Page 28

“And I am sitting here in a dress I did not buy, in a penthouse I cannot leave, eating salad by candlelight with the man who abducted me. I would argue I’ve demonstrated considerable good faith already.”

“You think giving you proof now reduces my control over the evening,” he said.

“I think dangling proof until dessert is cruel even by your standards.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It is the only one you’re getting.”

For several seconds, neither of us moved. The candles burned between us and I could hear Marta moving in the kitchen, but she didn’t reappear. Cain reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed his phone. He tapped the screen several times and then stood just before he walked around the table toward me. He stopped beside my chair and angled the phone toward me but didn’t immediately hand it over.

“No touching anything except the screen,” he said. “No swiping beyond what I show you.”

I looked up at him. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Yes.”

“Ever concerned by it?”

“No.”

I held out my hand. “Show me the proof.”

He gave me the phone. The device was heavier than mine had been, matte black, no case, no notifications on the lock screen, nothing personal visible except for the folder already open. There were three images. The first photo showed Cassie walking into the lobby of the building where she worked. The timestamp on top of the photo said today, 8.42 a.m. The angle was from across the street or from a camera mounted high enough that it caught the entire entryway. I swiped because I forgot his instructions and because I needed the next image more than I cared about his rules.

His hand closed around my wrist. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but his grip was enough to remind me of the words he said.

I looked up at him slowly. “If you stop me right now, I will stab you with the salad fork.”

“You swiped without permission.”

“I am looking at evidence that my best friend is alive. Pick a better moment to be controlling.”

His grip stayed for one beat too long, then he released me. “Continue,” he said.

My pulse hammered in my throat as I looked back down.

The second photo showed Cassie at a coffee shop near her office where she sometimes bought overpriced chai lattes because she liked the barista who drew little stars on the cups. She was standing at the counter, phone in one hand, wallet in the other, wearing the same outfit from the first photo.

The timestamp said today, 12.17 p.m.

My vision blurred and it only frustrated me. I blinked once and forced myself not to shed the tears I was now holding. Crying in front of Cain was not something I planned to add to the already long list of humiliations this week had provided. The third image was a screenshot from what looked like a security report. It listed her name, her office arrival, departure for lunch, return, and then one line that made my eyes widen.

The subject did not return to Prescott residence. No contact observed with known compromised location.

My condo.

I was relieved my warning had worked. Although I wanted more information, I knew I’d already pushed this arrangement as far as I could. But I knew that she was alive, at least according to these images and that was enough for right now.

“Thank you,” I said just above a whisper and handed the phone back to him.

Cain gave me a swift nod before taking his phone back and walking back to his seat so that we could continue with this charade called a pleasant dinner.

15

CAIN

My office was dark except for the light coming from my computer screen as I reviewed some emails that had come in after I’d stopped working several hours ago. It was taking me longer than normal to get through them and I knew it was because I was distracted.