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Cain tucked himself away and straightened his clothing with disturbing efficiency. He handed me his handkerchief to clean myself up. He bent down to retrieve his knife and walked back over to his victim, and wiped the blade on Bradley’s jacket before slipping it somewhere inside his suit.

“We need to go back inside separately,” he said, his voice returned to that calm, businesslike tone. “You’ll go first. Bathroom, fix your makeup and hair, then mingle. Act normal.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Act normal? After this?” I gestured weakly toward Bradley, who had gone completely still. “Is he⁠—”

“Yes,” Cain said without even checking. “And this never happened. You were never here.”

“I can’t just⁠—”

“You can and you will.” His voice was firm but not unkind. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear; the gentleness of the gesture threw me for another loop. “Now go.”

For the first time in my adult life, I listened to a man because I quite literally had no idea what else to do.

15

SUTTON

Where the hell was I?

I took my time wiping the sleep from my eyes. When I could somewhat see due to the limited light in the room, I could tell that the ceiling was white as I tried to remember where I was. The sheets beneath me were too soft, the mattress too firm, and the silence surrounding me felt wrong even though I knew I lived alone.

Then it hit me.

The presidential suite at The Pierre. I was in Cain’s suite. The guest bedroom where I’d somehow ended up after⁠—

My stomach lurched and I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from throwing up. The memories came flooding back and I wished my brain could reject them all. The alley where Bradley was slumped against the brick wall, blood spreading across his white shirt. Then Cain’s mouth on mine with his hands on my body. My legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked me against the wall while Bradley’s soul left his body.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but that only made the images sharper. I could still feel the rough texture of the bricks against my bare back. Could still taste the champagne from Cain’s lips. I swore I could still hear my own moans echoing in that alleyway.

What had I done?

I sat up slowly, my body protesting the movement. Every muscle ached as if I’d run a marathon instead of attending a charity gala. My dress from last night lay draped over a chair in the corner, the midnight-blue fabric looking almost black in the dim light. I was wearing only my bra and the thong I’d had on beneath the gown. At some point, I must have removed the dress myself, although I had no memory of doing so.

I didn’t remember how I got back to the hotel, much less how I ended up in this bed. The last clear memory I had was my following Cain’s instructions. I walked back into the building, barely since my legs were shaking so hard, and locked myself in a bathroom stall where I’d nearly hyperventilated. And I wished I could use bleach to remove it from my mind.

I glanced to my right and found my phone charging on the nightstand. I picked it up and debated whether it made sense to call Cassie. She would know what to do… no, she wouldn’t, ’cause who the hell would? Cain probably owned all of New York City at this point so telling her would just bring danger to her doorstep.

I put my phone back down on its resting place just before I slid out of bed. My legs were still sore from being wrapped around a certain someone’s waist and I was disgusted with myself for not being turned off about that part of the night. The way he stared me down as he fucked me senseless needed to be studied as well as my allowing it to happen, but there would be time to reflect on what I’d done once I got back to D.C.

I walked to the bedroom door that I’d had enough sense to lock, but I knew the chances of that keeping Cain out were essentially zero. I pressed my ear to the door in hopes of being able to detect whether or not he was awake. When I heard nothing, I released a shaky breath and began plotting my escape because there was no way I was staying here a moment longer than I needed to.

The first order of business was to wash away any remaining evidence of what had happened last night. I headed straight to the bathroom, cranking the shower as hot as it would go. Part of me wondered if it was a bad idea to be taking a shower, running the risk that I might wake up Cain when I intended to get out of here as quickly as possible, but this shower needed to happen. Under the spray, I scrubbed my skin until it turned pink in an attempt to wash away not just the physical evidence but the memories themselves.

Surprising no one, it didn’t work.

After drying off, I wrapped one of the plush hotel robes hanging on the back of the door around me. It was ridiculous how comforting the soft fabric felt against my raw skin. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at me. At least the mascara that had run down my face at some point was gone, but I swore the look in my eyes made me look… almost haunted. And hell, maybe I was. With that I quickly looked away and continued on my mission.

I crept back into the bedroom and paused to listen for any sound from the rest of the suite. There was still silence and I couldn’t be more thankful. Maybe Cain wasn’t even here. The thought gave me a surge of hope. I could dress, grab my things, and be out of here in minutes.

I checked my phone again: 6:17 a.m. Early enough that I might slip away unnoticed especially if he wasn’t around. I quickly got dressed in leggings and a sweater and packed everything I’d taken out of my overnight bag. The only thing that mattered was getting out of here as fast as I could and avoiding a run-in with Cain.

I grabbed my purse and small suitcase just before I did a final sweep of the room to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind. Finding nothing, I put my sneakers on and took a deep breath before unlocking the bedroom door.

The door opened without a sound, and I stepped into the hallway. The suite was eerily quiet, but I took it as a good sign. I made my way toward the living area and I swear my heart was hammering so hard that it was trying to escape my body. All I needed to do was reach the front door without alerting Cain and I would be home free. At least until he showed up to Prescott Vantage’s headquarters, but by that point, there would be some space and time between us.

I almost screamed when I entered the living area.

Cain was sitting in an armchair facing the door, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks. His legs were crossed casually as if he’d been waiting for me. For how long, I couldn’t tell.