Page 18 of Marked By Obsession

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?”