“Thanks for the lift home,” I say breezily.
“Come here,” he rumbles. He meets me halfway, and his hands hook above my arse, knotting us together. I let the heat of his touch immerse into my skin like a lotion, never wanting to forget the sensation. My own find a place around his neck, but it feels too personal, so I slide them to his chest. Smirking, he nudges his chin. “Don’t get shy with me now.” His laugh is low and sexy, and it has the corners of my lips pulling upwards. I return my hands to his neck and blink up at him, waiting. “Are you ready for goodbye?” he hums.
I nod, but what I really want to do is shake my head vigorously.
“Liar.”
“Cain,” I sigh.
“I know.” His tone matches mine, twisted with longing and regret; he drops his lips to mine, and his hands move to cup my face. It’s not a hard kiss, but it’s passionate, nonetheless. Packed with slow heat and everything we never said. I hold on and fight the surge of emotion racing up my chest. When I suck in a pained breath, he pulls away and drops his forehead to mine. “You’ll ring me if you have any problems.”
I hum a yes, untrusting of my own voice. I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes, and he doesn’t force me to either. I have no intention of ever calling him. It's a cut that needs to be severe, final.
“Goodbye, pretty girl.”
“Goodbye, Cain.” My voice cracks, and I swallow the remnants of vulnerability away before I say something stupid like, stay.
With a quick peck to my lips, he gives me a little wink and walks out of the door. It clicks shut, and I sit down on the sofa, perplexed. Sadness washes over me, along with a flicker of misplaced hope. I bat all those emotions away and cling to the happiness I felt only a few short hours ago. I want to hold on to those feelings a little longer before I'm sucker-punched by the ache of loss. This weekend was the best but worst thing to happen to me.
I never wanted to regret saying no to the man, but living with the knowledge of what yes allowed me to experience will forever haunt me.
It’s a little while before I find the energy to move. I’ve let my emotions get away from me and held onto the small bubble of hope floating around in the back of my mind, hoping that Cain would decide to act on wanting more than a weekend. I laugh humourlessly—my apartment could fit into his en suite. I’m most definitely not the kind of woman he would settle down with.
I’m the weekend heist kind.
The kind of woman he can pretend to want just to see how the shoe fits. But women like me know the shoe never fits. Besides, most of his shoes look handmade.
I could spend the rest of the evening moping around. It's all I really want to do, but it would do me no good, and Cain is probably going to fumigate his penthouse to remove any memory of me so he can carry on with his life. I tell myself all the things I think I need to hear to wrestle with the reality of not having him in my life.
I need to pack. Heading to the kitchen, I dig out some bin liners and the flat-pack boxes wedged under the sofa and begin putting my little life into them. Filling a small holdall with necessities that I will need over the next few days, I put it aside with my work uniform and some loungewear, then I begin heaving boxes to the door and prop it open so I can start to cart them up in the elevator. I’m sweating and out of breath, but mostly, I’m doing everything I can to keep my mind from slipping into a miserable void.
Heavy, slow footsteps bring my head up as I grunt and pant, pushing one of the heavier boxes out into the hall. Deeks’ face appears at the top of the stairwell. “Where’s the elephant?” he remarks, amused.
“I could ask you the same thing.” I heave another box out. His laugh echoes through the empty stairwell.
“Need a hand, girl?” He ambles towards me, and I nod, wiping the sweat from my brow. His eyes zero in on the smattering of bruises on my upper arms where my t-shirt has become stuck to my skin.
I tug the sleeve hem. “I’m fine, it’s—”
“Complicated, right?” That’s what I had said last night to him when he was poking at Cain, trying to rile him. That he was my boss, but it was complicated.
“Right.” I slap a bright smile on my face, throwing him off guard. I appreciate his offer of help, but I don’t want to accept it. Cain was adamant I call him where Deeks is concerned, and I don’t want to have a reason to call Cain. “I’m good, but thanks.” I shove at a box, and it topples.
Deeks makes his way to me and sets it the right way up. “No can do. Mr Complicated asked that I keep an eye on you.”
“Well, he asked that I call him if you cause me any trouble,” I retort flippantly, “wait, what?” I splutter when his words suddenly register. “Why did he ask you to keep an eye on me?” I’m dumbfounded.
“I’m guessing it’s complicated.” Big Deeks drawls, and I huff, confused. “So, where are these boxes going?”
“To 43B.” I sound petulant.
An ear-splitting whistle rings through the corridor, and the thunder of shoes makes its way up to us. “You heard her, 43B.” Deeks winks. It catapults me back to Cain, winking goodbye, and I drop my head, but not before I see a handful of lads around my age, if not younger, lifting my boxes with ease and disappearing up the stairs and in the elevator.
“Oh, wait. I need the key.” Jumping up, I find the new key, and Deeks helps me carry some clothes on hangers up the stairs.
What I expected to take me all evening is compressed into two short hours. My new apartment is full of boxes. The only thing left downstairs is my sofa bed. The guys managed to heave my fridge up a few levels, and all I need now is new bedding. “That’s it, Deeks.” I lift onto my toes and peck his cheek.
“Don't forget where I am if you need me.”