Losing Control

Too personal, Alexa.

But at least he can’t see my insides wince at the revealing nature of my anger.

‘You walked out on us all.’

There, that sounded better.

‘I did what I felt I had to...at the time.’

‘And now?’

For the briefest of seconds his lashes flutter, as though I’ve inflicted a physical blow, but then it’s gone and I realise I imagined it. I also realise that whatever glimpse I thought I had three months ago of a man in pain, or just now of a man who cares about the working hours I keep, he doesn’t really exist.

This is Cain.

And he only cares for himself.

‘Going over old ground isn’t the reason I’m here.’

I’m disappointed with his evasive answer. The rejected part of me—the part left to survive after he fled, the part that gave birth to our stillborn child without him—wants to have that argument. Wants him to acknowledge what he did and to see him beg forgiveness.

But only a fool would expect such humanity from Cain, and I’m no longer that fool.

‘So, what is the reason you’re here?’

I cross my legs and turn my chair slightly, angling it to face him. I don’t miss how his eyes sweep my length. I’m wearing a teal satin blouse, buttoned almost to the collar, and a black skirt to the knee. All perfectly respectable, but I swear I see the flicker of what I know is dangerous, what I should ignore... Only the ache kickstarting down low has other ideas.

I watch his throat bob. His eyes strike mine, a second’s fire, and then nothing. The mask slips back into place.

Cold Cain. Composed Cain. Downright callous Cain.

This is the man I can deal with.

‘I haven’t got all night and, as you so rightly pointed out, I should have left hours ago,’ I remind him, sickly-sweet. And then I have to wonder... ‘How did you know I was here, anyway?’

‘My mother. I paid her a visit first.’

My mouth quirks up. ‘You paid her a visit—how awfully dashing of you.’

His eyes flash, and his annoyance is like catnip to me. We never argued, Cain and I—not really. Unless you count that one occasion. The occasion that ended it all. And it’s oddly thrilling to do it now, when I owe him nothing—no love, no respect, no loyalty.

‘She told me you’re often here until the early hours of the morning.’

He looks to my desk, the spread-out papers, the mess, and I fight the urge to scoop it all up into something orderly. He has no right to judge me. And I’m a scientist through and through—ordered chaos is how I live my life.

‘Although I have to admit...’ his eyes come back to me with some hidden question burning deep ‘... I’m surprised to see you here. I half expected it to be some cover for your extra-curricular activities.’

His words spike both ice and fire into my blood. ‘Are you insinuating I’ve lied to Marie to cover up an affair?’

He shrugs. ‘Can you blame me? The second I left you jumped into bed with my brother. Why shouldn’t I think the worst?’

My stomach lurches. ‘What would you know of it? You were long gone—completely off-grid, no contact number, nothing.’

‘Oh, I came back. To see a ring on your finger and my brother at your side.’

‘You...?’ I can’t even swallow. I feel dizzy, sick. ‘When?’

‘Three months later. Can you imagine my surprise at returning home only to find you were all out at the registry office, of all places? Of course I had to go there myself to truly believe it. And there you were, the blushing bride, all innocent and happy.’