by Kira Blakely
Chapter 23
Cain
I’d come back here instead of going to the hotel.
It wasn’t because the renovations in the kitchen were done. No, it was because it reminded me of Margot and what we’d done in this apartment.
I walked past the sofa, where I’d eaten her out and given her that very first orgasm, then into the bedroom. I sat down on the bed, forced my phone out of my pocket, and cupped it between my palms, stared at it.
“You’re fucked,” I muttered, then put the cell down on the plain white sheets beside me.
The more time I spent with Margot, the worse it got. I couldn’t believe that loving her was a good idea. If I did, I’d let go, and we’d both wind up getting hurt. The fact that she’d already been wounded by that cunt of an ex of hers made everything so much more complicated.
I flopped back on the bed and pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes.
This place still smelled of us, here together. Our bodies moving against each other, her gasps, my grunts.
Leaving now would tear into me, but it was better than the alternative. Staying, breaking her heart, believing that either I wouldn’t get bored of what we had and move on to the next thrill, or that she wouldn’t see me for the unlovable prick I was and leave anyway.
I clenched my fists and lifted them from my face, dropped them to my sides.
Leaving now? “I can’t. Fuck, I can’t.”
And it was true. Disappointing Margot, hurting her after she’d finally opened up to me was out of the fucking question, not after we’d successfully launched the show together.
I had a choice to make.
Either I was all in or I was all out.
My phone blipped, and I grabbed it and lifted it to my face so I could make out the screen in the darkness. I unlocked it and grunted.
Text message from Margot.
“Are you all right? You seemed kind of froggy on the stairs.” Short, sweet, and to the point. Typical Margot. She didn’t want to let on that she cared, but she did. She always had.
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the delete option.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I typed out a reply. “I’m as happy as a hooker in a brothel.” That wasn’t appropriate. I backspaced and typed out another answer. “I’m swimming in sunshine, gorgeous.” I hit send.
Did you really just second-guess a text? For a woman?
That was an earth-shattering first. I’d never weighed or measured any of my reactions in the past. I’d simply acted. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing to think further than the next step. That was what other people did, apparently.
Another blip. “If you’re sure… Just know that I’m here for you if you ever need to talk. Cain, I can’t thank you enough for the other night. For talking to me about everything.”
“There was more than talking involved,” I typed back, because goddamn, I could think through texts, but I couldn’t filter my kneejerk reactions.
The other night had been off the fucking chain, simply because she’d given me everything in every way. I got up and walked around to the head of the bed and clicked on my bedside lamp.
The curtains weren’t drawn in my room, and the wall-to-floor windows gave me the view of the buildings, most with lights still on—early evening work or play, people out there living, breathing, moving, and I was caught in mental fucking limbo.
Stay or go? Stay or go?
Since when was I indecisive? Since fucking never! This wasn’t me.
Another text bounced through. I kicked off my boots, settled onto the bed.
“Yeah, I know. It’s all I’ve been thinking about. You kinda made me crazy the other night. I wanted to know if there was anything you wanted to talk to me about. I practically shoved all my nasty business in your face and you took it. It’s your turn now, I guess, is what I’m trying to say.”
No longer short and to the point. Margot was nervous.
I held the phone, tapped my index finger against its side.
So, she wanted to know more about me, did she? More about the Cain who’d disappeared and left her wondering why.
“I want to know everything. Your darkest secrets. If you want to share them, I mean.” The text came after the other.
My darkest secrets. That sent a chill down my spine.
Trouble, that was what she’d called me. A troublemaker, and she wasn’t wrong. I’d done many things of which I wasn’t proud, but I’d done them all to survive. I was a product of what I’d learned and she wanted to know why that was.
“After Mom died, I rebelled,” I typed back, then hesitated, exhaled. “You know that already. I lost it. Got tattoos, trashed my dad’s house whenever I got the chance, had crazy parties. Remember?”
“I remember.” Her text came through right away.
Of course, she remembered. She’d come to one of those parties on my invitation, probably expecting a tame, chilled evening of teenagers watching movies, and she’d gotten one hell of a shock.
I’d teased her for a week after for running out and back home to Mom and Dad like the innocent girl she was. Blonde, blue-eyed, and oh-so-scared. Oh-so-fuckable.
“And then you disappeared.” Margot’s text was a prompt.
“I didn’t disappear by choice,” I said back. “Or maybe I did, fuck it, I don’t know. My dad kicked me out of the house, onto the streets. He told me to clean up my shit, or I would lose everything. Instead of cleaning up, I lived out there, under the stars, in the cold.”
“Oh my god, I had no idea. Cain, I had no idea!”
“I know, not many people know about it. It was one of the worst times of my life. I lived out there, and I did what I had to, to stay alive. To get by. I stole small things at first,” I said, my shoulders tense now, as if my bones had transformed into steel. Or adamantium, like fucking Wolverine. “After that, things got worse and better. I boosted cars.”
“Wow.”
