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“It proves I pay attention.”

“It proves you’re a stalker with a budget.”

That should have gotten something out of him. Instead, he just looked slightly bored with the way this conversation was going.

“Call it what you like,” he said. “You will still sleep better here than you have in a week because you will feel safer as there is no need to have a chair wedged under a door.”

I went cold and I swear my body was about to give out. He knew about the chair. Of course he fucking knew about it. “You always knew where I was, didn’t you?”

Cain shrugged. “Of course I did. Even when I didn’t have direct eyes on you, I knew where you were.” He took a step toward me and then another and then another. He used his index finger to lift my head and it took everything in me not to shiver at his touch. “All thanks to this necklace I placed around your delicate neck.”

Rage fueled me in a way that I couldn’t hold back. My hand flew to my throat before my brain caught up with the motion. My fingers found the chain I’d forgotten I was even wearing, for the most part. The white gold heart tag had sat against my collarbone for days and I hadn’t thought anything of it, including trying to find, oh, I don’t know, a heart-shaped key to unlock it. He’d fastened it himself one night, and while it felt possessive, I’d kept it on to avoid a fight I wasn’t ready for. In fact, while I was on the run, it had brought some comfort and a sense of familiarity. The last thing I thought of was it being a tracker.

“Take this damn necklace off,” I said. “Or I will.”

“You can’t.”

I ignored his words and tried anyway. I found the mechanism and pulled and it didn’t give. I pulled harder, twisting, and the chain dug into the back of my neck without coming apart.

“There’s a tool,” Cain said. “A specific one that you need in order to open it. You won’t find it here, however.”

I dropped my hands immediately. Standing there clawing at my own throat in front of him was exactly the kind of desperation I’d promised myself I wouldn’t perform. “You’re enjoying this,” I said.

“I’m watching you understand something.” He hadn’t stepped back. The index finger that had lifted my chin was gone, but he remained close enough that I could smell the faint trace of an expensive cologne. “That’s different than enjoyment.”

“Understand what?”

“That you’ve already lost,” he said. “You ran for a week and slept in motels that smelled like other people’s cigarettes, and the entire time, you were exactly where I wanted you. I let you run, Sutton. There’s a difference between escape and a leash with a long enough line.”

I hated that he used the word leash. I knew that he’d chosen it on purpose and that only made my blood boil even more.

“You let me,” I repeated. “That’s the version you’re going with because you think that you’re in control of everything?”

“I am.”

“You weren’t in control of the paperweight now, were you?”

That line landed and I wanted to give myself a pat on the back for thinking of it on the fly. Something moved behind his eyes before he smoothed it over.

“No,” he admitted. “I wasn’t.”

The admission should have felt like a victory, but it didn’t. It felt like watching a man hand you a single chip from a big snack bowl you couldn’t see the bottom of. It’s because he could afford to lose that one. In fact, I was willing to bet he’d given it to me on purpose. I knew exactly what he was doing and I added it to the file I was keeping on him in my head.

“So you admit there are things you can’t predict,” I said.

“I admit one thing happened that I didn’t account for.” He stepped back finally, and the loss of him being so close to me registered in my body as relief and sadness. “I’ve accounted for it now.”

The way he said it made my stomach fall to my feet. That meant whatever opening I’d had with that paperweight, whatever crack in the system he kept so tightly controlled, he’d already gone back and sealed. I filed that away too. He learned and adapted, much like I assumed he did when he conducted business. Every mistake I made, every move I tried, would be studied and closed off before I could use it twice.

“There are rules for staying here.”

His words cut through the thoughts I was having and forced my attention back onto him. “Of course there are. Name them.”

“You don’t leave the penthouse without me or security I’ve approved,” he began. “You don’t attempt to access the elevator on your own. You won’t get far, but I’d rather you not waste the effort.”

“How considerate.”

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “You don’t touch the cameras, the locks, the security panels, or interfere with the staff. They have instructions. You won’t change them by being clever.”