Hero(2)

Benito had tried to be understanding, but I could tell he was pissed. Instead of firing me, though, he told me to take a much-needed vacation.

Thus a few weeks later, here I was with a mighty fine tan courtesy of the Hawaiian sun, and upon my arrival this morning I’d had no clue what this photo shoot was about or for whom.

I’d received a clipped e-mail from Benito when I’d returned from my trip with the address for the photo shoot but no other information. I was his PA and I had no clue what his latest job entailed—that didn’t sound good to me.

So I was tan, yes, but I still hadn’t really sorted my head out about my mom, and was now seriously worried that the job I’d been busting my ass over for the last six years was seconds away from being flushed down a very expensive penthouse toilet. Today had to go well for me.

My anxiety had increased tenfold when I strode out of the elevator and caught sight of the people buzzing around the hallway and in the open double doors of the apartment. There were way more people at the shoot than usual, suggesting we were shooting someone particularly important. I was panicked, then, when our intern, Sofie, relayed to me that the person we were shooting was none other than Caine Carraway.

My whole body had jerked in reaction to the name and I’d started to tremble.

I hadn’t stopped trembling since.

Caine suddenly looked sharply at me as if he’d felt my gaze on him. We stared at each other, me struggling to hold on to my emotions, while he finally let go of my eyes so his could travel over my body.

Benito believed that dressing casually around celebrities impressed upon them that he and his people were not intimidated because we were on the celebrity’s level talentwise. He believed that attitude made his clients respect him more. I thought that was superficial bullshit, but it meant I got to wear whatever I liked, so I didn’t air that opinion. On shoots I often opted for whatever was most comfortable. Today that was shorts and a T-shirt.

The way Caine Carraway was looking at me right now … I might as well have been naked.

Goose bumps prickled along my arms and a shiver ran down my back.

“Alexa,” Benito snapped.

“Sorry,” I apologized, attempting not to think about Caine’s heated gaze or the burning ache that was forming in my chest.

My boss shook his head impatiently. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Just … here, take the BlackBerry back.” He slapped the device in my hand. I’d given it over to him before I left for vacation so he could give it to the temp. Benito’s world was in that BlackBerry. It had all his business contacts, e-mails, his work calendar … everything on it. I saw the e-mail icon already had fifteen unread e-mails this morning. “Get the crew organized first before you get to work. We’re shooting on the balcony with the harbor as a backdrop. Then inside in the sitting area. It’s a little darker there, so set it up.”

From there I went into autopilot. I knew my job inside and out, and that was the only reason I managed to do anything competently, because my head was not on the work. It was on the man I could barely look at as I directed one of our guys to set up Benito’s camera and laptop out on the balcony and got the lighting crew to set up in the sitting room for later.

Caine Carraway.

I knew more about him than I should because for the last few months if I heard his name or saw it in print I paid attention. Call it morbid curiosity.

Orphaned at thirteen and put into the system, Caine beat the odds and went on to graduate from high school as valedictorian and continued his education at Wharton Business School on a full ride. He’d barely graduated from college when he started up the bank that would lead to Carraway Financial Holdings. By the time he was twenty-nine he was one of the most successful businessmen in Boston. Now at thirty-three he was feared and respected by his peers, welcomed into the fold of Boston’s high society, and one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. Although he was immensely private, the society pages took snapshots of him whenever they could, mostly at glamorous events. He was seen with beautiful women all the time, but the same one was rarely pictured with him after a few months.

All of that said alone, lonely, and, closed off to me.

That ache in my chest intensified.

“Alexa, come meet Mr. Carraway.”

I felt my breathing increase exponentially and turned from Scott, our lighting technician, to find Benito standing beside Caine.

Trying to control my emotions, I walked slowly over to them both, my cheeks burning under the heat of Caine’s black gaze. On closer inspection, I could see his eyes were actually a deep, dark brown. His face was a perfectly blank mask, but his eyes were more expressive.