan interrupted. "Five hundred minimum buy-in."
I nearly choked. Five hundred dollars? That was almost half my monthly budget for everything. I stepped on Blake's foot under the table, shooting him a desperate look.
Blake noticed my panic and quickly placed his arm around my shoulders. "Babe, don't worry. If you lose, it's on me. If you win, it's all yours."
Once the chips were distributed, I realized I'd be the dealer first. I stared at the cards in my hands, already feeling overwhelmed.
"I don't want to start," I said quietly, looking at Blake with pleading eyes.
Ethan wordlessly reached for the deck, taking over as the first dealer. His fingers moved with practiced precision, dealing the cards with fluid grace. The first hand began, and I stared at my cards—a mismatched two and seven.
I folded immediately.
"Smart choice," Ethan commented, his eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to the table.
The first round ended quickly, with Ethan raking in a considerable pile of chips. His strategy was ruthless, his betting patterns impossible to read. Blake lost heavily, his face growing increasingly tense with each hand.
"Blake, you're the dealer for the next round," Ethan announced after his decisive victory.
"I'd rather not," Blake said, attempting to push the deck toward me. "Let Olivia—"
"If you try to hand those cards to anyone else," Ethan cut in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "you can handle the licensing issues for Elevation yourself."
The color drained from Blake's face. He wordlessly took the deck, his fingers trembling slightly as he shuffled.
During the second round, something strange happened. I was dealt an incredible hand—nearly a royal flush. I needed just one more card to complete it. My heart raced with excitement, but somehow, the opportunity to play my winning card never came. Ethan kept making moves that redirected the gameplay away from me.
Yet, mysteriously, I still won that round.
"Beginner's luck," Blake muttered, though his eyes narrowed suspiciously at his uncle.
The third round began with me as the dealer. My hands fumbled with the cards, and several slipped onto the floor.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, bending down to retrieve them.
When the game resumed, I found myself winning again. Blake bet more recklessly with each hand, while Ethan's precise moves somehow always helped me.
"This is bullshit," Blake finally exploded after losing a huge pot. "You're letting her win!"
Ethan's eyes turned to ice. "How many days in jail would you like for that incident at your club?"
The game continued, with Blake losing hand after hand. His pile of chips dwindled while mine grew surprisingly large. Ethan and I seemed to take turns winning.
As we left Ethan's wing of the mansion, Blake stopped suddenly beneath a towering elm tree in the garden.
"Is it just me, or does my uncle seem interested in you?" he asked, his voice unusually serious.
My heart skipped a beat, panic rising in my chest. "What? What do you mean?"
"I feel like he was watching you the entire time. And he definitely let you win."
"Don't be ridiculous," I said, trying to sound casual while my pulse raced. "I'm terrified of your uncle. I can barely look him in the eye!"
"That might be exactly what intrigues him," Blake murmured, leaning in closer as if to kiss me.
Just as his lips were about to touch mine, his phone rang. I stepped back, secretly relieved by the interruption.
Blake checked the screen and frowned. "It's Uncle Ethan again." He answered immediately, his tone instantly respectful. "Yes, Uncle?"
I watched as Blake's expression shifted from concern to confusion.
"Salary? What salary?" He listened for a moment. "I can just give it to her for you... Fine, I'll tell her."
He hung up and looked at me with a strange expression. "My uncle wants you to go to his study to collect your payment."
"Payment for what?" I asked, my stomach knotting with apprehension.
"For taking care of his cats."
---
I approached Ethan's study despite my instincts telling me to run. After knocking with no answer, I entered to find it empty with papers scattered on the floor from the open balcony doors.
As I bent to pick them up, I heard a wheelchair behind me.
"Well, well. Now I understand Ms. Reed's true intentions with my nephew."
I spun around to see Ethan watching me with cold eyes, my heart racing against my chest.
"Mr. Bennett! I was just—"
"Looking through my company's confidential development plans," he finished, wheeling closer to the desk. His long fingers tapped the paper I'd just placed on top of the stack.
I stared at him in shock. "What? No! I was only picking them up from the floor. The wind blew them off your desk. I didn't read anything!"
Ethan's lips curved into a cold smile. "I only trust what I see with my own eyes."
"I have a contract here," he continued, ignoring my protest as he pulled out a single sheet of paper from his desk drawer. "Sign it, and I'll forget about your snooping through my confidential files."
My hands trembled as I snatched the paper from him. "Fine, I'll sign. If you don't want me around Blake, I won't. Instead of playing these strange games, you could have just said so directly!"
But I froze in shock at what I read on the contract:
1. Olivia Reed will care for Ethan Bennett for two months during summer break.
2. Except for sleeping hours, she will accompany him at all times, including but not limited to business meetings, social events, and dinners.
I looked up at him, stunned into silence.
Ethan tugged at his collar, tilting his chin up slightly. "Ms. Reed, you're welcome to refuse. In that case, I'll see you in court."
I clutched the paper tightly, my knuckles turning white. "Why? Why would you want this?"
He beckoned me closer with a slight motion of his hand. "Come here."
My feet moved almost against my will until I stood beside his wheelchair. In one swift movement, he pulled me down onto his lap. His strong hands gripped my wrist, pulling my trembling hand to his thigh. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.
His fingers traced a path from my shoulder down my arm, his face inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my cheek as he brought his lips to the corner of my mouth.
"Do you understand now?" he whispered, his voice low and rough.