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“Then the second-cleanest solution is to manufacture a more credible explanation for her absence and buy us forty-eight hours.”

“Manufacture,” I repeated. “You’re suggesting we lie to a client whose entire objection is that he does not trust the people currently speaking to him.”

“I’m suggesting we try to prevent reputational risk.”

“You’re suggesting we sound desperate.”

“We are approaching desperation.”

I smiled without a trace of humor. “Careful, Ms. Caldwell.”

Sylvia went quiet for a beat. “Understood,” she said. “But my assessment stands. Mr. Lyle knows Ms. Prescott’s habits. He knows how she handles urgent communications. He knows enough to recognize that this absence is inconsistent with her professional pattern and he called us out on it.”

I tossed Sylvia’s review around in my head for several seconds before I came to my conclusion. “Thank you for getting on this call with me. I’ll take it from here.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll remain available.”

The call ended, and my office returned to silence just like I preferred. Deep down, I know Sylvia was right and in order to save this client for Prescott Vantage, I had to bring in the woman of the hour herself. But I also knew that meant that it leveled the playing field in a way between us that I hadn’t expected. I was positive that Sutton would do anything to save her company, but on this particular point I needed her more than she needed me and I needed to present this to her in a way that didn’t give her an advantage.

16

SUTTON

By mid-morning I had read the same poem four times and retained exactly none of it. The book was poetry, which I hadn’t intended. I’d reached for history again and pulled something thinner off the shelf by accident and, by the time I noticed, I’d already decided that returning it would require more effort than simply trying to read it.

So I read poetry I didn’t want to read, in a room that wasn’t mine, in clothes I hadn’t bought, and waited for the next thing Cain Ashcroft would decide for me.

That waiting came to an end around eleven in the morning.

It wasn’t Marta this time. Instead, I saw Cain himself appear in the doorway which told me this must have been a big deal. What I noticed was that Cain usually disappeared during the daylight hours. I’d assumed he was continuing his due diligence to take over the world by buying one company at a time. It just so happened that on one of those evenings, he asked me to have dinner with him. I hated that the tension was still between us after the dinner we’d had when he showed me proof that Cassie was alive, but what could I do about that?

“There’s a situation,” he said, “with one of Prescott Vantage’s clients.”

I set the book down on the table next to me clumsily and turned to face him. “A situation?” I repeated.

“Wiles and Co.”

It took everything within me to keep my face neutral, but an image of Harold Lyle appeared in my mind. I knew Harold and that account like the back of my hand after working with them for years. I was curious what intel Cain had that he felt the need to deliver it personally. “What about them?”

“They’ve declined to proceed while things are in flux with the transition,” Cain said. He didn’t move from the doorway. “Nothing Ashcroft Group does seems to appease them. Harold Lyle has stated the account will not move forward until you personally confirm you’re still managing them.”

“So they don’t want Ashcroft Group’s hands on their stuff?” I was acting like I didn’t understand what he was asking because I wanted him to admit it to me point-blank instead of dressing it up in a way that allowed him to save face.

If I could have, I would have chuckled when I noticed that Cain’s jaw tightened. He finally stepped into the room, and I watched the cogs in his brain turn as I suspected he was debating how much he was willing to tell me about what was going on.

“It’s a Prescott Vantage problem and has nothing to do with the Ashcroft Group outside of that,” he said. “If Wiles and Co. walk during the transition, the market reads it as instability. Other clients follow. The firm you helped build loses its value as a result,” he said in closing.

This time I did chuckle, but there wasn’t a trace of humor anywhere to be found. “How generous of you to remember whose name is on the door.”

“I’m telling you what’s at stake.”

“You’re telling me my staff and my clients and my reputation are about to suffer because Ashcroft Group’s people couldn’t hold a relationship together for several weeks including while you’ve kept me hostage.” I stood, slowly, smoothing the khakis I decided to wear today. “And now you need me to fix it.”

“I need your cooperation.”

There it was. The careful little comment that slid across the table like a chip he could afford to lose. He’d come in here framing this as charity, as if helping him would be helping myself, as if I should be grateful for the chance to clean up a mess he’d made by locking me away from the very people who depended on me.

“Cooperation,” I said. “That’s the word you want to use.”