28. Erica
When I wake up at noon in the president’s suite in the most expensive hotel in San Antonio, Cain is gone.
A note lies on his pillow.
Good morning, Erica.
I’m sorry I’m not there to kiss you awake.
I need to take care of some business, but I’ll see you tonight, little dove.
Can’t wait to have you in my arms again.
C.
An icy void settles into my chest, and I hug myself.
Without Cain, I feel small and foreign in the large room high above the city, but I drag myself out of bed and go for a shower.
Just as I’m about to call room service for a solitary lunch, a knock comes from the door.
Amanda stands outside, armed with that sunshine smile of hers.
My mood instantly gets better.
From her suite across the hallway, she lugs in two suitcases.
She insists on doing my makeup and hair, and I agree enthusiastically.
How often do I get the chance of letting a professional work her magic on me?
The offer is too good to pass up, and honestly, I’m grateful for the company.
We order food and take our time eating and chatting before she sits me down on a chair in the middle of the living space.
Because that’s where the best natural light is , she claims.
Suddenly, I’m goddamn Cinderella and Amanda is my fairy godmother.
It’s a role she takes awfully seriously.
She’s normally such a talkative person, it’s startling how quiet she is while she’s in the zone.
Amanda chooses a seductive smokey eye with a nude lipstick for me, and she arranges my hair in soft waves around my shoulders.
Unlike many makeup artists I’ve seen online, she takes care to highlight my best features instead of trying to paint on new ones to follow trends.
We picked out my silk gown together during our shopping trip and she helps me to put it on.
It’s a sleek, forest-green dress with thin straps, a deep V-cut in the front and a high slit on the right side of the skirt.
I accessorize with neutral beige heels—red bottoms as Amanda insists—and understated gold jewelry.
A designer clutch with rhinestones finishes off my look.
When I’m ready, Amanda disappears into her room for half an hour.
She returns wearing a sparkly, figure-hugging dress in a dark shade of crimson.
Her hair is in a playful updo, sharp eyeliner and red lips fit for a movie star.
While I gush about her gown and tell her how stunning she is, Amanda ushers me out of the suite and into the elevator.
My heart beats out of my chest as we reach the ballroom on the top floor.
A sign in the foyer reads “ VIPs only. Closed celebration. ” Guests in elegant attire funnel toward a roped off entrance, and a lady with a clipboard asks their names before a massive security guard in a black uniform allows them to enter.
My breath quickens.
Unless I count prom, I’ve never been to a formal event and I’m equally anxious and excited about what the evening will bring.
Hopefully strong drinks.
Maybe dancing.
But what—or rather who— really catches my attention is my date for the night:
Dr.
Cain Morrow in a fucking tuxedo.
He stands off to the side of the entrance, a deep frown etched on his forehead while he adjusts his cufflinks.
He hasn’t seen us yet, and I use the chance to gawk shamelessly.
His black tux is a flawless fit, from the collar hugging his strong neck to the jacket draping smoothly over his broad shoulders.
He’s at least a head taller than anyone else in the foyer and his stance exudes casual, yet unshakable confidence.
Butterflies rise in my stomach and dampness seeps through my lace panties.
Getting kidnapped by a man who could grace the front page of any magazine sure is something.
Cain runs a hand over his slicked back curls and finally looks up.
Our eyes meet and his brow smooths.
His gaze drags along my body like a trail of fire, making my skin prickle with an invisible touch while he walks toward us.
A smirk tilts his lips as he catches my hand and twirls me around, my skirt fluttering.
“Goodness gracious, little dove! Look at you! Your beauty takes my breath away.” He kisses me and my knees weaken as I giggle into his mouth.
“The green really brings out your stunning eyes.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, blushing like I’m a teen on a first date with her high school crush.
“I missed you, darlin’. Sorry I’ve been busy all day. A million people from the medical and science industry wanted to speak to me. Everybody’s trying to convince me to invest in their projects or to work for them, but through it all, I could only think of your gorgeous smile.” He kisses me again, deeply and with tongue until I slap his chest, and he stops, grinning.
“Ah, young love is wonderful,” Amanda says and sighs theatrically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead like she’s going to faint.
Cain shakes his head, but he keeps smiling.
“I’m ten years older than you, Mandy.”
“And?” Amanda shrugs.
“You’re so adorable together, I can’t help myself! But as much as it makes me swoon, you’ll have to save some of the lovey-dovey stuff for later. They’re expecting us inside the ballroom.”
The security guard waves us through a side entrance when he sees Cain.
The hall is packed.
Crystal chandeliers glimmer overhead, and the soft murmur of conversations drifts on gentle music, played by a string quartet in the corner.
Servers with silver trays offer drinks to the guests standing shoulder to shoulder.
“All of San Antonio’s rich and famous are here tonight,” Amanda says.
