The Ocean On Their Shoulders

Chapter 29

With such a damning photo in hand, it would be dubious to think now that he didn't have a sort of one-up against the upcoming power couple. However, Ryan also wasn't expecting such a nonchalant reaction to the photo; only fanning his curiosity about the history between Jane and Fontaine. The tycoon may say one thing, but all evidence was leading to another: the man wasn't who he claimed himself to be - outright, anyway. And who was Jane? Leading different lives as well with her multiple last names now just coming to light. He supposes the only way to get any sort of answer was to put the two in the spotlight and see how they react to the pressure. Though, he'd be lucky enough to see them crack.

~*~

The room was a blur of abstract shapes and colors as the ceiling shifted and rocked like steady waves against the side of a ship. Her head felt like it bobbled and swayed, even in her reclined state and resting along the pillow as it was. The whined moan to rumble in her chest didn't even sound like it was coming from her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the bedroom.

God, what time was it?

She tried to lift her head to look at the bedside clock, but any movement - no matter how slight - caused a violent spell of nausea to rush from her head to her gut. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jane swore under her breath as her gaze darted toward the end of the bed once she spotted some movement.

"Good, she's alive."

Her eyes rolled shut again as he approached, another groan tumbling from barely parted and cracked lips. Even as she swallowed, her mouth burned and ached, feeling like her cheeks were stuffed with cotton. She had whined his name, long and drawn out, with hands fisting into the comforter and pulling it up over her nose.

"What happened?" Her question was muffled behind the fabric. "Why does it feel like I got hit by a goddamn bus?"

Frank had knelt on one knee next to the bed, an amused but equally sympathetic look lining his features.

"'Cause shitty alcohol will do that to ya."

Oh, right.

"I think you drank almost two bottles of wine, an' stole my drink a coupla times."

Jane felt her head pound at just him mentioning it, "And you didn't think to stop me, or anything?"

He shrugged, "You seemed like you were havin' a good time. Especially after the ceremony an' everythin'. Finally loosened up a bit, laughin', gettin' into the show."

Well, she's glad it sounds like she had a good time.

"Just - ignore the bruises, if you see any," Frank mentioned as he started standing up, her eyes going wide with a hand instinctively raising to her neck.

"What -"

"I forgot you tend to get a little...round-heeled when you drink a lot" He reached to place the back of his hand along her forehead, feeling for her temperature as he had been doing all night. "Could hardly keep you off my lap for most of the night. Not like I didn't want that or anythin' anyway." His grin was shit-eating as he removed his hand, satisfied she didn't seem to be running a fever anymore and reached for the glass of water he'd set on her nightstand.

Jane knit her brows in opposition as he coaxed her to sit up - and with the sudden bombardment of fragmented memories from the previous night. She remembers being incredibly clingy in her drunken state, refusing to sit in her chair in Fontaine's private viewing box. However, it seemed he wasn't going to argue with her anyway as she'd steal kiss after kiss, addicted to the taste of whiskey on his lips. Everything was mostly a blur of roaming hands and lips leaving bruises etched into each other's skin.