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“Because normal people verify safety by speaking to the person in question.”
“You’re not in a normal situation.”
“No,” I said. “I’m in yours.”
“That,” Cain said, “is more accurate.”
The fact that he sounded pleased by it made me want to throw this table. Instead, I kept my hand around the water goblet and forced myself to loosen my grip before I snapped the stem. “I’m thrilled we’ve reached a conclusion,” I said. “Now tell me what you’re willing to give me.”
“Proof.”
The word stopped me.
Not because it was enough, in fact it was very far from it and he knew that. But proof was more than I had, which meant he’d chosen the one thing I couldn’t dismiss. “What kind of proof?” I asked.
“Current. Verifiable. Enough to satisfy you that Cassandra is safe.”
I did a double take before freezing. Most people called her Cassie because she insisted on it within three minutes of meeting them. Hearing Cain say Cassandra annoyed the living shit out of me.
“Do not call her that,” I said.
He paused. “Cassie, then.”
“Show me,” I said.
“After dinner.”
“No.” The word came out before I could decide whether it was the smartest thing to do. I set my glass down and leaned forward enough that the candlelight moved between us. “You don’t get to make me sit through this dinner while holding that over my head like some kind of treat for good behavior. Show me now, or I leave this table.”
His gaze held mine. “Leave to go where?”
The question was quiet enough that it should not have landed as hard as it did.
My chair scraped back an inch before I could stop myself from moving. I stopped it with my heel and made myself sit still.
That was what he wanted. Not for me to leave the room, per se, but to get me to react in a way that was out of character.
I forced my shoulders down. “That was beneath even you.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.” I looked at him over the candle flames, thinking that in a different life, some version of this would be romantic. “You don’t need to remind me I’m trapped every time I ask for something. We both know the terms of my current situation.”
“Then don’t make threats you can’t execute.”
“I can leave the table.”
“And go to your room angry, with no proof and no contact.” He picked up the wineglass again; however, this time he didn’t drink from it. “That would be an ethical decision, but not a useful one for you.”
I hated him with every fiber of my being, but he was, without a doubt, right.
“Fine,” I said.
Cain’s expression did not change, but he did follow suit and said, “Fine.”
“I will stay through dinner. I will be civil. I will make your little hostage supper as conversational as I can manage under the circumstances. But I want proof now.”
“You agreed to dinner.”
