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Silence emanates for a few seconds. “Thank me, whatever for?” Martin bustles, taken aback by who he is conversing with.
“For fucking up so spectacularly and sending my girl this way. Don’t contact Lauren again.” The line cuts and Cain throws my phone down in the empty seat before lifting my chin. “I don’t care about your past. He did us both a favour. Is there anything else?” he asks simply, and I hide my trembling hands and give my head a little shake.
Chapter31
Cain
After a weekend of meetings and time with our friends, Lauren is slowly coming to terms with what has happened. I’m just glad the photos weren’t any more intrusive, capturing more intimate parts of her. All I can do now is maintain damage control. Danvers believes it was the PI who followed us to Thailand. I’d have thought, with his dwindling cash flow, that Royce would have called his dog off. We’re waiting for some more information, but it wouldn’t surprise me if that was who took the images. It’s the only power Royce has, and by using it, he just folded.
Not to mention, if we can prove it, the camera welding twat is about to lose his licence. Following me is one thing, but taking illicit photographs is a whole other ball game.
I demanded an emergency meeting with the managers and HR once Danvers arrived, informing them that our relationship had always been conducted outside of the office. However, as we were staying at one of the resorts, it was difficult to argue the non-fraternisation policy. Lauren would no longer be working for Carson-Ivory hotels and resorts, and the only statement we put out was that our personal lives would stay private, and that Lauren was no longer an employee. The story has been printed over multiple outlets, and I disabled all her social media to avoid her having to see it.
“You okay?” I thread my fingers with her as we drive to the hotel. She needs to clear out her locker, and Amberley could have done it for her, but we agreed to show a united front. Not to mention, with Royce being in the know, I didn’t want to leave her alone. She was against the idea at first, not wanting to show her face, but I know the only way to fight fire is with fire, and so here we are, heading to face the press and leave with her head high.
“I feel sick with nerves,” she scoffs, shifting in the seat beside me.
“Head high, Lauren. Remember what Amberley said? Under all that sand, you could have been wearing a bikini.” I couldn’t fake the illusion of clothing. My ass was all over the internet as bold as day. The angle, the sand, and the fading light did us a favour—her a favour. I would never be so insensitive to admit it to her, but I think she looked incredible in that photo. I’ve never been a smug man, but finally getting her out in the open, being able to say she is mine, does shit to me. I can’t attach a label to it because it terrifies me.
“Sometimes, I feel like I'm watching it happen to someone else, and then the next minute, I want to hide under a rock. Too humiliated to even speak.” Shy, watery eyes bounce to mine and away again.
“Give it time. They will write about someone else soon enough, and this will be like a bad dream.”
“It is a bad dream. I don’t know if I can do this.” Her voice wavers. Violent anger churns in my stomach at whichever lowlife took those images and made her feel this way.
“You can. I’m here.” I drop a kiss on the back of her hand. “I’m here, Lauren.” Big, wide eyes meet mine, but anxiety glistens back at me, and I drop our linked hand to my knee.
“I know, thank you. I’m grateful that Perry offered me a job, though,” she sighs raggedly. Her fingers flex in mine as we near the hotel. I grunt. I’m not. His revenue will double, and every pumped-up jock in there will have seen my girl and want more when they find her pretty face behind the desk.
She looks like a powerhouse in her neat, knee-length dress and heels. Her face is set in a stony frown—her lips a cute but sexy pink.
We stop at a set of traffic lights, and like always, my head pulls to the left, seeking out the small window that is barely visible over the top of a wooden fence. “See that window?” I point over her shoulder, and she turns, nodding. “I drive past it every day. To most, it is just a solitary window.” It will never be just a window to me—it was the beginning of the end. For years, I’ve driven past this window, entered that building, and stood on the threshold, unable to cross over in fear of reliving it all again. It’s both a form of torture and all that keeps me going.
As though she can read my thoughts and is attuned to my mood, she squeezes my hand. “Is that?” Lauren peers back at me. “Where your father…died?”
Nodding, I change gear and pull away, the window disappearing behind buildings. “I drive by it every day to remind myself why I started this and that everything else is just noise.” I pick her hand up and kiss her knuckles. “Sometimes, that noise can seem deafening. It’s too loud, and you can’t hear anything else—like your eardrums might rupture, but it’s just noise, and you need to find a sound you like better. Don’t let their noise get to you.” I flick my gaze at her, and she bites her lip, nodding in agreement.
The press is scattered down the street, and as soon as my car pulls to a stop, flash bulbs attack us from all angles. “Head high. Don’t acknowledge them. I’m here the whole fucking way,” I say when her breath disappears into her throat in a pained gasp.
She nods, and then I’m out of the car, forcing my way through the throng. Camera flashes and voices erupt around me. Security arrives to assist, and I pull her door wide and take her hand in mine. She keeps her chin up, but her eyes avert as we walk to the hotel and inside. Several employees stare as we walk across the lobby, and I slip my hand to slide around her lower back as Amberley smiles in greeting. “Hi, I forgot to mention that Cameras Direct has a flash sale outside—one crappy camera lens for the price of two.”
“How long did it take you to come up with that joke?” I muse, rubbing my lip as more staff peer to look at us standing at the main desk.
“Most of the morning.” She blushes, and Lauren shifts beside me awkwardly. “Are you ready for your induction?” she asks Lauren.
“I guess. It’s just a lot in one day,” she replies softly.
“You’ll do amazingly. Perry can’t wait for you to start,” her friend reassures. Lauren nods, and her small hands shake at her front.
“Shall we go and get your stuff?”
Lauren nods, and I feel her hand reach for mine. I grip it tightly and escort her down to the staff room, daring anyone to voice their opinion. She clears her throat and walks in with a timid smile affixed in place. Multiple sets of eyes swing our way, and Lauren says a quiet good morning and lets go of my hand, heading for her locker. An uncomfortable silence permits the air.
“Good morning.” I force the attention back to myself, and a handful of surprised responses murmur in return. I walk to stand behind Lauren as she begins pulling all her things out of the locker. “Anything else—kitchen sink?” I drawl as I pull a coat and some spare shoes from her hands.
“No,” she laughs softly.
“Is that a mouldy banana, shameful?” I tut.
