34. Erica
When Cain brings me to his office, I realize I’ve never seen it before.
Not properly.
That time when Amanda visited, I was too distracted by my jealousy to take in the details.
It’s the smallest room in the house but it has distinct old money vibes with a cozy touch.
Centered on an oriental carpet in muted shades of red is a large oak desk with drawers.
A metallic desk lamp stands next to a computer monitor on top of it, plus a wireless mouse and keyboard, and a leather-upholstered chair behind it.
Two walls are occupied by massive, dark shelves, stuffed with medical literature.
“You made these, too?” I ask, pointing at the shelves.
“Naw, I inherited them from my mother. The whole study and all the furniture, actually. She used to lock herself away in here for entire nights, working.” He gives a mirthless chuckle.
“And drinking.”
Unlike the rest of the home, which is decorated with hunting trophies, artwork, and landscape photography of local scenery, a sideboard by an armchair in the corner is dedicated to framed family pictures.
It seems like he’s hidden them away in here.
Is it because they’re important to him or because they evoke too many difficult emotions?
Cain takes my hand, tugging on it as I pause to look at the pictures.
Clearly this isn’t what he meant when he mentioned a surprise, but I slip from his grasp.
My heart warms as I pick up a photograph of a smiling, blond little girl on a brown pony and a grinning teenage boy with wild, dark curls on a larger, black horse.
A tall man wearing a cowboy hat and boots holds the reins of the pony, smirking into the camera.
He has a thick, dark mustache and sun-tanned skin.
“You and Amanda were cute kids,” I say.
“You both seem happy in this picture.”
“A ranch is a fun place for children,” Cain responds diplomatically.
“And that’s your dad?”
“Yeah, Wyatt Morrow in the flesh.”
“Handsome fella. You look a lot like him. Same sharp jawline, same strong nose, same pitch-black hair. The curls as well. And he seems tall, too.”
“Folks used to say I’m the spitting image of him.”
I giggle.
“I’m glad you don’t have a big mustache like him.”
“Not my style.”
The familiar click of Cain’s lighter comes from behind me before the smell of tobacco reaches my nose.
A thin cloud of grey smoke wafts around me as I put down the picture and pick up another.
A family portrait.
“That’s my mother Charlotte,” he says and points at a stunning woman sitting on a fancy chair.
It reminds me of a small throne.
She has a regal aura to match, like I imagine someone from a line of noble lords and ladies from England to look.
Long, dark blond hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, and her legs are crossed at the ankles.
Her expression is stern, head held high and proud.
She wears a beige two-piece suit with a skirt, an immaculately pressed blouse underneath, and a string of pearls nestled into the collar.
Amanda stands by her side, probably two or three years old.
She holds Charlotte’s hand and is dressed in a ruffled, cream-colored gown, her hair in two neat braids.
Cain is on the other side of his mother.
He seems stiff, frowning as if he hates wearing that navy blue suit and a tie, but one person in the picture is decidedly more awkward than him.
His dad.
Wyatt poses behind Charlotte, one hand on her shoulder.
He’s giving a forced grin like he’s trying to hide how much he wants to jump out of his perfectly tailored, dark suit and shiny dress shoes.
Clean-shaven and without the hat and boots, he looks like a whole other man.
Cain steps beside me, inhaling a long drag as he takes the picture from my hands.
Smoke comes from his mouth in a sigh.
“Dad was a good man and I loved him, but he was too soft. He could never say no to mother. He never had the guts to do what he had to do.”
“What should he have done?”
Cain scoffs.
“Not given a shit about our family’s reputation and made her go into rehab, right when she showed the first signs of addiction. He should have forced her if he had to. He knew her drinking got worse over the years. All the pressure from her job and the estrangement from her family because they hated dad… I think it was harder on mother than she let on. I should’ve been there for her more.”
Emotions swell in my throat and I put a hand on Cain’s arm.
“That sounds like such a complicated situation, especially with children caught in the middle of it. But you can’t blame yourself, you were just a kid.”
“Yeah, I was a kid at first, but then I grew up. If I tried harder to put aside my own frustration as an adult… maybe if I tried to talk to her and convinced her to stop drinking, they’d be here with us now.”
The grief in his eyes cracks my chest down the middle.
“It’s not your fault, Cain. You can’t force someone to get sober, no matter how much you want them to. They have to want it themselves.”
He shakes his head, and I’m not sure he heard me when he continues speaking.
“And maybe if they were still here when Amanda got sick, I wouldn’t have had to—” He cuts himself off with a sarcastic laugh.
“Doesn’t matter. The past is in the past. I can’t undo it, but I can learn from it.”
