Chapter 9
SUTTON
But I couldn’t do it. I had never called out sick when I wasn’t actually sick in my professional career.
My father had drilled this work ethic into me since childhood: you show up, especially when it’s difficult.
The thought of breaking that streak now made my stomach flip into a knot.
Not to mention, I was willing to bet Cain would see right through it, and worse, he’d know he’d gotten to me.
I set my phone down on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling. Cain Ashcroft, the man who had somehow acquired my father’s company, my personal email, my cell phone number, and now apparently expected to acquire my time as well.
I rolled out of bed, knowing that sleep wasn’t going to happen and I needed to get ready to head to the office, anyway.
I walked into my bathroom, flicked on the light and immediately winced at the sudden brightness shining in my eyes.
When my eyes finally adjusted, I found myself staring at the woman in the mirror and she looked every bit exhausted, worried, and pissed off.
“Do you know who the hell you are? You’re Sutton fucking Prescott,” I whispered to my reflection. “You don’t hide from anyone. Pull yourself together.”
My little pep talk in the mirror didn’t immediately remove the anxiety in my stomach, but it was enough to get me moving. I turned on the shower, cranking it hotter than usual, hoping the scalding water might wash away the anxiousness that had taken over my body.
As steam filled the bathroom, I stripped off my pajamas and stepped under the spray. The heat hit my shoulders, and I closed my eyes, letting it work into the tense muscles of my neck. I hadn’t realized how tight they’d become until the water began to loosen them.
After drying off, I walked to my closet and studied my options.
Today wasn’t just another day at the office.
I was preparing for battle, and I needed all of the armor I could get.
I selected one of my best suits: it was all white and made me feel invincible no matter what room I walked into.
I laid it out on my bed and continued getting ready.
I took my time with my hair and makeup to make sure my complexion looked flawless despite my lack of sleep.
As I dressed, I mentally prepared for whatever Cain had planned.
I knew this meeting wasn’t just about business; it was about power.
He was testing me, seeing if I would bend to his will without question.
I refused to bend to the will of anyone, let alone a man.
I picked my shoes next and decided on a black pair of Louboutins that added four inches to my height and made a decisive click against hardwood floors that announced my presence before I entered a room.
I slipped them on and immediately felt the shift in my posture, my spine straightening, my chin lifting slightly.
It was remarkable how much footwear could change your entire life.
By the time I left my condo I felt ready, or so I was telling myself.
When I reached the office, I had just under three hours before Cain’s driver would arrive.
I used that time to prepare for the other things I needed to get done today, but all the while my mind was on what the hell Cain actually wanted to talk to me about.
But I would never let that be known publicly.
The last thing I wanted was for him to even get a whiff that he had me this stressed out.
Also, if he thought he could derail my entire day, he had another think coming.
At 9:25 in the morning, my desk phone rang and I swore my heart jumped into my throat. It was Erica.
“Sutton, there’s a driver waiting for you in the lobby. I assume this is for the meeting you have at ten with Mr. Ashcroft?”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be out shortly.”
I hung up and took a deep breath. I gathered my phone, notebook, and purse as I started doing a mental inventory of what I might need.
The truth was, I couldn’t prepare for this meeting in any meaningful way because I had no idea what Cain wanted to discuss.
That uncertainty was certainly intentional on his part.
When I left my office, I stopped at Erica’s desk. “If I don’t check in within two hours, call my father,” I said quietly, hoping no one would hear for various reasons.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” I assured her. “Just a precaution. Where am I heading?”
“The driver didn’t say. Just that he was here for you on Mr. Ashcroft’s instructions.”
Of course. Cain was controlling every aspect of this interaction, including keeping me in the dark about our destination.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
With that, I headed to the lobby and when I reached it, I immediately spotted who would be taking me to Cain.
The driver was tall, dressed in all black including his suit, and wore the blank expression of someone paid to avoid small talk and turn away from anything that wasn’t his business.