That was the only reply. I’d started now, so I’d finish. Shit, if anything could scare her off, this would. “I got caught after a while, but I made a shitload of money that way. It’s not a time I’m proud of.” That was true. I’d been out of control, even more out of control than I was now, and that was exactly why I wasn’t good for Margot.
“That’s kind of like those Fast and the Furious movies. You’re like Vin Diesel with hair.”
I snorted a laugh at that. At least, she hadn’t thrown her fucking phone across the room in the interim. “Not quite. And it’s not cool to be a dick with total disregard for the laws that govern society, particularly not when you’re arrested and put in prison. There’s nothing scarier than that.”
“You were in prison?”
Shit, of course that would bother her. Her ex was a scumbag who’d stolen from her and wound up in jail. This was why it was a bad idea to talk about the past. And feelings. Fuck feelings, man.
Regardless, my thumbs chased across the screen. What I typed always came out garbled on my phone, thanks to the size of my goddamn fingers—thank god for autocorrect. “Yeah. I did time, and I deserved to, but my father twisted arms and got me out of there early. I did community service instead, and that’s when things started changing for the better,” I said, and swallowed hard. This next part would be the hardest part to talk about, simply because I didn’t do well with emotional crap.
“Why?”
“Because I started working with people who were worse off than me, who needed help rather than a quick handout. These were people whose problems couldn’t be solved overnight, and they were trying so fucking hard to make it work, Margot. They gave a shit about their futures, and there I was, acting like a total fuckhead simply because I couldn’t handle the fact that someone I’d cared about had left me.”
“She didn’t leave you, Cain,” Margot typed back. The three dots continued, then dropped off. “She didn’t leave you by choice, anyway. I wish you would’ve leaned on me when it happened. I cried for you and for your
mom.”
I shifted on the bed, but no amount of jostling around would give me any goddamn comfort. Opening up like this went against the grain of who I was, but Margot was… she deserved this, basically.
“After that, I cleaned up my act, crime-wise. I haven’t done anything illegal since I was released from prison.”
“Apart from indecent exposure,” Margot said.
I laughed out loud. Of course, how could I forget the little stint in the hotel that had started all of this shit? “Yeah, apart from that. Charity work has kept me sane over the past couple years.”
“That’s awesome, Cain. I’m happy things are working out for you.”
And that was it. Shit, had I said something that upset her? Probably. I wasn’t the most intuitive prick at the best of times, but the response had seemed way too friendly.
I’d never been in the friend zone in my entire life. I wasn’t about to start now. “Spill it, Margot.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
She typed, then stopped. The three annoying dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. Christ, whoever had invented that feature deserved a punch straight to the chin.
“Where did you get all the money from? That you have now?”
Oh shit, so she thought I’d kept my ill-gotten gains and that was what was invested in her business. “I invest in real estate. After I came out of prison, my father gave me a starter loan with the understanding that I would use it to create my own wealth, because, as he put it, he wasn’t going to leave his money to a freeloader.”
“Oh, OK. That makes sense.”
“I’m not that guy, Margot. I’m not the type of guy who would do to you what he did.”
She didn’t reply then, and I shut my eyes, rested my head against the rosewood headboard. There it was—I’d told Margot the truth about myself. I’d told her too much. Christ, all she needed now was my favorite color and my sign.
Black and Scorpio, not that it made a damn difference.
The blip brought me back to the room.
“Thank you for telling me all of this, Cain. I—I wish I was there with you.”
“I wish you were here too,” I said, and ground my teeth. Fuck, fuck, this was bad. “Margot, I’ve got to make a decision. A big one. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sleep well.”
“Dream of me,” I texted back, then locked the screen and set it aside.
It was something else, baring myself to a woman like that. It didn’t feel like weakness, it felt like strength, like I could finally trust someone to see the real me instead of the dickhead exterior I showed everyone else.
And that left me with the decision. The one that had eaten me alive since I’d walked into Get Ink’d that first day and seen her there, the perfect reminder of the happiness I’d had before I’d taken the fall. Margot.
My Margot.
Stay or go?
Chapter 24
Margot
I paged through the appointment book at the front of the store, ignoring Nat’s chatter, which traveled from our tiny on-site kitchenette, down the hall, and to the front of the shop. She was in there with Ben, talking incessantly about Supernatural or Game of Thrones, or whatever her favorite series was this month.
The two of them got along really well—hopefully, Nat would let Ben make the move before she did. She’d always been a little on the eager side, not that there was anything wrong with taking control of a situation.
No, nothing wrong with that.
I chewed the inside of my cheek.
So, why can’t I do it? Why can’t I take control of the situation?
Because nothing was simple when it came to Cain. He hadn’t come in yet. He usually did at around this time, but after last night’s conversation, he might not.
“Make a decision?” I muttered, and slapped the book shut, then dragged my fingers through my hair and snagged a few knots, grimaced. Gosh, my hair had always been too thick and a little on the unruly side, but this morning I’d barely managed to scrape a brush through it before I’d headed out.
Cain on my mind. This was ridiculous.
A knock rattled the front door, and I jumped, my pulse ticking up instantly.
I looked up, and all the excitement dissolved.
