Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths #3)(64)
But the Cain I experienced last night is nothing like that prop. That Cain is passionate and gentle and, I’m afraid, has the ability to consume me.
That’s a treacherous position to be in, for a girl who is running.
Tomorrow.
“Charlie?” He leans forward to plead softly, “Am I forgiven?”
I don’t blame him for investigating his employees. But still, not many people go to that level of trouble. “Why not just a simple background check?”
A hand slides up to his neck, to that tattoo, rubbing it slowly as his eyes drift over the crowd. “I know the kind of world I live in, in this industry. I do a lot of things to protect myself.”
I hesitate. And then I remind myself that tonight is my only night with Cain. “Why do you do what you do? I mean the club . . . the apartment building . . .”
His face crinkles into a quick smile and then relaxes into a look of contemplation. As he takes a sip of his wine, I suspect he’s collecting his thoughts. Deciding what he wants to admit to. “Over the years, I’ve had to arrange for a lot of apartments for the dancers. Abusive boyfriends . . . infested complexes . . . ,” he gestures at me, “dangerous neighbors. It made sense to buy a building so I had a safe place to send them.” His teeth visibly clench. “I didn’t want anyone knowing that I owned it. But Tanner accidently let it get out . . .”
“Why does it matter?”
He sighs. “I don’t want the dancers feeling overwhelmed by me.” There’s a pause. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just . . . I’m afraid they’ll think I’m trying to own them. I want to help these women get away from this lifestyle. The last thing I’m trying to do is exploit them.”
“But, you’re . . .” I let my voice drift off as I see him frown.
“Yes, I’m exploiting them because I own and operate the strip club where they work.” I hear the tightness in his voice and I’m sure I’ve offended him. “I know exactly what it looks like. I feel conflicted about it every day.” His finger drags up the outside of his wineglass to catch a drop of wine. “I made most of my money before I ever opened a club. Penny’s earns a lot, but I don’t take the cuts other owners would. The dancers tip out the bartenders and bouncers, but I don’t take anything. They keep everything else that they earn. I also spend a lot of time and money trying to help where I can. Counseling, tutoring, whatever they need.” A dark, serious gaze settles on me. “If they’re going to choose this life, I can’t stop them. But I can give them a safe place while they’re in it, until they can decide to get out of it.”
“That’s very . . .” my voice drifts as I search for the right word, “. . . noble.”
“It’s more like compensating,” he says quietly, taking another small sip as he holds my gaze carefully, as if he can see me processing his vague words.
Compensating for things he has done in his past? So Cain isn’t perfect. I wonder what he’s done that’s so bad. I wonder if it’s as bad as what I’ve done. What if it’s worse? Would I forgive him if I found out he was a ra**st or a murderer? Is that worse than trafficking deadly drugs, ruining lives?
Is it the same?
Who decides?
Resting his elbows on the table and leaning in closer to me, he asks quietly, “Do you want to talk about what happened between us and what it means?”
I hadn’t expected him to bring it up so abruptly and boldly. Stalling with a long, slow sip of my wine, I finally manage to get out, “Are you always so direct?”
That earns a sheepish smile. “I don’t do small talk well.” His finger trails around the rim of his glass. “It seems like a waste of time.”
“It can be,” I agree. In the case of Cain and me, this couldn’t be more true. There is a clock ticking for us and it is going to stop.
Tomorrow.
Will it bother Cain when I leave? Will he be upset with me if I don’t say goodbye? Should I tell him? Maybe I should let him know that I won’t be around much longer, so he knows this can’t turn into anything—
“Cain! What a pleasant surprise.” The female voice next to our table catches me completely off guard and I let out an exhale, not realizing I had been holding my breath. I turn to find a tall redheaded woman with shiny pink lips and creamy skin standing next to us, her eyes locked on Cain.
His expression doesn’t give anything away, but the four-second pause sure does. He’s shocked to see this woman and, though I can’t be sure, he may not be happy. “Larissa.” Pulling his chair out, he stands to place a kiss on each cheek. “What are you doing in Miami?” He’s completely polite, but I catch the slightest strain in his tone.
If I had to guess, I’d say the woman is in her early thirties. By her Manolos and her designer suit, she’s got money. By the way she’s smiling at Cain right now, she has good taste in men.
By the hardening in my stomach, I think she’s had a taste of Cain.
She certainly doesn’t look like a woman who has ever graced the stage of Penny’s before.
Her manicured finger points toward a building across the water, on the other side of the bay. “My firm did the interior design for the new luxury hotel that opened this weekend. I needed to show my face. It was a big thing in the media.”