CHAPTER 111: WIGGLING IN

The helicopter ride back to Cain’s district was tense and silent. Even Frank, Cain’s head of security, knew better than to speak, sitting at the very back, as still and quiet as the air around them.

Cain sat in his seat, his gaze fixed on the clouds drifting by as the helicopter cut through the sky. Fiona, however, couldn’t find the same calm. Her restlessness was palpable.

She couldn’t shake the memory of the raw hatred and disgust she had seen in Cain’s eyes when he spoke to her earlier. The image gnawed at her, filling her with anxiety. She kept stealing glances at him, unable to quell the shiver that ran down her spine.

Does he not care? she wondered, her thoughts a whirlpool of doubt and unease. Finally, she found the courage to speak, her voice low and soft, just as Eldric had taught her to be when addressing someone as intimidating as Cain.

"Cain," she began, her tone measured and delicate, "you might not remember, but we spent our childhood together. I might even go so far as to call us friends."

Her words hung in the air, unanswered. Cain didn’t even turn his head, pretending to hear nothing but the drone of the helicopter blades and the whisper of the wind.

Undeterred, she pressed on, her voice trembling slightly, as if she were on the verge of tears. "I’m not here to cause chaos. I just needed a way to get away from Father, and I asked him for permission. I didn’t know he would threaten you."

Her words grew softer, more desperate, as she searched for any sign of acknowledgment. "Cain—"

She barely finished his name when Cain turned sharply, his glare cutting through her like a blade. His voice was cold and commanding, raising in volume enough to make her flinch.

"If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop talking to me," he snapped before turning away and pulling a pair of headphones down over his ears.

Though his superior hearing would still pick up every word she said, the gesture was a clear signal: he wanted nothing more than to block her out completely.

Despite his dismissal, Fiona’s eyes stayed fixed on him. There was an undeniable longing in her gaze as she studied him, from his broad shoulders to his muscular thighs and down to his legs. Even with the physical distance between them, her imagination ran wild. She pictured herself under him, overpowered by his strength as he held her down, taking her with an intensity that sent a flush through her body.

Swallowing hard, Fiona tore her gaze away and turned to stare out at the clouds on her side of the helicopter. But she couldn’t resist glancing at Cain at intervals, her thoughts refusing to quiet for the remainder of the flight.

When they finally landed, servants moved to handle her luggage. Fiona wasn’t surprised when she saw Cain’s guard, Frank, step forward to block her from entering the same car as Cain. His hand gestured firmly toward another vehicle meant for her.

Though anger boiled beneath the surface, Fiona forced a soft smile onto her face. She looked at the guard, who didn’t spare her a second glance before climbing into the car with Cain. Without protest, she moved to the other car, using the brief moment of solitude to steady her nerves.

Keep calm, Fiona. You can’t lose your composure when you’re so close to your goal, she reminded herself, gripping the edge of her seat as the car drove toward the mansion. The forced smile stayed plastered on her face, even as frustration threatened to crack it.

The cars reached the estate within ten minutes, parking just inside the gate. Fiona stepped out of her car as quickly as it stopped, her focus immediately shifting to Cain, who was already striding toward the mansion. Ignoring everything else, she hurried to keep pace with him, determined not to be left behind.

She was about to follow him up the stairs when Cain’s voice stopped her in her tracks. It was the first acknowledgment of her presence since the helicopter ride, and it startled her.

"Frank will lead you to another section of the mansion where you’ll stay," Cain said, gesturing toward the guard.

Fiona’s response was immediate, though she maintained her composed demeanor. She shook her head, her smile unwavering. "I refuse to stay anywhere but the best rooms you have," she said, subtly pointing toward the stairs Cain was ascending, clearly indicating she knew his wing housed the finest accommodations.

Cain’s eyes hardened. "Frank will take you to the best rooms on the other side of the mansion," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Still, Fiona didn’t waver. "Father would be very disappointed to hear that I’m not being treated well," she replied, lowering her head in a gesture of feigned humility.

I won’t let you get rid of me, she thought, the frail image she projected belying the anger simmering beneath. She gritted her teeth, furious at being dismissed so easily, but refused to let her facade crack.

The tension between them thickened as Cain considered his options. For a brief moment, he thought about appealing to her better nature, or the part of her that claimed to have affection for him. But the idea felt exhausting, and he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to try.

With a resigned sigh, Cain turned and continued up the stairs, his mind already made up. He decided to give her the farthest room from his own, frustrated at the inconvenience of having her in his home at all.

They had just reached the top of the staircase when the door to Cain’s room opened. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. The familiar presence was unmistakable. Fiona, too, seemed to sense who it might be. Her movements quickened, and she positioned herself closer to Cain, angling her body subtly toward his.

A seductive smile curved her lips as she prepared to meet the person emerging from his room. Her posture was calculated, every detail of her demeanor designed to make an impression. She waited, her heart racing, as the door slowly swung open, revealing the male figure coming out of his room which could only be ’Cain’s lover!’