Page 3 of Tied

Chapter 2

Cain

She looks so different than the last time I saw her. Her hair is a bit longer, the chocolate strands of her long bob now rest on her shoulders, and she’s wearing a lot more make-up, as evidenced by the thick black lines framing her gray-green eyes. She’s even wearing lipstick, but the color is too bold and too red for my taste.

The expression on her face derails for a split second when she first sees my covered face pop up on her screen. I’m wearing a black mask that reveals nothing but my eyes to her, and I expected her to flinch at the sight. After all, she thinks this is a job interview, one that includes some hurdles for her to clear to prove herself to a potential employer—nothing more and nothing less.

She’s not completely wrong about that. But I’m sure that the appearance of someone hidden behind a mask raises some questions for her.

As it should.

“Good job, Miss Prey,” I greet her with praise. “I didn’t expect to receive your call this early.”

She smiles but it closely resembles a smirk, and she is obviously trying to appear confident when it’s apparent that she’s nervous as fuck.

“It wasn’t my first time,” she says, the octave of her voice higher than I remember it. “To be honest, I was expecting a little bit more of a challenge, Mr…”

She stops abruptly, biting at her bottom lip as her eyebrows fly up.

Don’t know the name of your interviewer, little Riley? Oh, that can’t be good.

“Stanford,” I tell her.

She nods eagerly. “Yes, Mr. Stanford! I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, I understand,” I cut her off. “Nervous tension can get to the best of us.”

Riley swallows dryly and shifts uncomfortably on her seat. The coffeehouse I sent her to is packed with customers, but I made sure there would be room for her to sit exactly where I needed her to. By the window, with her back to the room so she doesn’t notice the eyes I have on her. Two of our guys are sitting at opposite ends of the coffeehouse undisturbed, watching Riley’s every move. The staff received clear instructions, and from the looks of it, they adhered to every single one—even though they have no idea what this is really about.

Riley’s expectant eyes rest on me as she waits for me to speak. I can see the questions written across her pretty face.

What does he want from me next?

Why is he not asking me anything?

Why is he wearing a mask?

I’m sure that last question is the most pressing one, and I wonder if she’ll have the courage to give voice to it.

“Are you scared, Miss Prey?”

A thin furrow emerges between her brows.

“Um, no,” she says.

Liar.

“I’m just a little confused at the…”

She coaxes me to finish her sentence, urging me wordlessly by arching her brows, but I’m not doing her that favor.

“Yes?”

“The… the mask,” she says, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “If I may ask, Mr. Stanford, why the mask?”

“Don’t you think I should be the one asking you questions?”

She straightens her posture immediately and hurries to nod. “Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Stanford.”

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