Chapter 12

Margot

This entire day had been a treat. It had been everything I’d ever dreamed of and more. I never thought I’d ever have the opportunity to jet off to Japan, to travel and explore, and the fact that this had happened brought tears to my eyes.

I stood in front of Cain’s hotel room door in the Tokyo Station Hotel and swallowed the lump in my throat. It didn’t budge.

This was ridiculous.

Why did he do this? Why did he fly us out here?

I’d struggled to say yes to his proposition simply because I couldn’t fathom it. Was it some ploy to seize more control in the business? Or did he remember just how much I loved the culture of this country?

“Get it together, Margot,” I muttered, then looked down at my dress, checked for any spills from dinner.

We’d gone to Gonpachi, the restaurant where the infamous bloody scene in Kill Bill had been filmed. One of my favorite movies.

Stop delaying the inevitable and knock, for heaven’s sake!

I rapped my knuckles on the door twice, then tucked my hands behind my back and clasped them together, rocked back onto my kitten heels and forward again. Ridiculous, of course. I wasn’t some teenager on a date, so why did I feel like one?

Years ago, I’d fantasized about a date with Cain, even when I’d despised him.

Footsteps thumped on the other side of the door, followed by the click of the lock. I straightened and slapped my arms to my sides, lifted my chin, dragged my shoulders back.

I was here for one thing.

One thing.

No big deal.

The door opened and the breath in my lungs just… disappeared. Evaporated. Or left my lung tissue through osmosis.

Cain leaned his forearm on the jamb, his shirt off, his chest covered in tattoos, and his stomach bare of them, revealing abs he’d clearly spent time crafting, and a V that led toward the zipper of his jeans.

He dripped sweat, and he wore a pair of leather gloves for weight lifting. Had he brought weights all the way to Tokyo? I wouldn’t put it past him.

Cain stroked his hairline and looked at me from under his brows, towering, powerful as always.

My mouth dried up. All memories of tears or emotion or gratefulness dissolved.

There was only lust and me and him and the pesky space between us.

“I’ll get a camera,” Cain said.

“Huh?”

“So you can take a picture. It’ll last longer.” He offered me another of those infamous Cain Foster winks, then stepped back and allowed for a tiny gap between the jamb and himself. “Are you coming inside, Margot? Or are you going to stay out there all day gaping at me like I’m a piece of art?”

The girly side of me howled that he was a piece of art.

The normal, Margot side forced a derisive snort that came out a lot lamer than I’d intended. “Right, I—sure, I’ll come in, I guess.”

“Well, I assume you want to,” he said. “You did knock on my door. And I’m pretty sure I heard you shuffle down the hall a good five minutes ago.” He leaned forward again and looked up and down the corridor, with its printed carpets and deep navy walls. The scent of him, all musky man with a hint of light, citrusy cologne, almost bowled me over. “Unless you were waiting for someone else?”

“No,” I managed.

“Then come on in, Margot. Let’s talk.”

I squeezed past him and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making a noise in the process. My bare arm brushed his chest. God, it was as hot and hard as I remembered.

Don’t do it. You’ll regret it. You don’t want this.

The door snapped shut, and I walked to the armchair nearest to me, right across from a stunning view of the buildings in Tokyo, all lit up now that night had fallen.

Cain strode past me and took up a position right in my line of sight. He lifted a weight and did a bicep curl. “You don’t mind if I continue, do you? I’m usually like clockwork about this shit.”

“No,” I said. Even though it would make it more difficult to focus on what I’d come to say.

“What can I do for you, Margot?” A deep rumble.

I crossed my legs. “I wanted to thank you for everything that happened today, Cain. I appreciate it more than you know. I’ve been fascinated with Japanese culture for a long time.” I touched the tattoo behind my ear with a small smile. “As I’m sure you must’ve remembered.”

“I did,” he said. “And I figured that starting off the show with a business trip like this would peak interest.”

“I think you were right.” A mixture of relief and disappointment zipped through me. So, he’d done it for the business. That was good. He was serious about making it work then, and surely, that meant he wouldn’t go picking any fights or walking in on filming drunk and butt-naked.

The memory of that sent a flush up my neck and to my cheeks.

Cain put down his weight, then lifted one of the chairs and set it aside. He dropped and did a set of twenty push-ups, and I watched. What else could I do? He was magnificent.

The muscles on either side of his spine rippled, and his strong shoulders tightened up, corded, relaxed. Sweat beaded on his skin and trickled down that hollow between his shoulder blades.

This is bad. Get out! Get out before you do something you’ll regret.

Like having another life-altering night with this man.

