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And there you go, thinking about him when you should be focusing on what matters...
‘Maybe you should call him, you know. Just...’
I know Janice means Cain. It’s not just me thinking about him; the majority of the company are. His success knows no bounds, even when compared to ours.
‘I don’t need anyone’s help, least of all his.’ I smile to soften the acidity of my words.
She nods as she clutches her tablet to her chest. ‘Forget I said anything.’
‘I will.’ I go back to my screen.
‘Night, then.’
I don’t look at her, only nod. There’s too much emotion in my face, in my voice. I can’t bring myself to speak any further. I’m tired and far too bitter not to say something about Cain that I’ll later regret.
She leaves, closing the door softly behind her, and I feel a stab of guilt at my brusque treatment of her. It’s not her fault I’m tetchy. It’s all Cain’s.
We’re supposed to be ancient history, our relationship a whole other lifetime ago. So why, three months after the funeral, does his reappearance still have me reeling? And not just with shock, but with a multitude of feelings that I’d thought long since dead?
I rub at my face, my eyes, try to focus through the burning haze to read my computer screen. But it’s no use. I’ve been staring at it for almost twelve hours and my eyes are protesting now. It really is time for home.
Matthews, my head of technology, can wait—just as Janice tried to tell me.
And as though I’ve conjured her back, there’s a tap at my door.
‘Yes?’ I push out of my seat, start to rise, then freeze, my hands clutching the chair-arms for support. ‘Cain?’
He fills the doorway to my right, the precise cut of his dark suit speaking of its price tag, the flint shade of his shirt an exact match for his eyes, which seem to glint at me from across the room. There’s not a black hair out of place in its brushed-back style. His face is clean-shaven, his collar open—even his hands are relaxed inside his pockets. He’s so at ease, in control... Nothing like the broken man I saw three months ago.
‘We need to talk.’
I swallow, a shiver of fear running down my spine. It’s not rational. This is my domain—my office, my company.
What can I possibly be afraid of when it comes to him?
Nothing can hurt me more than he already has.
Nothing.
‘I was about to leave for the night.’
‘For the night? Hell, Alexa...’
And there it is—a slight crack to his calm exterior. He rakes his fingers through his perfect hair, a heavy sigh leaving his lips—lips I don’t want to remember as though I devoured them only yesterday when over seven years have passed. But my body remembers. The rush of warmth low in my abdomen tells me so.
‘You might as well stay a little longer and you’ll be on a new day.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
His hands are back in his pockets as he pins me with a glare, half-censorial, half-something else that I don’t understand and don’t dare analyse. I got him so wrong before that I don’t trust my instincts where he’s concerned now. I won’t even risk trying to read him.
‘It means you should have left hours ago.’
I settle back into my seat, refusing to rise to the anger that flares at his surprising concern.
Yeah, it’s anger that has you so worried...
‘You gave up any right to have a say in my working hours long ago, Cain—or do I need to remind you that you walked out on me seven years ago?’
