Jealousy has always been a dominant trait in Reina’s genetic make up — it’s been that way since high school, when she’d ruin girl’s lives for even looking in the direction of any guy she was even slightly interested in. She’d once put peanut oil on a friend’s lip gloss knowing it’d make her lips blow up and her neck break out in hives right before the other girl went to kiss a boy she had a crush on after school one day. Reina then slept with him the following weekend at a party. Over time, she’s graduated from peanut oil to straight up poison when she sees Anthony ogling some groupie or finds out he slept with someone new, but that’s less because she wants him and more to do with asserting her dominance in the situation. She likes to think she’s gotten better about her jealous — that it’s less rampant in her brain and more of a game at this point — and then she sees Caine chatting up a pretty blonde at the bar while they’re at some hotel party for the family, and all of her supposed progress goes out the fucking window.
Usually the two of them ignore each other at these things, favoring caution when they’re in public so they don’t raise any eyebrows, but it takes exactly two seconds after the blonde vacates Caine’s presence for Reina to sidle up beside him and tell him to meet her in a room upstairs. She doesn’t miss the hesitation in his eyes but of course he agrees — he always does when it comes to her — and soon they’re alone in another hotel room, as is their usual. Except this time, Reina’s not in any hurry to jump his bones. “I saw you talking to that woman,” she says, cutting right to the chase while she makes herself a drink from the mini bar — as if she hasn’t already had enough. “Are you fucking her?”
Lately, Caine and Reina have hit a wall. It seemed like every time he wanted to do something, she was pulling another direction. Every time she wanted something, he was going another. Honestly, the pressure of the pairing and the fact that Anthony was still in the picture years after Caine and Reina began-- whatever this is, is starting to get to him. Maybe if he was a better person, he'd pack up and leave or maybe if he was a worse person, he'd lay an ultimatum on the table and tell Reina to take it or leave it. She was happy with him anyways. Way happier than with Anthony. Which only leads Caine to the point where he's tired of pretending and tired of fighting. Unfortunately, that also doesn't mean he doesn't have to see Reina around every turn. He still wanted to be with her but there was only so much he could take. The blonde had been a breath of fresh air. She was younger but not prettier than Reina to the man, but she wasn't attached to a crime boss either. She was a friend of a friend she had said and the burning into the back of his skull is probably what made the woman leave her number and head off into the rest of the party. Reina's tone doesn't shock him but in the same step, it does. She doesn't control him or she doesn't get to. Not when she was still married with kids.
None of it changes the fact that when she asks him to come with her, he does and once they go up to the hotel room, Caine's already gripping at his temples. It was definitely not a night of drinks, laughter and shower sex tonight, he guessed. Almost immediately, he's on guard and she's throwing questions that sound more like accusations to him. "And if I was? What? You're going to march down there and tell her to stop fucking your-- your what?" he says sarcastically.
It’s the work around that gets her — the answer only a lawyer would give when he doesn’t want to show his hand. In Reina’s mind, it’s a confirmation that Caine has been fucking this woman behind her back, even though there’s literally no evidence to prove that’s the reality other than the conversation she’d seen him have with her. “Maybe I’ll just go down and smash her face into the bar. No words necessary for that,” she scoffs, eyes narrowed and she angrily takes a sip of the drink she’d just made that’s got a little too much tequila in it. Of course that’s easier said than done when there’s a ballroom full of people downstairs who all know her name, but Reina’s got enough pull that it probably wouldn’t get her in too much trouble with anyone but Anthony — however, explaining the reasoning behind her actions to her husband just isn’t a possibility, so she chooses to refrain from acting on impulse. That doesn’t mean she isn’t still pissed, though, especially since Caine’s clearly just using the situation to make her give him some kind of validation. “What do you want me to do, Caine? You want me to go let the world know we’ve been having an affair just to keep you from fucking other women?” Her words are entirely hypothetical, because clearly that’s not going to happen, but Reina can’t help but feel like that might actually be what he wants from her. And it’s fucking exhausting that she’s finally found some good in her life and he’s willing to ruin it just because some mediocre looking blonde bitch gave him attention. “You knew what this had to be. You’ve been fine with it for three years and now you suddenly have wandering dick syndrome too?”
While Caine knew that Reina isn't normally bluffing about the physical violence he's sure she'd love to commit against the blonde that he barely even knows. Beyond not knowing her, he definitely hasn't seen the woman naked but he's not so keen on letting the woman win. The pair were both stubborn to a fault, something he's not even willing to admit but his analytical mind has already started going, thinking about every which way this could pan out-- none of them really involved Reina causing a scene downstairs. "Maybe then we'd have some real fucking truth going on around here," he tells her, with an angry laugh that keeps him from yelling. He's not much of a yeller but Reina sure as Hell was. "Wandering Dick Syndrome? Don't fucking compare me to your shitty husband, Reina. I'm the one that's been loyal. Not him. Not you," he reminds her. Reina, admittedly can't really be loyal considering she's at least obligated to be in the same home as Anthony but there's no way she hasn't been in the same bed with him for the last three years. "I just think it's crazy that I talk to one fucking woman and all of a sudden I'm fucking half of Manhattan? You don't know me better than that by now? Huh?" he asks, throwing his hands down to his sides, leaning against the dresser of the hotel room, blue eyes like ice cut with anger.
CONTINUED — @unknownwcnder​
“Oh, please. Since when do you care about that?” Caine’s obviously more than likely not thrilled about the fact that Reina can’t just give him all of her loyalty, it’s clearly never been enough of an issue that he feels the need to end things because of it. Part of her thinks that might be what this is about, because even though she’d been the one to bring it up and go ballistic on Caine for something so small, he hadn’t hesitated to throw the fact that she’s still married right back in her face. “Don’t turn this around on me. You were the one getting cozy with some dumb whore at the bar,” she spits, gesturing wildly around her as if the woman in question is right there for her to reference. Of course, he’s probably telling the truth. Maybe her reaction to Caine simply having a conversation with another woman isn’t all that warranted, and maybe he isn’t actually fucking her and the rest of the city, but with each passing second Reina’s deep insecurities make her spiral further and further out of control. This has to be the end, she thinks — he’d been purposefully flirting with another woman because he wants out, but he’s too much of a coward to just come out and say it. “If this isn’t enough for you I’d much rather you just fucking say that to me instead of rubbing it in my face in public. And if that’s really the case then you can kindly go fuck yourself.”
