From there I went into autopilot. I knew my job inside and out, and that was the only reason I managed to do anything competently, because my head was not on the work. It was on the man I could barely look at as I directed one of our guys to set up Benito’s camera and laptop out on the balcony and got the lighting crew to set up in the sitting room for later.
Caine Carraway.
I knew more about him than I should because for the last few months if I heard his name or saw it in print I paid attention. Call it morbid curiosity.
Orphaned at thirteen and put into the system, Caine beat the odds and went on to graduate from high school as valedictorian and continued his education at Wharton Business School on a full ride. He’d barely graduated from college when he started up the bank that would lead to Carraway Financial Holdings. By the time he was twenty-nine he was one of the most successful businessmen in Boston. Now at thirty-three he was feared and respected by his peers, welcomed into the fold of Boston’s high society, and one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. Although he was immensely private, the society pages took snapshots of him whenever they could, mostly at glamorous events. He was seen with beautiful women all the time, but the same one was rarely pictured with him after a few months.
All of that said alone, lonely, and, closed off to me.
That ache in my chest intensified.
“Alexa, come meet Mr. Carraway.”
I felt my breathing increase exponentially and turned from Scott, our lighting technician, to find Benito standing beside Caine.
Trying to control my emotions, I walked slowly over to them both, my cheeks burning under the heat of Caine’s black gaze. On closer inspection, I could see his eyes were actually a deep, dark brown. His face was a perfectly blank mask, but his eyes were more expressive.
I shivered again as they raked over me.
“Mr. Carraway, this is my PA, Alexa—”
“Nice to meet you.” I cut off my boss before he could say my last name. “If you need anything, give me a shout.” And before either Benito or Caine could respond, I quickly darted back across the room.
Scott was staring over my shoulder, and when his eyes returned to me they informed me that Benito was not pleased by my behavior. “What’s with you?” Scott said.
I shrugged at my colleague, not sure how to explain why I was acting like a teenager. It would be a long explanation. Too long. Too personal. Because what was with me was that only three short months ago I had discovered my father was to blame for destroying Caine’s childhood.
Now he was right there in front of me.
At Benito’s snap of my name, I spun around to find him scowling at me and gesturing me out onto the balcony. The shoot was starting.
Standing behind Benito, looking at the photos on the laptop, and glancing up from those to the real man in front of me, I was able to safely study Caine. Not at any point did he smile. He stared broodingly into the camera and Benito didn’t dare to ask him to change his countenance. He directed him to turn his head and body this way and that, but that was as courageous as Benito got with the guy.
“He’s got that brooding thing down pat,” Sofie murmured in my ear as she handed me coffee. “If I wasn’t happily engaged I’d try to put a smile on his handsome face. You’re single. You should so go there. I definitely think you could put a smile on his face.”
I covered a reactive blanch with a smirk. “I think it would take a gymnast and her twin sister to do that, babe.”
We looked at each other, laughter we couldn’t quite hold down bubbling up between us. It was a relief to laugh under such intense circumstances.
Unfortunately our laughter drew Caine’s attention. We knew this because everything went quiet and we turned to find him staring curiously at me while Benito … Well, he appeared to be trying to fry both Sofie’s ass and mine with the heat of his glower.
Sofie skittered off.
“Let’s take a break.” Benito sighed and approached the laptop. “You’ve been acting strange all morning,” he said under his breath. “Am I missing something?”
“No.” I stared at him, trying not to give away the truth. “Coffee?”
He nodded, no longer angry, just slightly disappointed. Which was worse.
I wisely hurried back into the apartment and headed to the bathroom. I thought a splash of cold water on my face might do me good. My hands shook as I cupped my palms under the tap water. “Shit,” I whispered.
I was a mess.
Again.
Enough was enough. My job wouldn’t survive another public outburst. Sure, it was a crappy situation, but I needed to pull myself together and act like a professional. Resolved to do so, I strode out of the bathroom with my shoulders thrown back and almost walked into a coffee cup.
The coffee cup was clasped in a large hand that belonged to Caine.
Staring up at him, I was struck mute. Mostly because my pulse was racing so hard it was difficult to concentrate on anything else, let alone words.
Caine raised an eyebrow and pushed the coffee toward me.
I took it, completely unable to keep the bafflement off my face.
“A peace offering,” he said, and I shivered again at the sound of his deep, cultured voice. “It would seem I scare you for some absurd reason.”
Our eyes locked, and my pulse was racing for an entirely different reason now.
“What are they saying about me these days?”
For a moment I forgot everything but what it was like to be lost in his beautiful eyes. “Lots,” I answered softly. “They are saying lots of things about you these days.”
He grinned, proving me wrong—he did not need a gymnast and her twin to put a smile on his face. “Well, you have me at a disadvantage. You know me, but I don’t know you.” He took a step forward and I suddenly felt overwhelmingly, deliciously surrounded by him.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. “There’s not much to tell.”
Caine dipped his head, his dark eyes liquid with a heat I felt between my legs. “Somehow I doubt that.” His eyes flickered to my lips before returning to mine. “I want to know more, Alexa.”
“Um …” The old cliché “Be careful what you wish for” suddenly floated across my mind.
He seemed to mistake the fact that I was a flustered panicked mess for deliberately being enigmatic, because he warned, “I’m not finishing this shoot until you tell me something about yourself. Time is money.” He smirked. “Gotta keep the boss happy.”
Was he referring to himself or Benito?
I stared at him, feeling my palms turn clammy as my heart rate increased, speeding up by the mounting seconds of silence stretching between us. And that was when it happened. Overwhelmed and thrown by his sudden appearance in my life after only having just discovered he was the little boy who played victim to my father’s villain, I went into meltdown. “I know you,” I blurted out. “No, I mean …” I stepped forward, edging us farther down the hall where we had more privacy. The coffee cup trembled in my hands. “My name is Alexa Holland.”
Shock moved through him.
To witness it was awful. His whole body jerked like I’d hit him, and the powerful businessman visibly paled before me.
I forged on. “My father is Alistair Holland. I know he had an affair with your mom and I know how it ended. I’m so—”