Page 25 of The Sweetest Devotion

Cain had been here longer than me, so he knew what he wanted. “Can you bring a bottle of your best red wine?” He glanced at me. “Do you like red?”

I shook my head. “I don’t drink.”

Cain returned to Max. “I’ll take the wine, and she’ll have whatever she likes.”

In the end, I chose a simple glass of water with a lemon in it. By the time Max had swung back around with our drinks, I’d scoured the menu twice over in an effort to avoid talking to Cain.

Cain ordered the pan-seared foie gras, something that made my stomach lurch in guilt and disgust. I settled on a halibut dish and a side salad.

And then we were alone, awaiting our meals with nothing else to do but talk.

“Something came up,” I started saying, waving my hand dismissively on my departure from our party. “An emergency with my friend.”

Cain reached into his jacket. He brandished a small pad of paper and a pen and set it on the table. “Why don’t we get to know each other a little more? Starting with you giving me your cell phone number so I can get ahold of you in cases ofemergencies.”

If he was calling me a liar, at least he’d been polite about it.

Reluctantly, I recited my cell number as I squeezed my fists shut under the table.

Cain jotted it down quickly before looking over at me. “You ordered the halibut—are you a big seafood eater?”

“I’m a pescatarian,” I told him.

He wrote this down.“I eat meat. Will that be a major problem?” He almost seemed sincere.

I cleared my throat, brushing off falling for his tone. If he were sincere, he would’ve asked me to marry him face-to-face, or taken my rejection instead of this. “I’m not a fan of foie gras, but typically, meat eaters don’t offend me.” On a rare occasion, I’d eat chicken with Jadyn.

“Favorite snack?”

“Cotton candy grapes,” I answered. “Which is ironic, since I don’t like cotton candy or the flavor for candy.”

Cain wrote all this down as if he were studying for an important test. One could argue at least hewantedto know things about me.

“Aren’t you going to ask me questions, Kennedy?” Cain asked as he brought his attention from his pad to me.

I didn’t want to get to know him, but if I were stuck in this, I supposed I should’ve tried to see if he weren’t completely terrible. “Why did you bring me into this deal with my dad?”

“I like turning nos into yeses,” Cain said simply.“I’m not a fan of asking for things, but if I’m approached on something, I want it worth my while.”

“I’m not a piece of stock,” I snapped.

My attitude didn’t deter Cain. His dark empty eyes took me in, examining me. “No, you’re not. Next question.”

In another moment, we were joined by his heavier associate.

“Dice, Huffman said he can’t pay you in full,” the man said as he leaned down toward Cain’s ear.

Cain blinked, but no emotion came to his face. “We gave him a lot of…chips. Tell him I wantallthat they’re worth.”

The man accepted this. “And if he can’t bring it in?”

Cain traced his finger along the rim of his wineglass, face a blank canvas. “Then I hope infant-size coffins are cheap.”

I choked on my air, unable to play off my blatant fear.

There it was. That darkness I’d sensed about him from the moment I first met him. He was a killer. A coldblooded one at that.

We were at a public restaurant, not within earshot but he still spoke of taking a life as if he were debating an Armani suit versus Tom Ford.

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