Cain puts the picture back and wraps his free arm around my waist, pressing me against him.
“I might look like my dad, but I won’t make the same mistakes. I’ll do what I must to protect my family and that includes you, Erica. That’s why I brought you here today.” He kisses my forehead.
“You’re the most important person in the world to me now, and I’d do anything to make you happy. We might not have met like a normal couple, but I want this to work, darlin’. No more of this power imbalance. I want us to be partners on a level playing field based on trust, and I think you’re ready.”
I blink.
Cain has talked about marriage before.
Of keeping me.
And of killing me if I ever run from him.
But he’s never spoken so openly about trust.
The whole time we’ve been together, I’ve been his prey, not an equal.
He must have broken me after all, because tears sting my eyes.
Not tears of fear or anger, but tears of joy.
No one has ever chosen me.
I’m never a priority for anyone, just an option.
But to Cain, I am important.
The most important person in the world .
His brows flicker, jaw tightening more with each second I don’t respond, but his eyes are soft, so gentle I could lose myself in their mossy green depths.
Maybe this thing we have, no, this relationship is fucked up.
So what if it is?
Maybe he’s a depraved killer.
So what if he is?
Cain is also a caring and loving man.
He protects me, feeds me, clothes me, and gives me a better home than I ever had.
He saved my life.
I remember the photograph of us on the table in the police station.
Even when he kidnapped me, he cared in his own, twisted way.
He could’ve thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
But in the picture he carried me like a lover, like I’m something precious and rare.
And in this moment, as he embraces me, Cain is a normal person.
He’s a guy who wants nothing more than to protect the people he cares about and make them happy.
A human with needs and dreams like every other on this planet.
A man who longs to be seen and heard and held and loved exactly as he is, with all his sins, all his shadows and all his light.
My belly tingles as I find my voice.
“I think I’d like that,” I whisper and smile.
“A life with you.”
I can’t believe I just said that and meant it—and apparently, neither can Cain.
His eyes widen, pupils dilated.
The cigarette drops from his fingers as he stares at me slack jawed.
A wave of anxiety barrels through me, urging me to break the silence.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.
“I’m sorry if—”
Cain grabs my face, his palms rough against my skin.
His mouth smashes into mine, and I let out a giggle as our teeth clack softly.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing myself closer.
Closer.
It’s a little like our first kiss, laced with desperate need and the taste of smoke.
Yet there is much more to it now than the night in the motel.
Then, it was pure lust, but this is not just a demanding kiss.
It’s slow, full of endless yearning and it sends flutters through my stomach.
“Fuck, I love you so much, Erica,” he whispers, and the floor gives out beneath my feet.
I cling to him, dizzy and hot and weak.
Is that what I feel, too?
Love ?
I always want to be close to Cain.
I melt into his embrace, and his smile makes me want to smile.
Calm permeates me when he holds me in bed at night before I fall asleep.
His touch sets me alight when he seduces me, and he makes pain feel like a feather’s kiss.
Am I in love with my captor ?
We look into each other’s eyes for what seems like an eternity, until smoke rises between us.
Cain’s gaze drops.
“Aw, shit!” He stomps on the carpet.
When he lifts his boot, it reveals crumpled tobacco, torn cigarette paper—and a walnut-sized hole in the soft pile.
He laughs.
“Good thing I’m not attached to this old rug, cause you’re one hell of a distraction, darlin’.”
“You can buy a new one.”
“I just gotta be careful I don’t burn down the whole house next time you so much as smile at me. But forget about the goddamn carpet.” He takes my chin between two fingers.
“Do you really want to be my partner and my equal?”
I nod.
“Do you trust me, Erica?”
The shocking truth stops my heart for a split second.
“I trust you,” I whisper.
Cain grins.
“Then are you gonna be my good girl and follow me into the darkness?”
By now, this dynamic between us is familiar and it brings me so much comfort.
He commands and I obey.
I know what to do, what to expect.
The lines are clear cut…
unlike my emotions.
“Yes, Dr. Morrow.”
He kisses my forehead and walks around the desk, reaching underneath the tabletop.
A click sounds.
My eyes widen when one of the bookshelves pushes outward, sliding in front of the others to reveal a metal door.
Cain strides toward it.
He brings his face to a biometric scanner before inputting a multi-digit number into a keypad.
With a hiss and a whirr, the thick door pops open.
There’s a bright hallway behind it, elevator doors at the end.
Cain holds out his hand and my heart soars when our fingers entwine.
He doesn’t have to tell me where we’re going.
We’re heading straight into the predator’s den, but this time, I’m not afraid.
This time I’m not a victim.
I’m Cain’s partner, and I’m determined to prove that I’m worthy of standing by his side.