Page 112 of Obsession

“I’ll tell you where to go,” she pouts. I pinch her thigh, and she squeals. “Okay, alright. So we’re heading south of the historical district.”

“Perfect.”

“So back to what I was saying earlier. Where on earth is that money?”

“That’s a very good question, and I think it would be worth our while asking Gray Descamps that very question.”

“Agreed. If I’m no one, and my parents made all that money… their income has to be hidden somewhere. It can’t just be like… under the mattress.”

“It’s pretty hard to hide millions under a mattress.”

“But it could be done.”

I snort. “Have you actuallyseenwhat a hundred million dollars looks like in cash?”

She raises a brow to me. “So we’ve gone up to a hundred million. I have not. Have you?”

“I have. I was once contracted to assist with a drug bust that ended up revealing the largest amount of cash ever confiscated in the history of the East Coast. We apprehended the drug dealers who’d kept two hundred and fifty million in cash in a bedroom.”

“Sothat’swhy your bed’s the size of a small island?”

I laugh out loud. “I knew you’d find out eventually.”

“Two hundred and fifty million is alotof fucking money. And if your father was as successful as you thought he was… well, that money’s definitely somewhere, isn’t it?”

She looks out the window. I wonder if she’s imagining herself wealthy, what she could do with that money. What she doesn’t know is that everything I have is hers for the taking, and there’s a reason she couldn’t afford my services.

Violet’s mine. I won’t ever let her go. And everything I own is hers.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says.

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“You could say it’s one of my talents.”

“And?”

“You don’t like the thought of me being wealthy.” There’s a pained sound to her voice I don’t miss.

She couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to be wealthy? Of course I do. Things are easier when you have money. I don’t like the thought of you going without at all.”

“No, Cain,” she says in a softer voice. “You don’t like the idea of me notneedingyou.”

I scoff. “I’m not that insecure, babe.”

She doesn’t reply. We’ll battle her goddamn insecurities until she knows exactly who she is and how much she’s worth.

“We’re only five minutes out now. What’s our plan?”

“He might suspect who you are as soon as he sees your eyes. Maybe we should’ve put your contacts in.”

She has color-changing contacts for times like these, when I don’t want anyone to remember her or identify her in a line-up.

“Nope. I want him to knowexactlywho I am when I interrogate him.”

“Wait, just last night you were saying that you didn’t want to hurt an elderly man.”

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