My gaze goes to the chain around my ankle. It’s odd to have something around it and at the same time, hearing it clink does something to me. I frown at the fact I’m getting turned on while here of all places in this situation. The last thing I should be is turned on.
But when he put it on, he told me to be a good girl. I don’t think he meant it sexual in the slightest. However, it triggered an old fantasy of mine, of him telling me I’m a good girl as I suck his cock and bring him to climax with my pussy.
I think I got the look of lust off my face fast enough, but I can’t be sure. I wonder if there’s a way I can talk him into staying here, even though I’m not going to tell on him. A week off would be nice. Shannon has a key for the bakery, I’m hoping my three employees keep the place up and running even if I’m not there. It would suck to lose that much profit.
My father’s pocket wouldn’t suffer because of it, but he might lose confidence in me that I can run the place and take it away. Hopefully, he won’t hold being kidnapped against me, if he even knows I’m missing in the first place. Poor Ensley is probably worried sick. I wish I could let her know I’m okay and I didn’t die at the hands of Sacha.
A light knock comes from the door before it opens.
Cason’s gaze meets mine before a small smile pulls at his face. With one mug in the crook of his arm and the other in his hand as he comes in.
“You’re awake, good, I thought you might be. I bring with me a token of peace, coffee. And for myself hot chocolate. I have a quiche baking in the oven.”
I raise a brow, as I take the mug from him and curl my fingers around it. The place isn’t too cold, but it does feel nice to have something warm to hold. Fall has set in the woods, that’s for sure. “I thought you couldn’t cook well? Quiche isn’t exactly beginners buttered toast.”
He shrugs as he sips from his mug. “I know how to make some things. Quiche is one of them, they were easy to make in the microwave in college. I’m not making it that way now though, don’t worry.”
I sip at the coffee, it’s just how I like it more cream than sugar. I can’t help but let a smile pull at my lips over the fact that he remembers how I like it. He hasn’t gotten me coffee since I was sixteen.
“Does it taste how you like it? I can get more sugar or creamer for you.”
I shake my head. “It’s good. Th-thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Were you able to sleep last night?”
My fingers flex against the mug. “No, not really, but I’ve come to a decision.”
Going to the wooden chair, he brings it over and takes a seat. “I’m here to listen and talk about whatever you want. I won’t hold back.”
I turn my gaze to look outside. “The thought of you going to prison for decades kills me. I don’t think I could go through with it, even though I know what you did was wrong. So, I’m not going to go to the cops, and for the same reason, I don’t think I’ll go to my father either. I don’t know what he would do to you if he found out you’re the one that spilled all his carefully plotted secrets.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know either for certain, but I’ve worked with him for nearly a decade now. I don’t think he would hesitate to put a hit on me from another company, even with our long-standing family history.”
A chill runs down my spine at his matter-of-fact tone. Like there was no other option. “So, he just kills anyone who gets in his way? He’s that cold and ruthless?”
Cason cocks his head from side to side. “I think it depends on who the enemy is. There are still some people out there he can’t touch. Who have traps in place for if they’re killed. Even with how good we are with making people disappear, there are some, who are just too hard to crack. They’ve been in the game a long time as well and make it so it’s hard to do anything. Better to just wait for death to take them naturally at some point instead.”
I frown and look at him. “How do you know which ones would be hard and which ones aren’t?”
He sips at his cocoa. “You hear things. Also, any intel on them will yield red flags that they aren’t a safe hit.”
I bite at my lip as I stare into his eyes. I can’t help but notice the bit of scruff on his face. I’ve always seen him clean-shaven, like most businessmen. He hasn’t gotten to shave since yesterday and already has the outline of a beard trying to come through. “What would I be? A red flag or a safe hit?”
He stiffens, but he said he would answer whatever I asked. After a second, he clears his throat. “You would fall somewhere in the middle with who your father is. You wouldn’t be a hit where we can take you out with a gun or some other way and dispose of your body. You would be an accidental death; something would happen to make your death look like an accident. Your body would have to be found, so we could never touch you or leave any kind of evidence.”
An odd thrill goes through me. This kind of talk shouldn’t interest me. It never has before, but right now I want to know more. I want to know every morbid detail of how my supposed death would go.
I arch a brow at him. “Poison? Too much potassium in the blood looks like a heart attack. Make it look like I had an undiscovered condition where my body doesn’t process potassium well and it’s built up in my blood until that happened. Slip it into food or drink, no needle mark to worry about. I don’t have any enemies that I know of, so there would be no one close to me that would have a reason to kill me.”
He shifts more, I’m making him uncomfortable but I don’t care. Call this payback for the shit that’s happened over the weekend.
Cason licks his lips. “How do you know about things like that?”
I snort. “I paid attention in school and have watched those mystery illness shows. A lot of them have people who get sick from potassium and get weird symptoms from it. All those shows warn about the issue of having too much or too little, both ends can cause issues. You have to stay somewhere in the middle and hope that you don’t have an illness that can make it go haywire. Plus, I’m human. I’ve thought about murder and how I would do it if it was something that needed to be done. Not that I would ever go through with it.”
Another sip of his cocoa and I do the same.
He shakes his head. “You’re not supposed to think of things like that. You’re supposed to be Josie, the woman who never fails to have a brilliant smile on her face every morning, even on Mondays.”
