C.E.O x C.E.O

Ch. 5 - Tension-Filled Billiards

"Hah! And ya call yerself a pro?" Dmitri jeers from across the pool table, chin raised with pride and grin widening with every second, as he holds the cue stick like a teacher about to punish a student.

"I claimed nothing of the sort," James replies defensively, a slight droop of his eyes after he'd miss his shot and the red 11 ball doesn't roll the way he intended for it to roll. "And it's you who's distracting me."

Dmitri scoffs. "Me? There ya go pinnin' the blame on others. Just say ya suck and move on with the game."

"Look at your own progress," James points at the table. "You are two balls behind me. What does that say about you?"

"Hmph," Dmitri huffs. "At least I ain't full of myself enough to call myself a pro."

"I didn't say that!"

Meanwhile, Katherine watches from the sidelines, arms half-crossed, sipping on a bloody mary. These two have been arguing after every shot, so much so that three rounds each took almost an hour. She's starting to wonder whether she made the right decision in attempting to set them up.

"Arguing isn't going to determine the winner," She says, stopping them before their argument could turn into a barfight.

"Okay, okay," Dmitri responds, then tapping the corner of the table with his stick. "Okay, pechen'ye, you go next."

James raises a brow. "Me next? My round just ended."

"Eh, I insist," He then smirks. "Yer totally in need of it."

James growls lowly. Despite the hostile look, Katherine had expected a 'thank you' from James. He tends to do that with people mounting his nerves, as though to contradict himself, but he remains silent and resumes with the game instead.

He targets the red 11 ball, the same one he'd missed earlier on. He bends over the table to reach the ball at first, but with slight fidgeting, he then realizes that the ball is too far for him to reach. It's close to the side of the table where Dmitri stands, and when James straightens himself, he gulps, signifying he does not want to walk over to Dmitri just for that dumb red ball.

James glances at her, like she'd provide him with a solution. She simply shrugs, telling him he's on his own. It's him who'd accepted the challenge in the first place.

So, he turns back to the table and exhales a deep breath. Then, he lifts a leg up on the table and stretches himself across it, positioning his cue stick just right that he can't miss now.

Katherine conceals her widening eyes. She didn't expect him to do that.

"Whoa," Dmitri smirks, eyes widening momentarily just as her's had. "That's dedication right there."

"Shut it," James says, focusing on the ball. "And quit staring, will you?"

"I ain't," Dmitri says, but Katherine can see from here, that the man's eyes wander from James' gloved and positioned hands, his sleeves, then the hem of his blazer, down to the leg propped up on the table, and something tells her he isn't just admiring the suit, nor the dedication to the game.

The thought makes her titter. She conceals that too, with lifting her glass to her lips and sipping.

Then, the marble balls crackle against the sides of the table. One ball is pocketed, then another. But the red 11 ball isn't either of them, traveling to the other side of the table.

James clicks his tongue, quickly lifting himself from the otherwise compromising position. "That wasn't what I was going for."

Dmitri rolls his eyes. "Be happy for yerself that ya actually got somethin' this time, at the very least."