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“Was anyone hurt?” she asks, the question coming before concern for the wine or property.

“No. The generator protected the essential systems, and the harvest continued.” I return to the image and point at the initials below VHL. “I don’t recognize D. Morozov. The name doesn’t appear among the vendor accounts I reviewed.” I send the photographs to my secure address, then return the phone to Cassie. “My financial team can compare these notes with our vendor files, contracts, transfers, and login records.”

“Could it be an employee?” Birdie asks.

“Possibly, or an owner, contact, borrower, or person Connor intended to question. My financial team can compare every note with our vendor files, contracts, transfers, and login records.”

She closes her fingers around the device. “When?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” I answer, and resolve hardens her face.

“I’ll be here,” she says, closing her purse.

“That’s not necessary,” I tell her.

“Neither was searching Connor’s apartment, but necessity doesn’t seem to influence your decisions.” Cassie threads her fingers together in her lap. “Those notes belong to my brother. If your team reviews them, I’ll be in the room.”

I study her across the small distance between us. She’s frightened, angry, and exhausted, yet none of it weakens her resolve. Telling her no won’t keep her away. It will only inspire another way to enter the building, and the bathroom explanation has already exhausted her talent for deception tonight.

Keeping her near serves my interests because she can interpret Connor’s notes and help me judge whether a detail fits his behavior. It’ll also let me determine what she’s withholding, which is the strategic reason to agree, although it’s not the only one. I want to see her again without forty guests and shredded documents surrounding us, and I want to learn whether her mouth feels as soft as it looked when I stood close enough to kiss her.

What I want has no place in an investigation involving her brother, but knowing that does nothing to change it.

“One tomorrow afternoon,” I tell her. “You and Birdie will meet Reid and me here. We’ll review the photographs alongside our records.”

Cassie pulls her purse closer. “I want to see the records you compare them with.”

“You’ll see what I can share.” I rise from the table and fasten my jacket. “In return, you won’t investigate VHL, D. Morozov, Rick, or anyone connected to the loans without telling me first.”

She stands as well. “You don’t get to give me rules.”

“I can when ignoring them places you in danger,” I say, meeting her anger without retreat.

“You don’t know that I’m in danger,” she argues, spreading her hands on the table.

“Someone destroyed documents while you were inside this building. Your brother vanished after investigating financial fraud. Assuming you’re safe would be foolish.” I walk to the door but don’t open it. “You may dislike my rules but follow them anyway.”

“That’s not how rules work,” she says, her lips pressing together.

“It’s how survival works,” I reply, and Birdie rises beside her.

“I’ll make sure she calls before she does anything reckless,” Birdie promises, moving beside Cassie. “Supporting her occasionally requires preventing disaster.” Reid appears in the doorway as Cassie gives her cousin an offended look, saving Birdie from the argument she deserves.

Reid looks over my shoulder, silently asking whether the conversation produced anything useful. I nod slightly before opening the door wider.

“Reid will take you back to the pavilion, and Drew will have a man follow you home,” I tell Cassie.

“No.” Her refusal comes before I finish. “I’m not having one of your men outside my apartment.”

“You had no objection to security while sneaking through my building,” I point out as she folds her arms.

“I objected to all of it. I was just occupied,” she replies, tipping her chin up.

“Then consider this one less matter requiring your involvement.” I leave her a clear path into the hall. “One tomorrow, Cassandra.”

She stops beside me, close enough for her vanilla scent to reach me again. “Cassie.”

“Cassie,” I correct, letting her name linger on my lips.