But, Cain, your parents…
Are too busy schmoozing with your parents and everyone else to even notice.
You’re such a child, Cain Edward Shaw.
See if you can kiss some responsibility into me, then. It’ll be fun.
And it had been, until Cain’s father had caught them and brought his considerable power to bear, forcing Jesse to choose: Cain, or his scholarship and any hope of a happy future.
It had broken his heart at the time, but Cain didn’t fault Jesse for walking away from him. Hell, the only guilty parties in this mess were Cain himself, for thinking he’d ever deserve someone like Jesse, and his father, whoto this dayhad kept tabs on every aspect of Jesse’s life and had threatened to take it all away if Cain didn’t toe the line.
So here sat Cain Shaw, the rich, white, educated son of one of the most powerful men in the country, unable to visit the restroom without permission from his mother.
Fucking pathetic.
Shouts at the door caught his attention, and he looked up, expecting to see gatecrashers or (his personal favorite) protesters. At this point,anydrama would be a welcome respite from his own.
Instead, he saw the duo of security guards wrestling a tall man in a black hoodie to the floor -hard.
"I said I want to see Shaw!” the guy shouted, as one of the guards practically knelt on his back. “He owes me!”
No shit. Get in line, buddy,Cain thought.But then it struck him that something about the guy seemed weirdly familiar. The voice - gravelly and rough, like he was perpetually angry - made prickles of sensation dance through Cain's chest, and he got to his feet in a second, heading toward the man.
“Parker, call for backup," the guard holding the man down said to the one still standing. "This guy's drunk and belligerent."
Cain’s heart beat faster and time seemed to slow down. The broad shoulders and sturdy frame - so proud and powerful - were familiar, but it was the steel-gray hair pulled into a queue at the nape of the man’s neck that was a dead giveaway. It was the very last person he’d expected to see here, despite the fact that the man had been on his mind, directly and indirectly, all night. For one stunned second, Cain wondered if he’d somehow conjured him.
"I amnotdrunk," Damon yelled, although the slur in his voice belied his words. "I have a right to be here. To speak to the senator."
Oh, Damon.
The security guard called Parker saw Cain approach and took a step forward. "You're gonna wanna stand back, Mr. Shaw," he said, forearm thrust out to block Cain's way.
Fuck that.
Cain couldn’t say precisely why he felt compelled to intervene on Damon’s behalf - the guy was drunk off his ass, and had every reason to hate Cain’s guts, so maybe hewasa threat. Maybe the guards were right to want to contain him.
But Cain was so damntiredof being powerless. He’d be damned if he’d let Damon self-destruct this way, getting himself arrested orworse.
Not if he could help it.
He drew himself up straight, managing to look down his nose at the guard though the man was a full six inches taller than Cain.
"I thinkyouare going to want to stand aside," he said haughtily. "I know this man."
"But Mr. Shaw," Parker said, looking dubiously from Cain to the man on the floor. "He's not on the invitation list, and he doesn't have any identification on him. Says he wants to see Senator Shaw, and he’s three sheets to the wind."
“He’s a friend of mine, and his pain medication makes him disoriented.”
Parker seemed unconvinced, looking to the guard on the floor for advice. Damon struggled to break free, and the guard on the floor shook his head.No way are we letting him go.
"And what is your name?" Cain demanded of the second guard.
"Rodney."
"Rodney," Cain said, repeating the name like he was committing it to memory, which he was. "Do you know who I am?”
The guard was fighting Damon, so he grunted as he replied. “You’re Shaw’s kid.”
