Stunned, I stopped struggling.
I let him kiss me, his hands moving from my arms to my hair, holding me to him as he kissed me like he needed to do so more than he needed to breathe.
Finally my brain blinked back into action and I froze, my lips no longer moving against his. Caine felt my reluctance and his kiss gentled. He brushed his mouth once, twice, over mine before pulling away.
We stared at each other, equally confused by what had just happened.
“I’m leaving” were the first words out of my mouth. “Not the apartment. I mean yes, the apartment, but more than that. Do you remember Antoine Faucheux? I introduced him to you at the airport.”
Caine’s fingers bit into my arms. I didn’t think he even realized. “I remember,” he said, his voice gruff.
“His sister offered me a job with her events management company in Paris. I accepted the offer today. I leave in four weeks.”
For a moment he searched my face as if attempting to discern my seriousness. Eventually his hands dropped from my arms and he took a step back. “Is that why you were crying?”
Anger flared through me worse than the pain I’d felt earlier. “I just told you I’m leaving Boston and that’s your reaction?”
His jaw clenched as he glared at me.
A somewhat better reaction than his previous bland question.
“No, that’s not why I was crying,” I answered anyway. “I found the photographs.”
Confused, he shrugged. “What photographs?”
“The ones you have of me, of us, in the side table.”
His reply was to take a few more wary steps back.
Renewed tears trembled on my lashes. “I’m leaving you. So the only thing you’ll have left of me are those fucking photographs.”
The blank wall came slamming down over his face.
I got it now. It was just like Effie said. Caine was never more cold and distant than when he was determined to hide what he was really feeling.
“I’m not going to stand here and have the same argument with you over and over. What I will say is that when I walk out that door I’m walking out of here hating you for throwing me away when the truth is … the truth is you love me. I know you do, even if you deny it. And if it were me, Caine, I wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of you ever hating me, no matter how far apart we are, and I will hate you if you don’t stop lying. So you either tell me what it is you’re hiding or you don’t, but you should know I will definitely never forgive you if you don’t.” I swiped away my tears. “And I’m so tired of the whole concept of unforgiveness.”
I waited for what seemed like forever for Caine to answer me. When he did I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. His eyes hard, he nodded. “Fine, you want the truth, I’ll tell you the truth, but take your pills first.”
“I can do that,” I said, not liking the brittle, snappish tone he was using.
Once I’d swallowed the pills and was seated on the sofa at the other end of the room, Caine paced for a while, back and forth in front of me.
“Are you going to sit down?” My heart had begun to pound at his increasing anxiety.
Oh God, what is he hiding?
Instead of sitting, he stopped to face me.
My stomach felt sick.
When Caine met my gaze, that feeling worsened. He looked angry, and I didn’t know if that was because of me or himself.
“Caine,” I whispered.
“I’m not the guy for you, Lex,” he said, and I knew that he truly believed it.
I flushed with annoyance. “Surely that’s my decision to make.”
“No, that’s my decision to make.”
We stared at each other while I bit back an infuriated response.
Caine crossed his arms over his chest. “Only Henry and the people involved know this about my past. I’ve worked hard to make sure it stays buried.”
Oh fuck, oh God, oh hell, oh fuck …
“At school I was working as a waiter at this fancy restaurant in Society Hill. I’d gotten into Wharton on my scholarship, but I wasn’t living in the greatest student housing in Philly and I still needed money. I needed money to survive, but I also needed money to invest. I met Henry in college and he had connections. He got me the job at the restaurant. It paid better than most … While I was there I was propositioned by this older woman. A wealthy older woman.”
If it was possible I think my heart stopped for a moment.
Caine’s gaze bored into me with some kind of twisted determination. “She offered me a lot of money.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, not believing where this confession had led. If I’d placed a bet on what his secret was, I would have lost huge. “You did it? You had sex with her for money?”
He gave a short nod, so tense he looked ready to shatter. “The way she saw it, I was perfect—I was a Wharton man, not some ignoramus off the street, but I was also poor and ambitious. She asked the right questions, worked it out, knew what she was doing, knew I might let her manipulate me. And I did. I thought what the hell? It was just her.”
Realization hit me with force. My stomach knotted. “But it wasn’t, was it?”
He shook his head. “It was the kind of titillation a bored housewife was looking for. She told a friend she trusted and before I knew it I didn’t need the waiter job. I had a clientele.” He bit the word out bitterly. “It was perfect. There was no chance of it getting out, because none of these women could afford for people to discover they were paying a college student for sex. I made enough money in nine months to invest. I invested wisely and saw a huge return. From there I invested more and so forth.”
“A big enough return to start up the bank.”
Caine finally looked at me, seeming to dare me to hate him. “Henry walked in on me with one of my clients one time and discovered the whole thing. He’s the only one who knows how far I sank to get what I want.”
“That’s why you’re weird whenever I ask about Wharton. Why you hate me around Henry, because he’s the only one who could tell me the truth?”