Chapter 6: A Tightening Leash (And What Lies Underneath)

I stand outside Tate's office, my heart pounding in my chest. My hand hovers over the doorknob, hesitating, as if I could somehow avoid the inevitable. But there's no avoiding it. Not anymore. With a deep breath, I push the door open and step inside.

Tate is there, as expected, leaning against his desk with that cold expression. But what makes my blood run cold is the sight of Ashwin, casually sitting in one of the chairs, his smile so practiced, so fake, it makes my skin crawl.

The moment I see him, the memories flood back—his hands, his breath, the way he crushed me under his weight. I can't breathe, can't think, but I force myself to stay calm. To not let them see the fear that's tearing me apart.

"Ah, Sparky," Tate says, his voice dripping with condescension as usual. "Come in. We were just talking about you."

I swallow hard, keeping my gaze fixed on Tate and avoiding Ashwin's eyes at all costs. "What do you want?"

"We were just discussing some... future plans," Ashwin says, his tone so smooth, so innocent, it makes me sick. "Tate and I were going over some ethical business practices, considering how important it is to maintain a good public image."

I almost choke on the irony. Ethical business practices? From him? After what he did to me? I don't even know how he can sit there and say those words with a straight face.

Tate, though, doesn't seem fazed by Ashwin's pretense. He just watches me with an unreadable expression on his face. "I've decided to reward you, Cadence," he says suddenly, holding out a check. "For your... compliance."

I stare at the check, confused. Reward? Compliance? What is this, a bribe? A payment for keeping my mouth shut?

I don't reach for it, too shocked to move. My mind races, trying to make sense of his actions, but it's impossible. Nothing about Tate Mercer makes sense.

"Take it," he insists, his tone sharper now. "Consider it a bonus for all your hard work."

My hand trembles as I finally reach out, and our fingers brush as I take the check from him. It's like an electric shock, a jolt that sends my heart racing for reasons I don't want to admit. But then, just as quickly, he pulls away and hardens his expression.

"Don't think this makes you special, Sparky," he suddenly says coldly. "You're still nothing but a dirty little janitor."

His words sting, more than I'd like to admit, and my eyes well up with tears. I hate him. I hate him so much it hurts. But there's something else too, something twisted and confusing that I can't shake.

"Get out," he snaps, turning away as if the sight of me disgusts him. "I don't want to see your filthy tears."

I don't need to be told twice. I turn and leave the office, my heart in my throat and the check clenched tightly in my hand. As the door closes behind me, I hear Ashwin's voice, sneering and cruel.

"Quite the charity case, isn't she? Can't believe you even bother with her."

I don't hear Tate's response, but I can imagine the disdain in his voice, the way he probably dismissed me as nothing more than a passing curiosity. But there's something deeper going on, something he's not admitting even to himself.

$$$—$$$

Tate's POV

I watch her go, the door closing with a soft click, and I feel... something. I don't know what it is. Frustration? Anger? Guilt? No, not guilt. I'm not capable of that. Not for her.

Ashwin's voice grates on my nerves as he starts rambling about how pathetic she is, how she's just a dirty, insignificant girl. But it annoys me more than it should. "Shut up, Ash," I snap, "If she's so worthless, why are you even talking about her?"

Ashwin's taken aback for a moment, but then he smirks, leaning back in his chair. "Just saying, Tate. Maybe she'd make a good test subject, you know, for one of our... experiments."

"Don't be an idiot," I cut him off, my tone sharp. "You insult her and then suggest that? Sometimes you really piss me off."

He shrugs, unbothered by my irritation. "Whatever, man. Just a thought."

The door opens then, and one of the female employees steps in—a curvy, beautiful woman with a practiced smile. Ashwin perks up immediately, his demeanor shifting to one of eager anticipation.

I don't even bother looking at her properly. My mind's somewhere else. On someone else.

I hand Ashwin the key to the "P-room," the private space we keep for our more... exclusive activities. "Have fun," I mutter, barely paying attention as he leaves with the woman, already laughing and whispering in her ear.