He nodded once as I approached. He walked with me out of the building and we were silent until we reached the black SUV.
“Ms. Prescott,” he said, opening the rear door. “Mr. Ashcroft is expecting you.”
I got into the vehicle and immediately noted how dark the tinted windows were, limiting the amount of morning light. I’d been half-expecting Cain to be there but was relieved I was alone in the back seat. Somehow it was also unnerving.
“Where are we going?” I asked as the driver slid into the front seat.
“Mr. Ashcroft has arranged a meeting at The Jefferson,” he replied without turning around.
The Jefferson. One of D.C.’s most exclusive hotels. Of course Cain would choose somewhere like that—neutral territory that still screamed power and money. I settled back against the leather seat because I guess I was along for the ride.
The drive through D.C. morning traffic was relatively quick.
I used the time to gather myself, mentally rehearsing responses to whatever Cain might throw at me.
When we pulled up to the hotel’s entrance, the driver came around to open my door.
I stepped out, smoothing my white suit, and only stopped for a second when the driver spoke to me once more.
“Tell the front desk who you are and that you’re going to one of the presidential suites. Mr. Ashcroft is waiting.”
Why wasn’t I surprised that it was a presidential suite versus a conference room or something more professional?
The knot in my stomach tightened, but I nodded calmly and walked into the lobby.
Once I got directions on where I needed to go, I got on the elevator and watched as I ascended up to the presidential suite.
This was it. The moment I’d been dreading for the last twelve to eighteen hours.
When I reached the door, I paused for just a moment before knocking firmly.
I was overthinking just knocking on the door, but at least I thought it sounded professional and confident.
The door swung open almost immediately, and there stood Cain Ashcroft.
He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket, leaving him in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. My eyes involuntarily tracked the movement of his hand as he gestured for me to follow him inside.
“Sutton,” he said. “Right on time.”
I stepped past him into a suite that I swear was larger than my entire condo.
My eyes darted around, taking everything in because if I didn’t find something to preoccupy myself, I was going to stare at the man in front of me, giving away either that I was attracted to him or that he, on some level, intimidated me.
Neither would help me in the situation I was in right now, so studying the suite was where I landed.
As I was checking out the room, Cain spoke again, startling me out of my daydream.
“Coffee?” he asked, moving toward a silver service set up on a side table. “Black, no sugar or cream, if I recall correctly.”
I froze. I hadn’t told him how I took my coffee.
How did he know that? The fact that he knew such a small detail about me was weird as fuck, but I did my best not to let it show.
It was something I didn’t feel was safe to bring up right now, hell, maybe ever, but now my only objective was to get out of this hotel room alive.
“Yes,” I replied, keeping my voice even to not give anything I was thinking away. “Thank you.”
Cain handed me a cup and our fingers brushed each other’s briefly.
I refused to acknowledge the contact, but it lingered on my skin longer than I would have liked.
I felt myself starting to grow warm under my blouse and sweating was the last thing I needed, specifically as a result of just touching him.
“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing toward a seating area near the windows.
I chose an armchair rather than the couch because I needed to maintain as much distance as possible.
I kept my purse on my lap too because it’d just become another piece of armor that I had at my disposal.
Cain took the seat across from me and it was easy to see that he was very much at home with this setup while I was planning my escape.
“I appreciate you making time for this meeting,” he said, sipping his own coffee.
“Did I have a choice?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Cain smiled, and it transformed his face in a way that I wasn’t expecting. I hated that it made him more attractive. “There are always choices, Sutton. You made the right one.”
I set my coffee down. “What exactly is this meeting about, Mr. Ashcroft?”
“Cain,” he corrected again. “And it’s about your future with Prescott Vantage under Ashcroft Group’s ownership.”
“My future,” I repeated. “Which you’ve already decided?”
“Actually, no.” He leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine. “That’s why you’re here. To discuss possibilities.”
I crossed my legs, buying myself a moment to think. “What possibilities did you have in mind?”