“Anyway, I can see you’re busy and this isn’t the time to discuss anything business related, so I’ll leave. I just wanted to thank you for taking all of this seriously, Cain. I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.”

“Stay,” he said, and switched to one-handed push-ups.

Oh my god. Torture!

“Tell me why you think I’ll never know how much you appreciate it,” he said, his voice only slightly strained from the exertion.

I licked my lips and focused on the window above him instead of his back and the marks I’d leave there given half the chance. No!

“Because I’d never have gotten the chance to come here, otherwise.”

“That’s not true,” he said, and quit the push-ups, at last. He stood, dripping sweat now, tan and pumped-up from the exercise.

It was impossible not to stare. “It is.”

“Margot, you’re an independent woman who owns her own business. You’d be able to afford it someday, even if it’s not now.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” I replied.

“How?”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to talk to him about this, did I? He was Cain. He wasn’t the caring, sweet type, or he hadn’t been since high school. He was sex and chaos combined.

“You don’t want to tell me?” he asked.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that it’s not relevant. It’s not your problem.”

“What if I tell you something personal about myself first? And not that I have a massive cock,” he said and flashed me a white-toothed grin. “Since I guess you already know that, huh?”

“Cain,” I groaned. He couldn’t be serious for a second.

“You know my mother died,” he said.

The change in topic caught me so by surprise I jerked a little in my seat. “Yes,” I said, as gently as I could manage.

We’d never spoken about it. His mother had been ill for a while, and my father had been supportive of him during that time. Afterward, Cain had gone missing for a long time. He’d missed months of high school and came back tattooed and reeking of booze.

“I’ve never told you about it,” he said and grabbed a towel off the back of the sofa. He rubbed it down his back and front but didn’t take a seat.

“You don’t have to.”

“She was—special, to me.” He forced the words out, stripped off the gloves he’d worn, and tossed them aside. “My mother was the only person who cared, and when she died, she took—ha, this is fucked up. I can’t even talk about it.”

I lurched out of my seat and hurried to him, took hold of his hands, still hot and moist from the exercise. “It’s OK,” I said. “Seriously, you don’t have to tell me anything. I don’t need to know, if you can’t—”

“What kind of man am I, if I can’t?” He asked, then forced a laugh. “What a question. Don’t answer it.” He cleared his throat and squeezed my fingers, lightly. “When she died she took the only good part of me with her. I had nothing left to give. Nothing left to be. And this is what I became. This is who I am now, and I can’t go back. Do you understand that, Margot? I’m never going to change. I want you to hear that now and never forget it, because that’s the goddamn truth. I’m never going to change.”

“Who said you had to?” I asked, guilt curling through me.

His smile told me everything I needed to know. That I’d shown him I wanted him to change, for the business, yes, but in other ways too. “That’s my sob story,” he replied, and he laughed again.

I hated this. I hated the pain in him and the fact that he kept it under wraps. It wasn’t healthy.

Then again, I was one to talk. I hadn’t opened up to anyone about anything in years. “I can’t afford for this to fail because I’m the only source of income for my entire family,” I said—it came out like word vomit. “I’m the primary breadwinner. If I don’t make it work, Jemma-Kate won’t be able to go to school. Mom won’t have a place to stay. She’ll have to sell the house.”

“Let me help you,” Cain said, the words rumbling in his chest.

I shook my head. “You’ve done enough. I don’t want a handout. I just want the chance to make the shop work as it should’ve for the past couple years.”

Cain dragged me to his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’ll help you, Margot. I fucking swear I won’t fuck this up for you. You won’t let me give you the money, then so help me god, I’ll help you earn it. Even if it means putting off base jumping off the top of the shop for a couple months, or throat-punching that neck-beard Simmons until after the first season of the show has been filmed.”

I squeaked out a laugh.

“Anything for you,” he said, with such intensity I shook against him.

I melted against him.

“I don’t even need it when I’m with you,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The adrenaline. The rush. The scares. The fucking craziness. All the excitement and pleasure and—all of it is right here in my arms, right now.” He tightened his grip and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“I scare you?” I asked.

He slid his hands down my back and gripped both my ass cheeks, pressed my abdomen against his and ground his erection into me. “Can’t you tell? I’m fucking terrified.”

I moaned against his lips.

Don’t fall for him. Don’t feel for him. Don’t let it happen. You’ll regret it. He’s just told you he’ll never change.

“Shower,” he said, and he spanked me once, turned, then walked toward the bathroom.

I stared after him, my insides twisting and turning.

He waited for me in the doorway that led into the opulent bathroom beyond, all white tiles and marble countertops. “Come with me, Margot.”