“Let me guess," Kaylee muttered as she stepped into the sleek black town car. “This is supposed to intimidate me?"
Jordan Mara gave her a pleasant, PR-perfect smile. “This is called hospitality, Miss Hart."
“I'm not your guest."
“You're Mr. Wolfe's… history," he replied, folding his hands. “And history always has a habit of knocking twice."
She shot him a glare. “Save the poetic nonsense. Why the sudden interest in talking?"
Jordan adjusted his cufflinks. “Because Clarence believes in resolution."
“No," she snapped. “Clarence believes in control."
The car slipped through downtown like a panther in traffic. Kaylee watched the skyline blur past.
“You knew, didn't you?" she asked quietly. “What he did to me. The island. The guards. All of it."
“I know what Clarence tells me to know,"
