I look down at my cash. I’m not surprised, given Cassandra’s choice of career. A journalist is nosy by trade. But I can’t let Fedot or Andre see me as weak or forgiving.
“You’ve given her too long of a leash,” I snarl. “Threaten her. Don’t cause her any serious injury. But put some fear into her heart.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Put a stop to it, Fedot. Goodbye.”
I end the call and turn to Andre. His best quality is that he does what he’s told.
I zip up the suitcase he gave me. “It’s been good, Andre. The room is paid for one night, so if you’d like to stay, the restaurant food is considered some of the best in town and the room service girls are willing to do more if you tell them you’re interested in the Gold Star menu.”
I pick up the suitcase and walk out of the room. I give a housekeeper a quick smile as I pass by. Once I get inside the elevator and shut the doors, I check the smaller pockets in the suitcase. No stray electronic devices. I’ll end up getting rid of the suitcase regardless, but it’s good to know if another organization is trying to screw me over or not.
Andre’s loyalty will be noted.
I leave the elevator and cross through the lobby, quickly exiting the hotel. Outside, my driver is waiting for me. He opens the door to the back of the car and I get inside. I don’t like to use drivers, but I knew this meeting would be quick and I didn’t want to waste time checking for car bombs when I could have someone standing guard over it while I was gone.
As I pull my phone out to make some calls, Fedot’s number flashes across the screen again.
“Yes?” I answer. I hear coughing. My suspicions prick up at once.
“Boss,” Fedot rasps. He starts coughing again. I wait. The driver pulls out onto the road. “Boss …”
“Where’s Cassandra?” I ask, immediately wary.
“She …” He tries to suppress his coughs, which only makes it worse. “She, uh, she had pepper spray. She’s gone.”
“Gone?” I ask. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t … I’m sorry, boss, I don’t know where she is.”
I should be furious. Enraged. She’s insistent on behaving like a woman with choices—choices that she absolutely doesn’t have. I’ve made examples out of people for doing far less than what she’s doing. I will not hesitate to make an example out of her as well.
But I have to give her some credit—she’s managed to be remarkably resourceful. I’m not happy about what she’s done, but it would take a blind man not to recognize and appreciate her guile.
“Fedot,” I say, channeling my frustration into his name. “If I didn’t think you could handle watching a single woman, I would have sent one of the housekeepers.”
“Boss, I’m sorry. She was prepared. She must have seen me coming and—”
“I only asked that you scare her and yet somehow you managed to let her get the jump on you,” I say. “You’ve gotten complacent.”
“I’ll find her, boss. I’ll track her down. I just thought you’d want to know she was gone.”
“Don’t bother trying to find her. She knows what will happen if she doesn’t come back. The same will happen to you if you don’t get your shit together.”
I hang up and tap the corner of the phone against my mouth. I open my phone’s contacts and find the one I want.
“Hello, Esme,” I say when the woman answers. “I have some questions that I’m hoping you can answer.”
I walk through the hallway of the second floor. It must be a new moon because the hallway seems unusually dark tonight. I’ve walked these halls enough that I could navigate them blind, but as I make my way to Cassandra’s room, I can almost taste the fear that would press in on her from every shadowy corner.
That’s exactly how I want her to feel. Threatened. Vulnerable. A mouse who has survived this far only at the cat’s pleasure. Who might not yet survive the night.
Her door is closed, but a line of light is glowing from underneath it. I adjust the dress and bag in my hands, twist the doorknob, and push it open.
Cassandra glances up and sees me standing in her doorway. She is sitting cross-legged, phone in her hands, on the bed we fucked on the night before. Just the memory is enough to ignite a buzz beneath my skin. She is beautiful in the way that seeing stars away from the city lights is beautiful. She’s a fresh breath of air.
She eyes me, says nothing, then looks back down at the phone in her hand. It is a petty little act of defiance, one I should not let trouble me, and yet I can’t deny that I feel a flush of irritation. I step in closer, but I resist the urge to do what I really want to do: Slam the door shut, pin her to the bed, and fuck her like a rabid animal.
She sets the phone on the bed, the screen facing downward. She doesn’t want me to see what she’s doing. I know she hadn’t been in contact with her father before our agreement, so I doubt she’s trying to contact him now. She doesn’t seem to have any close friends. She’s either trying to find her daughter on her own or she’s doing more research for her job.
It’s endearing that she thinks I’d consider either of those to be a threat.
I lift my arm, showing her the dress and the plastic bag. She raises her eyebrow.
“I didn’t imagine that you were a man who would wear gold shirts,” she says. “Good for you. Women like a man with some self-confidence.”
“It’s a dress. For you.” I throw the dress and the bag on the bed. “Put it on.
