Chapter 8
SUTTON
Normally, I would have enjoyed the atmosphere that Copper & Smiths gives off in droves.
The exposed brick walls the color of dried clay and copper trim that ran along the length of the bar that caught the light and threw it back, warming the space.
This place had a way of making you feel like you’d been coming for years even if it was your first visit, probably contributing to the fact that it had become one of my go-tos whenever I wasn’t working late.
Not to mention, the drinks were top notch, but I was busy trying to focus on what Cassie was saying about her latest dating app disaster story because my mind wanted to drift to other topics I refused to let it go to.
“So then he tells me he’s ‘ethically non-monogamous’ but forgot to mention it in his profile,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes as she stabbed a piece of chicken from her salad. “As if that’s just a casual third-date reveal.”
I forced a laugh even though that was actually pretty funny. “At least he told you before things got serious.”
“Sutton.” Cassie set down her fork and stared me down as if she was reading into my soul. “You’ve been somewhere else since you got here. What’s going on? Is it the acquisition? How bad is it?”
“Yes, but it’s more than that,” I said as I debated banging my head onto the wooden table in front of us. Then again, that might lead to our drinks spilling and that was the last thing I needed to happen. “On a scale of one to apocalyptic? It’s somewhere around ‘extinction event.’”
Cassie winced. “That bad?”
“He showed up personally for the announcement,” I said, lowering my voice even though the happy hour crowd provided decent cover of my words. “Made a point of singling me out for a private conversation beforehand.”
“And? What did he say?”
I replayed the conversation in my head for what felt like the millionth time. “He offered me… an opportunity. His words, not mine.”
“To keep your job?” Cassie asked.
“To build something ‘bigger than my father ever imagined,’” I quoted, making air quotes with my fingers. “With resources I’ve ‘never had access to before.’”
“That doesn’t sound terrible,” Cassie ventured cautiously.
“It’s Cain Ashcroft, Cass. Everything comes with strings attached. The man doesn’t make genuine offers. He’s doing this for some reason to use for his advantage later on.”
“I mean, I get it,” Cassie tossed out there. “The man’s reputation precedes him. But what are your options here?”
I sipped my gin and tonic and then shrugged. “Stay and see what his real agenda is or walk away and watch everything I’ve built get dismantled by someone who doesn’t understand what makes it work.”
“And by ‘someone,’ you mean him.”
“Precisely.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice even further. “Ashcroft Group doesn’t acquire companies because they admire them, Cass. They strip them for parts.”
Cassie twirled her straw before she looked me in the eye. “Maybe you’re the part he doesn’t want to strip.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she replied with a pointed look. “You said he singled you out. That’s not nothing.”
I know it’s not, but I’m not ready to admit that to her yet. “It could also be because my last name is on the front door of our office.”
“Could be.” Cassie gave me just a hint of a side eye before digging back into her salad. “But Cain Ashcroft is known for being strategic. If he wanted to get rid of you, he wouldn’t have bothered with the one-on-one conversation. He’d have just let HR handle it.”
I sighed and took another sip of my drink, letting the gin burn down my throat. “Maybe. But I don’t trust his motives.”
“Do you have to? Can’t you just take the opportunity and see where it leads?”
“It’s not that simple,” I replied. “The man practically radiates manipulation. Every word he says feels calculated.”
“And yet you’re still thinking about staying.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“I’ve put ten years into this company that my father created, Cass. I can’t just walk away.”
My phone buzzed in my purse. I ignored it at first, not wanting to be the person checking messages during drinks with a friend. But when it buzzed again thirty seconds later, I gave in.
“Sorry,” I muttered, fishing it out. “It might be important.”
When I unlocked the screen, my stomach dropped. An email from Cain Ashcroft himself, sent directly to my personal account rather than my work address. I hadn’t even given him that email address. I immediately looked around the pub as if that was going to do anything.
“What is it?” Cassie asked, noticing my expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s him,” I whispered, still glancing around the bar. The happy hour crowd was oblivious, laughing and drinking without a care. But suddenly I felt exposed. “Ashcroft just emailed me. My personal email.”
Cassie leaned forward. “What does it say?”
I opened the message, my fingers suddenly clumsy on the screen.
Ms. Prescott,
I’d like to continue our conversation from this morning. Tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.
