another door, and I…” She looks away from me. “I checked it out. I’m sorry.”
There’s some private shit in that room, not anything sensitive, but photos and family stuff.
“There’s stuff in there,” I interrupt. “Files and shit. What did you see?”
“Well, yes, there were some boxes and folders, but nothing of interest like books or anything. The only stuff I saw was clearly private, so I was going to go look in the turret room, but…”
She’s telling the truth. I’m almost a hundred percent sure of it, and it hits me then how good in so many ways she is. A lot of people would have snuck around, looking in the boxes, but it didn’t even occur to her. Despite me keeping her here against her will.
“Go on.”
She takes another sip of the drink and then another. “I heard voices, which I recognized pretty quickly as Liza and Denis. I … I eavesdropped. I was curious as to what they were doing up there together. So I listened to them. They were talking about the baby, and Liza was telling Denis they had to leave before you found out.”
“Found out what?” I can barely get the words out.
I want to hurt something, someone, for making her so scared, but the only person within reach is someone I’m going to have to treat like glass right now. With superhuman effort, I swallow down my rage and gentle my voice.
“Sunshine, find out what?”
“The baby, it’s not yours.” She starts to cry, but only a little. A few tears spill down her cheeks, but she doesn’t make a sound, and wipes them away immediately. “I’m so sorry, Konstantin. You don’t deserve this. Liza and Denis are working together. They’re … they’re together. I’m sorry.”
I don’t want her fucking pity. Her pity makes me want to squeeze the glass in my hand so hard it shatters.
So many emotions are hitting me right now. Relief that I don’t owe Liza a damn thing and am not tied to the bitch in any way. Disappointment that I’m not going to be a father, even if it is with a woman I despise. Anger that they’d betray me this way. And humiliation. I’m not used to feeling humiliated these days. I fucking hate the sensation. It reminds far too much of my childhood when poverty and a deadbeat dad made the emotion one of my constant companions.
“Cassie.” I keep my voice even. “I don’t give a fuck about Liza, or that she lied to me and screwed Denis.” I’m flat out lying to myself right now.
I don’t care for Liza, but no one wants to be fucked over in such a way. It’s Denis’ betrayal that burns the most. He’s the one I’ll make suffer, the thick bastard. Liza will simply be collateral damage.
“All I need to know is what the fuck happened.”
I’m losing my restraint on my temper, and she surely senses it because she glances at me again, and the fear is back.
Jesus fucking Christ, what do I have to do to make her talk?
Suddenly, I get an idea. A crazy one, but an idea. “Cassie,” I say. She looks at me.
“Stand up.”
She does as I say.
“Come over here, and let’s sit on the sofa.” I take hold of her hand, and she shoots me an astonished glance, but she doesn’t pull her hand away; instead, she sinks it deeper into my hold.
When we reach the sofa, I gently push her down by her shoulders.
“Do you remember what I told you to call me in the office?” I say. My voice is calm, but commanding.
“Sir?” She sounds confused now.
“Yes. Call me that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to,” I reply.
“Okay … sir.”
“Good girl.” And there it is again, the almost imperceptible relaxation at the praise. Or maybe, at the phrase. Who knows? I don’t have time to psychoanalyze her right now. All I know is it works.
“Cassie, can you do what I tell you? Answer yes, sir if you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. Good. Now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened, the rest of it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
I squeeze her shoulder gently as a sign she’s doing good. “Good girl. Just let it all out and tell me what happened.”
This time she starts to talk, and she’s calmer, clearer. When she’s finished telling me that the baby is Denis’, and how Liza and he are planning on running off together to an island in South America, I’m imagining cutting off Denis’ dick and making