But as he goes, my thoughts drift back to her. To Cadence. To Sparky. She's in my head, dug deep, and I hate it. I hate that I can't stop thinking about her, can't stop this sick fascination that's growing inside me.

She's so dirty, so beneath me, and yet... I can't get her out of my mind. I keep seeing her in my office, her fingers brushing mine as she took the check, the way her eyes filled with tears when I insulted her. And it did something to me. Something I don't like.

I can't let this continue. I need to control it, control her. But the more I try, the more she slips through my fingers, the more I find myself drawn to her, obsessed with her.

$$$—$$$

Cady's POV

Days pass, and every moment feels like I'm hanging on the edge of a cliff. I can feel Tate's eyes on me, watching my every move. His presence is unbearably suffocating. He's everywhere—at work, outside my apartment, even in my dreams. I can't escape him, no matter how hard I try.

Every plan I come up with to escape falls apart before it even begins. The men he's sent to watch me make sure of that. Every time I try to sneak out, they're there, blocking my path, reminding me that I'm trapped. Every time I try to reach out to someone for help, they're there, looming in the background with a silent threat that keeps me in line.

But what's worse is the emotional rollercoaster Tate's putting me through. One moment, he's cruel, cutting me down with his words, reminding me of my place. The next, he's showing glimpses of something else, something almost human, and it's messing with my head.

Like the time I saw him with a business partner's kid. The little boy was giggling as Tate made funny faces at him. I watched from the sidelines, stunned, as this monster of a man—this cold and heartless bastard—played with the child as if he had a heart. It didn't make sense. It didn't fit with the Tate Mercer I knew.

And then, there was the homeless man. I was walking home, my mind a fog of despair, when I saw him—Tate, standing on the corner, handing a stack of bills to a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk. It wasn't a publicity stunt; there were no cameras, no one around to witness it. It was just him, quietly giving away what could have been someone's ten-years rent money, and for what? Charity? Kindness?

It made my head spin. How could someone so cruel, so evil, do something so... good?

But then, as if to remind me of who he really is, he'd turn around and insult me again, call me names, reduce me to nothing more than a dirty little janitor. And I'd hate him all over again, even as that nagging doubt continued to grow.

What's his game? What does he want from me? And why does it feel like there's something more going on, something I can't see, can't understand?

$$$

Tate's POV

I'm losing it. I know I am. Every day, I'm more drawn to her, more obsessed. I keep telling myself it's just a game, just a way to keep her under my control. But it's more than that. It's deeper, darker.

She's under my skin, in my blood, and I can't get her out. I watch her, every day, every minute, and the more I see, the more I want her. Not just physically—though that's a given—but emotionally. I want to break her, mold her, make her mine in every way possible.

And yet, there's something else, something I can't put into words. It's a need, a craving, to understand her, to know why she affects me the way she does. Why she's different.

I keep pushing her, keep testing her, but it's not enough. I need more. I need to know her, inside and out, to own every part of her. And that terrifies me because it's not just about control anymore. It's about something deeper, something more dangerous.

I'm playing with fire, and I know it. But I can't stop. I won't stop.

$

But there's something else, something buried deep in my mind, just out of reach. A memory, a connection. Something that tells me this isn't the first time our paths have crossed, that she's more than just a random girl who wandered into my world.

I don't know what it is, but it's there, nagging at me, pulling at the edges of my consciousness. Every time I look at her, I feel it—a sense of déjà vu, of something familiar.

And then, there's her eyes. Those eyes. They remind me of someone, someone I knew a long time ago. Someone who meant something. Someone I lost.

But that's impossible. Isn't it?

I shake the thought away, dismissing it as nonsense. It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it'll come to me eventually. And when it does, I'll be ready.

Because if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's this: Cadence Morgan isn't just some nobody. She's tied to my past, to something I've forgotten—or buried. And I'm going to find out what it is, no matter what it takes.

That day ~ November 19th, 2004.