Cain
“He wants to meet. Tomorrow.” I looked up at Cassie. “How the hell did he get my personal email?”
“He’s Cain Ashcroft,” Cassie said, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did. “Are you going to go?”
I scrolled back through my calendar mentally. “I’m busy all day tomorrow. There’s no way I can take a meeting with him.”
I hit “reply” and quickly typed out a response to Cain.
Mr. Ashcroft,
I have meetings scheduled throughout tomorrow that cannot be rescheduled. Perhaps another time would work better.
Sincerely,
Sutton Prescott
I hit send before I could overthink it, then placed my phone face down on the table, trying to ignore how my hand trembled slightly.
At least I hadn’t bothered to say what I really wanted and kept the email professional.
I was used to being the one who called the shots and I wasn’t surprised he had the audacity to send this message. However, he could fuck all the way off.
“You really think he’ll take no for an answer?” Cassie asked, eyebrow raised.
“He’ll have to,” I said, taking another sip of my drink. “I’m not rearranging my entire schedule because Cain Ashcroft snaps his fingers.”
Cassie gave me a look that said she didn’t believe that would be the end of it. I didn’t either, if I was being honest with myself, but there we were.
“So what are these unmovable meetings?” she asked.
“Two client calls, a strategy session with the marketing team, and lunch with the Hartwell Group.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “All legitimately important.”
“And all things your assistant could reschedule if you asked.”
I glared at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” she said, reaching for her wine. “Which is why I’m pointing out that avoidance isn’t a strategy.”
My phone vibrated again. I closed my eyes for a moment, centering myself before picking it up because deep down, I knew what I was going to see was some bullshit. When I opened my eyes and read the notification, I wasn’t surprised to find another email from Cain.
I told you to call me Cain. And I don’t do conflicts, Ms. Prescott. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I stared at the screen in shock as a cold feeling spread through my chest. Audacity didn’t begin to cover it. I stared at those eighteen words as if they might rearrange themselves into something else because there’s no way he just said the words I was looking at.
“What did he say?” Cassie leaned forward, trying to see my screen.
“He doesn’t ‘do conflicts,’” I quoted, my voice tight. “And he’ll see me tomorrow.”
“Wow.” Cassie’s eyes widened. “That’s… a lot.”
“That’s one word for it.” I set my phone down softly, fighting the urge to throw it across the bar. “The man thinks he owns my schedule now too.”
“Technically, he does own the company,” Cassie said, then immediately raised her hands defensively when I shot her a glare. “I’m just stating facts. Not saying it’s right.”
I took a long sip of my drink, wishing it was stronger. “He’s testing me. Seeing how I’ll respond to being pushed.”
“And how will you respond?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? I glanced around the bar again, the paranoia returning. Was I being watched? Had Cain somehow arranged for someone to monitor my reactions? It seemed absurd, but then again, so did him having my personal email address.
“Sutton?” Cassie prompted when I didn’t answer.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “Part of me wants to tell him exactly where he can shove his meeting.”
“And the other part?”
I sighed, running my finger along the condensation on my glass. “The other part knows I need to be strategic. He’s already ten steps ahead of me in a game I didn’t even know we were playing, but I should have known.”
Cassie studied me for a moment before she spoke again. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you’re more intrigued than you’re letting on. I think part of you wants to see what happens when you meet with him.”
I opened my mouth to protest but found myself unable to form the words.
Was she right? Of course she was. The man had been the star of my thoughts when I got myself off several times since our first encounter, including when I was taking a bath.
But I wasn’t ready to admit that yet. “That’s not—” I started, but my phone buzzed again, interrupting whatever weak defense I was about to toss out there.
This time it wasn’t an email but a text message from an unknown number:
My driver will pick you up at 9:30. Be ready.
I stared at the screen as the blood drained from my face.
“What now?” Cassie asked, leaning across the table.
I turned the phone so she could read it. “He has my personal cell number too.”
“Jesus,” she whispered. “How did he—”
“I don’t know,” I said, cutting her off. “And that’s what terrifies me. I’ve been at this company for a decade. I know everyone. I’m careful with my information. And he just… has it.”
I scanned the bar again, this time more thoroughly. The happy hour crowd had thinned slightly, but nothing seemed out of place. No one was paying particular attention to us. And yet I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched.