“Ones that no one has a right to ever see.” Cain drops in front of my seat. The look of pity tells me that every possible outcome I had thought up would have been far kinder because he means images of us together intimately. The plane moves, but when Cain grips me and holds me still, I realise it's me moving. I’m shaking uncontrollably. The air around me closes in, and I suck in to stop from passing out.
I shake my head. “My parents…” Dread leeches the colour from me, and he reaches to cup my face, but I scramble back and out of the seat, pulling at my jumper, feeling too constricted in it.
“Lauren.” Cain follows me down the small plane, and I come face to face with an embarrassed-looking stewardess. Arms wrap around my waist, and he holds me against his chest as I gulp for air. “Some water, please,” he says as my vision blots and tears take over. “I’ll handle it all. Everything. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” I sniff. The stewardess steps out the small door, and as she does, I see through the gap an image staring back at me from a screen.
It’s the night on the beach. Cain has me pinned down, and my eyes are wide with pleasure. My skin is bright under the glow of the moon. We’re both without a scrap of clothing and drenched in sweat. Sweat and sand, we’re covered in it, and it’s the sand alone that is concealing any lack of modesty we have left. A sob works up my throat, careening to tear through the plane like a guillotine as I let it free.
His hold tightens, promising safety when I feel at my most vulnerable. “FUCK! Get that off!” Cain bellows. I’m crying loudly. Humiliated and sick to my stomach by what the world is seeing. By what someone stole from us. Cain scoops me up and pulls me onto his lap as I hide my face and bawl into his neck for the longest time.
Finally, when I’m all out of tears, he says, “I don’t know how to make this better, but let me try. Come back to mine, and we’ll meet with Danvers, my lawyer.” He kisses my hair, and I nod, sniffing unattractively.
“My parents will have seen that. They will thi—”
“That you had your privacy violated. That photo should never have been taken. Never shared. That moment was for us and us alone.” He holds me to his chest, and I nod tearfully.
I tilt my head up at Cain, and he cups my face as a bottle of water is placed beside us. “You’re going to fire me for real this time, aren't you?” I hiccup, and he laughs humourlessly.
“Afraid so.” My phone buzzes between us. It’s my mum again. I stare at Cain in panic, and he takes the phone and answers it. “Hello. Cain, speaking.”
I can hear the rushed tones of my mother’s voice, and I cringe in my seat. “Yes, I'm her boss. Amongst other things.” He clears his throat, and I bite my lip as my mother chirps down the line. I’m a coward. I should have answered. “I know. My team is working on it. She’s in shock. Upset. I apologise for not taking better care of your daughter.” My mouth turns down at his need to take the blame. I hold my hand out, and Cain drops down, giving me the phone.
“Hello, Mum.”
“Oh gosh, Lauren. Are you okay, sweetie?”
“No.” I begin to cry again, and she coos down the phone, her light, reassuring tone settling some of my anxiety.
“There are some rotten people in this world,” she tells me. Cain cups my neck and massages as I sniffle into the phone. “So, is it serious?” my mother asks, and I force my eyes away from naturally flicking to Cain for reassurance.
I chew my lip, and he twists my head his way, fixing me with a genuine stare. “It is,” he answers for me, gruff, honest, and still angry. My lip wobbles, and he uncaps the water and holds it to me as his own rings.
“I need to take this,” he mouths.
I nod and let him walk away as I cry down the phone to my mum and even harder when my dad comes on the line.
When I think that's the end of my humiliation and I finally say goodbye, a message from Martin pings through.
I always wondered how you managed to secure a job there. Now I know.
I’m blinking furiously at the screen when Cain reappears, and sensing the change in my mood, he plucks my phone from me, ignoring my protest, and reading the message. “Who is Martin?”
Dropping my head with a sigh, I hide my face and rub as lethargy seeps into my body. “My ex.”
“I take it that it didn’t end well?” Cain murmurs.
Shaking my head, I tip my chin and meet him head-on. “I caught him with my friend. They were having an affair.” I should voice the truth about Henrik, but I've not heard from him, so I keep tight-lipped.
“So I should thank him?” Cain replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m assuming that is why you moved to London?”
“It is.”
“I should definitely thank him,” Cain concludes and taps the mobile. The line rings, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat, but Cain grips my hand tightly, offering reassurance, and then Martin's snide voice huffs down the line.
“I suppose you think you moved up in the world,” he laughs dryly. “The infamous Carson-Ivory,” he spits, “He’s using you, Lauren. I thought you had more respect than to spread your legs for a guy like that.”
“I hate to tear into your riveting monologue,” Cain begins in an eloquent drawl. “However, I wanted to thank you.”