“I’d love to introduce you to some friends, but I have to get on stage to moderate the event. It’s become a tradition because my dear brother refuses to play host.” She scrunches her face and Cain grimaces.
“You know I despise being in the spotlight,” he says with a stony expression.
“Oh, I’m just teasing!” She pouts.
“I do enjoy being the host, but most people still only know me as brilliant Dr. Morrow’s little sister, anyway.” Amanda laughs, affectionate pride in her eyes as she looks at her brother.
“Don’t forget your speech coming up after my introduction, Cain.”
He groans.
“Ugh, how could I forget.”
Amanda kisses my cheek, then Cain’s, and dashes onward into the crowd.
A sour expression twists his features as he glances around the room.
“I hate these events and I hate public speaking. If I wanted that, I would have become a politician.”
“ I don’t hate this ,” I say, very obviously sliding my eyes along his body.
“It shouldn’t surprise me that you pull off a tux as well as you pull off a cowboy hat and boots. But still…” I let out a quiet whistle, and a flush of pink appears on Cain’s clean-shaven cheeks.
He leans in to whisper and offers me his arm.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’. I almost liked it better when you were vile, cause your compliments got me blushing like a damn schoolboy and there ain’t nothing I can do about it. I’m putty in your hands.”
“I like making you blush.”
“Bet you do.” He winks and leads me around the side of the room to a quiet spot by buffet tables stacked with hors d’oeuvres.
A server offers us champagne and we each take a glass.
I sip from it, humming as I appreciate the fine bubbles and subtle notes of citrus and peach.
This is the good stuff.
“Surely, you’re no stranger to compliments, curly? I can’t imagine you’ve never been told how devilishly handsome you are,” I say, squeezing his arm.
“Every single woman in this room has been devouring you with her eyes since we walked in.”
He scoffs.
“I don’t give a damn about any of these people. None of them matter. When will you finally understand that I only want you , Erica? I hope that in time, you might want me as well. And maybe, if I’m really lucky, you’ll even like me a little, too.”
I almost drop the champagne.
The words forming on my tongue have my heart racing in tandem with my thoughts.
“Cain, I—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please!” Amanda’s voice rings out from the speakers.
My lips press into a tight smile and Cain’s shoulders drop.
Can one be relieved and disappointed at the same time?
About what, I’m not sure.
At this point, I’m not even certain what I meant to say.
That I already want him, even though I shouldn’t?
That I like him?
That I couldn’t stop thinking about him the whole time we were apart?
That I felt cold and lost without him today?
The music and conversations quieten, replaced by polite clapping, and the collective focus shifts to Amanda.
She practically glows under the stage lights, the sequins on her dress glittering like rubies while she’s basking in the attention.
“Good evening! My name is Amanda Morrow and I’m honored to host this year’s Little Hearts fundraiser again. Before we get into the entertainment and cheque writing, please welcome the man whose generous contributions have kept the Little Hearts Hospital open, funded the extensive renovations and the new transplant wing finished earlier this month. My brother, Dr. Cain Morrow!”
My eyes widen.
Contributions as in donations ?
“Excuse me, darlin’,” Cain says quietly and puts his glass on a table behind him.
The mass of people parts for him as he walks to the stage and climbs the steps by the side.
Amanda hands him the microphone, but when he addresses the guests, my heart stutters.
Until that moment, I didn’t realize that Cain’s special smiles are just for me.
The tilt of his lips doesn’t reach his eyes as he glances over the sea of guests.
True affection shines in them when he looks at his sister, but it’s still different than when he smiles at me.
The grins he gives me are softer and lighter, hotter at the same time, and utterly, devastatingly adoring.
Cain wears different masks for the world.
Loving, responsible brother for Amanda.
Serious businessman and calm doctor for work.
It must be exhausting, keeping up the act.
Am I the only person to see his true, unfiltered self?
Cain speaks about the hospital’s development and other charity projects he’s invested in, encouraging everyone to lend their support to medical research and advancement, especially in the pediatric sector.
He talks about how fortunate everyone gathered in the room is, and that it’s the responsibility of the lucky ones like them to help those in need.
Every word seems carefully chosen to be diplomatic without losing its bite.
His stern charm and passionate appeal work, and many guests already take out their cheque books.
Strangely, the cute drawl has entirely disappeared from his speech.
His accent is the very definition of academically neutral.
It’s sad he feels like he has to hide his drawl, but I know how irrationally prejudiced some people can be.
As soon as he has said his bit, Cain gives the microphone back to Amanda and walks offstage to another round of earnest, but polite applause.
When he returns to me, he takes my hand.
“I need to get out of here for a bit,” he says, pulling me along to a set of doors leading to a wraparound balcony.
“I can’t stand another second with hundreds of eyes following my every damn move.”