Page 2 of Worthy: Cassius and Faith 3

“No. Sir.” I straightened my shoulders.

“So what, exactly, was the plan?”

I frowned. “I didn’t have one yet. Sir.”

“Then get in the car. I’ll drive you myself—I have a business matter to attend to in the city, anyway.” He turned and looked straight ahead, waiting for me to obey.

I glanced back at the security guard, who was pretending not to listen. But he still had that gun strapped to his chest.

“What if I say no?” I asked.

Cassius inhaled deeply as if he were trying to gather what remained of his patience. “Then, by all means, walk to Boston.”

I looked down the deserted residential road. It would be one hell of a walk through Rhode Island.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Faith. There are no strings.” Cassius still stared straight ahead. “But I would prefer it if the police didn’t see one of my former employees fleeing on foot at the crack of dawn. It’s not exactly the look we’re going for.”

“Fine.” I slid into the car. Maybe it was better riding with the devil I knew instead of hitchhiking with some devil I didn’t.

“Can I have my phone? Please?” He handed it to me, and I quickly checked my messages. There was nothing from Lucas or the treatment center, which was a good sign.

“Is everything all right with your brother?” Cassius asked.

I gaped at him, surprised that he’d remembered, even more surprised that he’d asked. “Yes, thank you. He’s doing fine… Sir.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ anymore,” Cassius said.

He maneuvered his behemoth luxury car around the corner and into the prestigious Harbor Crest neighborhood. Hawthorne Drive was loaded with picturesque mansions, each with enormous, rolling lawns. But none compared to 444 Hawthorne, the Blackwoods’private pleasure playground.

“Why not?” I asked.

The billionaire glanced at me. “Because you quit. When I realized you’d left the Master Chamber, I went to your suite and found your note.”

“Oh,” I said lamely.

“What address are you headed to?” Cassius asked, his tone indifferent.

“The treatment center’s down by Dana Farber, on Brookline Avenue.”

He glanced at me, taking in my disheveled appearance. “I’ll take you home first so you can shower and change. Your hair’s a bit… mussed.”

My cheeks heated. “You don’t have to do that, Si—” I caught myself before I said it again. “That’s nice of you, but I’m fine.”

“I can assure you that you’re not. What is your address?’

I squirmed in my seat, feeling miserable. “I’m… I’m actually between places at the moment,” I admitted. “So there’s nowhere to go.”

He sighed; it sounded like a hiss. “I’ll take you to my penthouse. You can shower and change before you see your brother.”

“You don’t have to do that?—”

Cassius waved me off. “I consider it my obligation as your former employer.”

He didn’t say another word for the rest of the ride. A full hour and a half of silence stretched between us. I longed to talk to him, ask him questions, and tell him I was sorry I’d run away after our night together. But I didn’t know what he was thinking, so I didn’t say a word.

And neither did the billionaire.

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