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CAIN

There’s nothing better than watching someone who thinks they are free, but in actuality is caught up in a web of their own making. I knew this because I had been that person once. Not for long, maybe a handful of months in my twenties, when I still believed that competence alone made me invincible. Before I understood that the truly dangerous forces in any room are never the ones making noise. They are the ones taking notes and keeping score.

It was what I was doing as soon as I walked into this room and my eyes finally landed on her in person. The photos and information that I’d been sent by Declan and his team didn’t do her justice, but the years of effort that we’d all put into this operation were worth it based on this moment coming to fruition. It was as if she was poetry in motion and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Nothing I’d done was by accident and it was finally time for us to be introduced to each other in real life.

I watched Sutton Prescott from across the ballroom, tracking her every breath and move. She had a way of tilting her head when she listened to someone speak that told me she was actually taking in what was being said versus what the majority of these assholes would do in a similar position. Most people nodded along, half-assed paying attention. They pretended in the same way they listened to a quarterly earnings call they could give two shits about. It was all performative attention unless you were telling them something that they could hold over you to get what they wanted.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Sutton was building something in her head while you talked. I was willing to bet she was triangulating your position relative to hers and everyone else in the room, filing it all away until it would become relevant to something she needed to accomplish.

I admired it because it was a well-constructed trap that had served her well throughout her career. But I had built better ones. Didn’t mean that I couldn’t appreciate the effort.

My gaze followed Sutton as she made her way toward Martin Rivers. Interesting choice. Rivers had been on my board for three years now, always playing the role of moral compass, as if corporations ever had such a thing. The slight tremor in his hand was more pronounced tonight as he accepted a flute of champagne from a passing server. Stress, perhaps. I also wouldn’t be surprised if it was guilt.

D.C. was the only city where strangers led with what you did rather than who you were. It was as if a title was introduction enough. I adjusted my Fabergé cufflinks and returned my gaze to the room. The ones who mattered already knew my name.

“Mr. Ashcroft,” came a voice at my elbow. Dana Liu, a relentless journalist who’d been sniffing around my subsidiaries for months, if not years, and now she was standing within feet of me. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Ms. Liu,” I acknowledged without turning my head, still tracking Sutton’s movements. “Still chasing phantoms that don’t exist?”

“Those phantoms have a way of materializing into fraud investigations,” she replied, following my line of sight. “I see you’ve noticed Sutton Prescott. Interesting. Are you two acquainted?”

“Our paths have crossed,” I tossed back neutrally, offering nothing more. Because frankly, it was none of her business. She didn’t need to know that every time my eyes landed on Sutton, the only word running through my mind was mine.

I glanced over at Dana and noticed that hungry look journalists get when they think they’re onto something significant. I’d seen it countless times before and had never thought it was anything more than amateur theatrics that showcased their intentions from miles away.

“I’ve been looking into Ashcroft Group’s recent acquisition patterns,” she continued, her voice dropping slightly. “There are some fascinating irregularities in the timing of their purchases.”

Ashcroft Group existed in the space between industries like defense, finance, consulting, technology, but never fully belonging to any of them. On paper it was a holding company. In practice it was whatever I needed it to be. Fifteen subsidiaries, six continents, and a board that had learned not to ask questions I hadn’t already answered.

I finally turned to face her, allowing a thin smile that dared her to cross me. “The market is full of patterns, Ms. Liu. Finding meaning in them is often more about the observer than the observed.”

She didn’t flinch so I’d give her half a point for that. “I have financial records, sourced communications, and three former Ashcroft Group employees willing to go on record.” She held my gaze with the particular confidence of someone who had rehearsed this moment. “Insider trading and at least two instances of direct legislative influence. I’m giving you the chance to comment before it publishes.”

I laughed, because predictable people always thought they were the first to find something. “You know what they say about coincidences in our line of work.”

“That they don’t exist?” Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

“That they make excellent headlines for those who can’t prove causation.” I took a slow sip of my whisky, savoring the brief flash of irritation across her face more than the drink itself. “Print whatever you’d like. My lawyers have better things to do, but they’ll make time.”

I watched her expression shift, but I didn’t give away the fact that I saw the subtle transition from confidence to uncertainty. I’d seen it a thousand times before and I can never get enough of the moment when someone realizes they are standing on quicksand rather than solid ground.

“Your lawyers.” She adjusted her glasses, a nervous tell, I’m sure. “They’re quite busy these days, aren’t they? Especially with the scrutiny around your European operations.”

A good attempt at recovery, but I was still bored.

“Any type of scrutiny is the cost of doing business across borders,” I said in return. “But I suspect you know that already.”

Dana paused, I assume to weigh her options. The hesitation told me everything I needed to know about the actual weight behind the words she was throwing around.

“I’d hoped for a more substantive conversation,” she finally said.

“Most people do.” I glanced at my watch because at this point, she was wasting my time. “If you’ll excuse me.”

I moved away before she could respond, the slight burn of satisfaction warming my chest. I circled the room before making my way toward Sutton and Martin. The crowd parted for me without conscious thought and I couldn’t help but smirk. Power wasn’t just about what you could do at the snap of your fingers; it was about the space you occupied and how others yielded to it.

As I approached, Martin spotted me first. The tremor in his hand intensified slightly as he set down his champagne flute. Sutton’s back was to me, her posture straight and attentive as she listened to whatever he was saying. I caught the tail end of his sentence.