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He was quiet for a long moment. I knew he was running the risk assessment numbers, probably weighing what he’d lose by giving me an inch against what he’d lose if Wiles and Co. walked and others followed, turning into not only a problem for Prescott Vantage, but also one for Ashcroft Group.

“The call first,” he said finally. “You handle Lyle. You prove it works. After that, we will discuss the rest at a later date.”

“We will discuss it today.”

“We will discuss it after I’ve watched you do what you claim you can do.”

It wasn’t everything, not by a long shot. But it was movement, and that was what I’d been looking for. “Fine,” I said. “The call first.”

He nodded once. “The team assembles at two and we can have the call at three. You’ll have your briefing materials before then.”

“I’ll need more than a briefing. I’ll need to know what your people already said to him. Verbatim. Every call, every email, every tracked change his counsel sent back. Every breath someone on your team took in his direction.” I held up a hand before he could object. “I’m not asking to be generous, Cain. If I walk in there and repeat a phrase someone already used, he’ll know your team prepped me. I need to know exactly how you failed, so I don’t fail the same way.”

Something crossed his face when I said the word “failed,” but he didn’t correct me. “You’ll have the transcripts,” he said.

“Then we’re in agreement. I need that information ASAP to be prepared for a two o’clock meeting,” I said and allowed myself to look straight into his blue eyes once more. He didn’t leave immediately, which I thought was interesting. He did walk to the doorway a beat later than necessary. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking in that moment, but of course he didn’t let me in. Then he was gone, and I was alone with the poetry book I still wasn’t going to read and the spirit of a win I didn’t quite trust.

17

SUTTON

The documents, including emails and transcripts, arrived within twenty minutes on a tablet Marta delivered without comment. Based on what I could see, the tablet had been wiped of just about everything except what Cain wanted me to see. I sat at the desk in my room and I read through all of it several times until I was sure I knew everything inside and out.

But I was nervous. It had been a while since I was operating in my professional mode, but I was more than ready to step back into it. I’d already showered for the day, but I changed my clothes because there was no way in hell I was taking a client call in khakis while Cain Ashcroft and his acquisition team watched me like a hostage with a headset over a video call.

Clothing mattered in most aspects of life. I hated that it did, but pretending otherwise would be me failing the first test in getting this situation with Wiles and Co. back on solid ground.

I chose a navy-blue skirt suit, a cream blouse, and navy-blue pumps. The outfit was non-assuming and very much in line with what I usually wore when I went to the office in D.C., just a more expensive version of it because everything in that closet was an exorbitant amount of money. I walked into the bathroom after Cain left me alone and I was annoyed that I was still impressed that he’d made sure it was stocked with all of my favorite hygienic and makeup products. When I’d mentioned to Cassie that I wanted to be with a man who paid attention to the little details, this isn’t what I had in mind. However having everything I needed made throwing together my standard hair and makeup look took minimum effort. While it was still creepy when I thought about all that he’d done, right now I was grateful for it.

There was something morally offensive about standing in front of a mirror, using foundation I liked and mascara I trusted because the man who had abducted me had apparently decided kidnapping should come with an accurate Sephora profile among other things. I hated him for knowing all of this about me and I hated myself more for low-key appreciating his fucked-up efficiency.

At 1.15, I heard a knock at my door. I opened it before whoever stood on the other side could knock again and found Cain standing there in a navy suit and a steel-blue tie that probably cost more than my yearly salary because it was probably diamond encrusted on the back or something foolish. His eyes moved over me once slowly and I knew his thoughts were anything but professional. Under regular circumstances, I probably would have thought we looked cute as we were wearing the same colors and we would look like a power couple walking into his office building. However, this was anything but regular circumstances.

“You’re ready,” he said.

“I usually am.”

His gaze lingered for a fraction longer than necessary on my face before he spoke again. “I’ll be escorting you to Ashcroft Group’s headquarters.”

For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misheard him. “Headquarters,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“As in the Ashcroft Group building.”

“Yes.”

“The building where I last saw you bleed onto your office floor.”

His mouth did not move, but something in his eyes acknowledged the hit. “That building.”

I looked past him into the hallway, as if the penthouse itself might confirm that this was some new form of psychological experiment. “I’m sorry,” I said, turning back to him. “Did the penthouse run out of conference rooms?”

“It isn’t about conference rooms.”

“Of course not. Nothing is ever about the obvious thing with you.” I stepped fully into the hallway and pulled my door closed behind me. “Why are we going there?”

“Because Wiles and Co. is looking for things that look like we are professionals and can handle their portfolio. The aesthetic can be better performed from the place they expect you to be.”