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Cain’s eyes darkened under the warm lighting. He didn’t lean forward or smirk like some overacted villain in a movie. His expression barely changed at all, which somehow made it worse. His hand stayed wrapped around the stem of his wineglass, but his thumb moved once along the crystal.

I hated that I noticed it.

“I suspect disappointing me is one of your current hobbies,” he said.

“I’m trying to keep busy.”

“Is that what the library is?”

“One of several things that help me keep busy, yes.”

“What are the others?”

“Counting cameras. Tracking Marta’s and the security guards’ schedules. Etcetera, etcetera.” I picked up my fork again because I needed something in my hand. “You know. Normal guest activities.”

“You’re not a guest.”

“No,” I said. “Guests can leave.”

My words cut through the tension like a knife just like I knew they would. I knew I should mind what I was saying; however, Cain triggered me so badly that I couldn’t help but take every verbal shot that I could land.

The man in question set his glass down softly, not looking remotely fazed by the words that came out of my mouth. “And yet you came to dinner.”

“Again, your requests here aren’t optional. Or at least that’s the impression I’ve been given.”

“You could have refused to wear a dress.”

“And then we would have had an argument about a dress, which sounds exhausting for all of us involved.”

“You chose compliance because it served a purpose.” His gaze moved over my face before he spoke again. “You want something.”

There it was. Of course, he had to make sure he got the words out before I could make the ask. I leaned back in my chair and looked at him across the candles, hating the way he’d cornered the conversation before I was ready.

“You say that like it’s the biggest discovery ever,” I said. “Everyone wants something.”

“Yes.” His tone remained smooth. “But you spent the first course deciding whether to ask.”

“Ah, and that’s where you’re wrong. It was never a matter of whether; it was a matter of when.”

“And?” Cain asked.

I reached for my water, mostly because my mouth had gone dry and I refused to let my voice give it away. After I was done taking a long sip, I said, “I want to talk to Cassie.”

“Talk,” he repeated.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s generally what people do when they’ve been taken against their will and cut off from everyone they care about. They ask to speak to someone.”

“You’re asking now.”

“I am.”

His thumb moved once along the stem of his glass again. There was wine in it, dark red and untouched since his last sip. “What are you willing to give me for that privilege?” he asked.

Privilege.

The word hit exactly where he wanted it to. I felt everything in my body snap to attention. “For the privilege,” I repeated slowly, “of speaking to my best friend, you’re asking me what I would do?”

“Yes.”