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“That doesn’t sound terrible,” Cassie ventured cautiously.
“It’s Cain Ashcroft, Cass. Everything comes with strings attached. The man doesn’t make genuine offers. He’s doing this for some reason to use for his advantage later on.”
“I mean, I get it,” Cassie tossed out there. “The man’s reputation precedes him. But what are your options here?”
I sipped my gin and tonic and then shrugged. “Stay and see what his real agenda is or walk away and watch everything I’ve built get dismantled by someone who doesn’t understand what makes it work.”
“And by ‘someone,’ you mean him.”
“Precisely.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice even further. “Ashcroft Group doesn’t acquire companies because they admire them, Cass. They strip them for parts.”
Cassie twirled her straw before she looked me in the eye. “Maybe you’re the part he doesn’t want to strip.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she replied with a pointed look. “You said he singled you out. That’s not nothing.”
I know it’s not, but I’m not ready to admit that to her yet. “It could also be because my last name is on the front door of our office.”
“Could be.” Cassie gave me just a hint of a side eye before digging back into her salad. “But Cain Ashcroft is known for being strategic. If he wanted to get rid of you, he wouldn’t have bothered with the one-on-one conversation. He’d have just let HR handle it.”
I sighed and took another sip of my drink, letting the gin burn down my throat. “Maybe. But I don’t trust his motives.”
“Do you have to? Can’t you just take the opportunity and see where it leads?”
“It’s not that simple,” I replied. “The man practically radiates manipulation. Every word he says feels calculated.”
“And yet you’re still thinking about staying.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“I’ve put ten years into this company that my father created, Cass. I can’t just walk away.”
My phone buzzed in my purse. I ignored it at first, not wanting to be the person checking messages during drinks with a friend. But when it buzzed again thirty seconds later, I gave in.
“Sorry,” I muttered, fishing it out. “It might be important.”
When I unlocked the screen, my stomach dropped. An email from Cain Ashcroft himself, sent directly to my personal account rather than my work address. I hadn’t even given him that email address. I immediately looked around the pub as if that was going to do anything.
“What is it?” Cassie asked, noticing my expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s him,” I whispered, still glancing around the bar. The happy hour crowd was oblivious, laughing and drinking without a care. But suddenly I felt exposed. “Ashcroft just emailed me. My personal email.”
Cassie leaned forward. “What does it say?”
I opened the message, my fingers suddenly clumsy on the screen.
Ms. Prescott,
I’d like to continue our conversation from this morning. Tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.
Cain
“He wants to meet. Tomorrow.” I looked up at Cassie. “How the hell did he get my personal email?”
“He’s Cain Ashcroft,” Cassie said, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did. “Are you going to go?”
I scrolled back through my calendar mentally. “I’m busy all day tomorrow. There’s no way I can take a meeting with him.”
I hit “reply” and quickly typed out a response to Cain.