Of course. It was Guy.
He stood in front of the door, gripping that same leather suitcase he’d brought in here a couple weeks ago. The script meeting was today, and a review of how the pilot had been received, or, at least, a pre-review.
I pushed off from the counter and tramped to the door, then let him in.
“Good morning,” he said, and scanned the interior of the reception area. “Am I the first one to come in this morning?”
“No, Ben and Jerry are here, and Nat too.”
He pursed his lips at the mention of Nat’s name. Apparently, she hadn’t made a great impression on him—either because of her flirting with Cain or with him. Who knew? Nat was a force unto herself, and I loved her for it.
“Oh, all right. Well, how are you this morning, Margot? How did you feel about last night’s pilot?”
“I thought it was great,” I said, and promptly went red. Last night reminded me of Cain’s arm around my shoulder, my head resting against his chest, and the tenderness with which he’d carried little sis up to her room.
Steven had never connected with my family. He’d despised visiting them for Sunday lunches or anything else, and he’d never exchanged more than a few words with Jemma-Kate. God, what an idiot I’d been to fall for him.
“Great? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Actually, it was fantastic. I loved the, uh, the cinematography and the content. The way the producer put it together made everything pop.” Were those the right phrases? I glanced past Guy and his loose-collared shirt, his neatly cut light brown hair, to the front door.
No sign of Cain yet, and I hadn’t turned the CLOSED sign to OPEN yet.
“Good, that’s good,” Guy replied, then placed his hand on my forearm. “Listen, let’s discuss the rest of this in private. In your office?”
I didn’t snatch my arm away but moved it firmly, in a manner that left no room for guesswork. “Yes, of course,” I said and set off for the open door. Guy probably wasn’t interested in me, no matter what Cain thought, but I still wasn’t comfortable with him touching me, friendly or not.
It was always better to keep things strictly professional.
Except with business partners, apparently.
We entered, and images of Cain in front of me, holding me in place on the desk as he pounded into me again and again, leaped out at me.
I gulped and circled the desk, sat down in my executive chair and interlaced my fingers, placed my hands on the desk.
Guy shut the door and lingered behind his chair, holding the briefcase at his side. He stared at me, and a creeping uneasiness trickled down my spine.
“Mr. Simmons? Please, take a seat.”
“Mr. Simmons, pah,” he said, and gave me that executive cheese grin. “I think we’ve passed formalities, Margot. I’m Guy, and you know that.” He finally sat down and placed the suitcase next to his chair.
I let out a tiny breath. Why was I so on edge today? Sheesh, maybe it was all the waiting for Cain to appear with whatever verdict he needed to deliver. “Of course,” I said. “I’m glad you came to talk about the show, Guy. I feel like it’ll do well, but I’m pretty much in the dark on this kind of thing. I mean, what do I know about TV and how things work at the network?” Christ, now I was rambling.
“The initial reaction seems to be really positive—”
I held up a hand and cut him off. “Actually, perhaps we should wait for my business partner. Cain would like to hear this too, I’m sure.”
Guy sniffed, shook his arm until his Rolex slipped to his wrist, then checked the time. “I’d love to tell you I have the time to hang around and wait for him, but I don’t, Margot. I’ve got other peopl
e to see. It’s imperative that we keep our meetings brief.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll relay the information to him, then.”
“I think that would be best.” Guy picked up his briefcase, unzipped it, then withdrew that same damn script. He dropped it onto the desk in front of me and gave a curt nod. “We’ve made some minor changes to it, but it’s much the same. We’ve got a main plot and a subplot running through the show, which we think will really resonate with viewers.”
“I thought we weren’t doing a script. The first show seemed to go well without it.”
Guy huffed a breath then smoothed his fingers over the walnut desktop. “Let me break it down for you, Margot. Things went OK. The initial ratings are positive, but I’ll have more information once I get some hard numbers. In all honesty, Ben and Jerry took way too much time filming for one episode. If we had a script, we’d cut costs and potential… hiccups.”
“Hiccups?”
“It’s no secret that your business partner is unstable at the best of times,” Guy said.
I chewed the side of my tongue to keep from snapping at him. He didn’t get what Cain had been through. He didn’t understand a damn thing. But he still had a point. Cain was a loose cannon.
“I want what’s best for you, Margot,” Guy continued, softly, and rose from the seat, then circled around the desk and dropped down beside me. “You can understand why, can’t you?” He placed his hand on my forearm again, a firmer grip.
Oh god. Oh, this was a shitty situation. “I understand that you’re being highly unprofessional, right now, and that you should take your hand off my arm. Now.”
Guy sighed and released me. “I’m sorry, Margot, I just find it difficult working with you, seeing how you react to what’s going on here. I want to help you. You seem like you’re struggling under the weight of so much. I haven’t seen you smile in a long time, not since our first meeting.”
My skin crawled. No doubt, he meant this in a nice way, but it made me super uncomfortable. This was not OK. Why couldn’t he act like a normal human being? Why? If I were Cain, he wouldn’t make me feel like this, probably because Cain would knock him the fuck out.