Page 25 of Prey

"You’re very careful," he says. "I’ve noticed. Always in the right place at the right time. Always with the right story. Stalker, was it?" He lets the word hang between us. "How fortunate for you that Leo believed it."

My fingers still. Only for an instant. He sees it.

"For someone who’s so worried about evidence, you trust people very easily when they give you access." He continues, voice soft. "Maybe you should worry about what some of us do with that access."

My lips press together.

"You think you’re untouchable because you’re on the board. Because you’ve known Cain longer. Because you saw him first, or whatever story you’ve told your delusional self."

His eyes are bright now. Focused. He’s shaking a little.

"But you’re just another person who wants something from him," he says. "Another person collecting him. Another person watching. You’re not special."

The words land harder than I expect. Interesting.

"Be very careful," I repeat, quieter. "You’re talking to someone who can end your life here with one email."

He laughs then smirks "I don’t have time for your temper tantrums Ms Sophie, besides I have to get back to Cain."

Chapter 14: Dual

Grey

I leave work at 6 PM. Nothing about me says I'm going to my boss's apartment to wait for him on his bed. Nothing about me says I've been told not to touch myself until he gets home. Nothing about me says I'm already hard just thinking about it. But I am.

The doorman nods at me. "Evening, sir."

I nod back. The hallway on thirty-two is quiet again. My heart is pounding, my hands are steady and my mind is clear. This is what I wanted. This is why I’ve been patient. Tonight, I get to be in his life and with permission.

"You're going to let yourself into my apartment. You're going to wait for me in my bed."

I walk through the living room, past the bookshelf full of things I touched before. I don't touch them. Not tonight. Tonight, I do exactly what he said.

The bedroom is the same as I remember. The sheets tangled from the night before. He was here this morning. He slept here. Did he dream about me? I sit on the edge of the bed, then I lie down, staring at the ceiling. This is where he told me to wait. So, this is where I'll stay until he comes home.

The sun sets outside the windows. The city night lights start to blink. The room goes from gold to blue to dark. And still I wait. My hands stay at my sides. My body stays still. But inside, I'm screaming.

Where are you? Why aren't you here? Is this a test? Are you watching me right now?

I hear the front door open.

Cain

I take my time coming home.

Not because I don't want to see him, I do. But because I've been thinking about it all day. Because the image of him on his knees in that bathroom has been playing on a loop in my head since last night.

But patience is a weapon. And I want to see him squirm. I text Rose from the car: Had a great time tonight, we'll talk Monday. She responds with a heart emoji and a string of drunk nonsense. That I don't read it. I'm thinking about him. Is he there? Is he waiting? Is he doing what I told him?

The elevator ride feels endless; the hallway is lifeless as usual. The key in my hand feels like the most important thing I've ever held. My apartment is dark. But I can sense him. The shift in the air, the trace of his cologne, different from mine, lighter.

I don't call out. Don't announce myself. I walk through the apartment slowly. Quietly. Letting him hear my footsteps. Letting him wonder.

The bedroom door is open. He's on the bed. Exactly where I told him to be. Face up. Arms at his sides. Eyes fixed on the ceiling. He doesn't move when I appear in the doorway. Doesn't speak. Just lies there, breathing shallowly, waiting for me to make the first move.

Look at you, so beautiful on my sheets. I walk to the bed and stop at the edge.

"Grey."