A/N: Wow, I am so sorry for disappearing on you all. I'm afraid I've been distracted by life and other fandoms. But thank you so much to everyone who's been reading, following and especially to everyone who's left a review! Getting a recent one actually inspired me to finish up this chapter, so thank you! And horray for the power of reviews!

Ren leaned against the wall and tried to focus.

Somehow his mind kept circling back to a certain hotel room and a certain girl he'd left there.

He shivered despite himself and closed his eyes.

It was just so hard to think about work when all he wanted to do was be back there.

And it wasn't just because of the corsets, and the smouldering eyes and the pouty lips and the creamy exposed skin. (Though, god knows, he was probably going to hell for the amount of time he spent thinking about them.).

It was the arm around his waist, soft hair under his chin, smelling faintly of strawberries under the hairspray, pressing close whether they were walking down the street or cuddling on the sofa. It was in the thrill of a shared secret, and the terrible knowledge that he could touch her whenever he wanted and she would lean in. Only he could stop himself. And mostly it was the warmth (just for him ) in her voice, in his chest, hand in his, lips on his skin.

He rubbed the side of his neck where the mark had been, long since faded, then dropped his hand hastily.

A few people had commented on what was becoming a nervous habit, speculating on where it had come from. A few gossip columnists had hit unnervingly close to the mark.

It needed to stop.

Something nudged his arm and he opened his eyes to see a bottle of cold water in Yashiro's hand. He took it without comment and cracked it open, suddenly ridiculously thirsty.

He'd taken a long gulp, before realising he hadn't even thanked his manager. Who was watching him reproachfully with a raised eyebrow. He forced a smile.

"Sorry. Thank you, Yashiro. I've been a little distracted."

"So I can see," his manger commented, attempting to catch his skittering eye. "Care to tell me why?"

Ren didn't respond, which was answer enough.

He heard Yashiro sigh and turn away, leaving him to stew in peace.

He rubbed his neck again without thinking and stretched.

In all honesty, he was tired.

It had been a long, boring morning. Which, he guiltily admitted to himself, was probably partly his fault. He had been less engaged with the director and his co-star than he should have been.

But it was hard to care.

Sharing a hotel room with Kyoko was not good for his sleep patterns; and the strain of restraining himself around her – even buried under the guise of Cain – was not helping.

And all the while, Cain's voice was whispering in the back of his mind that in a few hours – only a few – they'd get to see her again.

He shifted his weight and tried to think of something else.

At least it was good for his performance. It wasn't much of a stretch to convey 'anguished longing and frustration'.

At least, it would have been if he wasn't so out of it. At the very least, Yashiro had definitely noticed. He'd been shooting him funny looks all morning.

Ren silently vowed to put Kyoko completely out of his mind.

And heard the dull thud of a muffler hitting the floor, just as the muted susurrus of gossip broke out on the set, spreading like ripples on a millpond.

Some premonition gripped him, a thrill of knowing before he'd even raised his eyes.

And there she was.

Resplendent in her impassivity.

Until her eyes fell on him. At once they seemed to sharpen, and a glimmer of a smirk played along her lips.

He was distantly aware of Yashiro saying something, and he must have reacted in some way because he was suddenly alone.

And she was sashaying towards him, hips swaying. He honestly wasn't sure he could have looked away, even if he wanted to.

Not that he minded.

He knew she could see him looking. So could everyone else, for that matter.

The smirk grew knowingly and he could see that conspiratorial gleam in her eye as she neared him.

Thoughts of his wholesome reputation, of gossip, of Cain Heel's anonymity melted away.

It was just the two of them, in their own private world.

His lips curled to match hers.

And she was there, looking up at him through long eyelashes, resting her hand on his arm as she leaned into him.

"Nii-san," she breathed. "I missed you."

"Setsu," Cain rumbled back, the word coming from deep in his chest. "What are you doing here?"

She pouted, tilting her head coquettishly. Do I need a reason to come see my Nii-san?"

Her hands were sliding up his arms distractingly. He caught her elbows reflexively, pulling her closer.

"You know I'm working." He might have tried to sound reproachful, but how could be ever scold his little sister?

She knew it too.

"But Nii-san. I've something to tell you. It's important." She'd lowered her voice unnecessarily, since no one was close enough to hear them, forcing him to lean even closer.

Her breath was warm on his ear.

"So, tell me." He murmured.

Her eyes slid to the side, and for the first time he remembered they weren't alone.

Over her shoulder he caught sight of Yashiro staring at him as if he were a stranger. He was clutching an unopened bottle of water, tight enough to pop it. Ren could hear a muffled thud somewhere, as if someone had dropped a heavy object.

He dropped his eyes to Setsu's face. She was watching him patiently, confidently.

Unable to help himself, he touched her cheek.

"Come on. My dressing room. Tell me there."

A small, warm hand slid into his, and he lead her away, oblivious to all the eyes upon them.