Cassandra watched Reeves across the coffee table. His fidgeting as he focused on his fingernails left her cold like the changing weather.

She stared, wondering how her monitor hadn't worked in his study for nearly three days. He just wasn't clever enough, despite his role in security, to have blocked it. She could care less about many of his other locations, turning them off to spare hers from his more embarrassing moments.

She stared. He fidgeted. She was grateful that she held so much over him that she no longer had to use her sexuality to manipulate him. Ever since helping him secure the Abacus, contraband in Veridian Center, she never looked back on the relationship before. 'It's funny,' she thought, 'how easy it was to feed his hunger for artifacts, like rabbits to a carrot.'

She stood to stretch her legs as she walked around the office. She could feel his eyes on her. She ran her finger across the desk to expose her sleek lines. She would never turn back to those days, but there was no harm in him admiring her. "I do like your collection, Norman," she said. Her gaze dropped to the empty space where the Abacus should have been. Her fingers drummed against the desk—once, twice—before stopping abruptly. The silence that followed spoke volumes, pressing against the room like an unanswered question.

“Oh!” The shock was genuine, followed instantly by a controlled veneer of calm, though the panic lingered beneath. “Is ... the Abacus out getting cleaned?”

"No, I was robbed," he said.

The disabled Stylus remained hidden in her palm, its smooth surface growing warmer against her skin. The fleeting opportunity to return it unnoticed had vanished, dissipating into the void left by the missing Abacus. She looked over his shoulder to read him. "Really," it wasn't a question. It was just shy of an accusation.

"God damn best security money can buy and everything's going missing," he said. "A week ago the Stylus, followed by the Abacus a few days after."

“You do love your toys, Norman,” she said turning her shoulders towards him. Shaking her head slowly. She slid the Stylus into an opening in her dress securing it as she moved both hands behind her back to rest palm down on his desk. She leaned back into a comfortable position while aligning her body in sleek lines. His eyes followed her as she derived unique pleasure attracting him to her body. Her hips rested against the desk as she slightly stretched arching her back before relaxing back into an inviting and vulnerable position.

"Have you considered having the area scanned for monitoring devices?" she said twisting the moment to get at least half of what she came for. Whatever was blocking his augments from sending his information from this study needed to be discovered as soon as possible.

He looked back at his fingernails, then gestured, "Norman here, I need someone to scan my office today." There was a brief pause, "No damnit, nothing's wrong. I just need you to do your fucking job!"

"Well that was pleasant," Cassandra replied as he cut his comm-link. "Too bad no one saw the perpetrator."

Norman glared at her, and she picked up immediately.

"Don't look at me that way Norman dear," she met him with equal assertiveness, sitting up and crossing her arms just below her chest. "Careful who you accuse." The Stylus pressed awkwardly across her thigh. She would have to return it some other day.

She had hired one of the best to lift the Stylus during a security review. There was no way it could be tracked back to her—at least not by him. 'Perhaps,' she thought to herself, 'I could have stretched the timing better.'

Norman dropped his gaze to his fingernails, the gesture more an escape than an answer. Threatening her always left him feeling like a child—powerless, and painfully aware of it. She toyed with him, one moment seductive, the next hard and controlling, able to control him better than his mother ever could. He both hated and loved it. Besides, she had basically helped him take and keep his position. In return, he helped her found the museum and climb social ranks. It was practically a marriage without physical intimacy, while he stayed wanting.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Confessing like a small boy, "Actually, I was here when the Abacus was stolen. Tied to that very chair." He nodded over at the office chair close to Cassandra.

"I see," Cassandra said as she stood and walked over to the chair.

He watched her hands run over the arms and up along the backrest, caressing it. He felt a fire grow within him watching her and remembering the girl that had dominated him so completely in that chair a few nights earlier. As Cassandra rounded the chair she met his gaze, her hand coming down from the backrest and across the other armrest. Like a schoolgirl, she hopped and plopped into the chair before placing her arms behind her back and posing as if tied up.

"Like this?" Her voice carried a mockingly sweet lilt, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

He wanted to choke her like the thief did. He wanted to manipulate her like the thief did. The fire swelled within him, an anger and a rage. "Goddamn it, stop messing around!"

Cassandra moved her arms from behind her resting them on the chair and leaning back while crossing her legs, their eyes connecting for many moments in silence.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, before she finally broke it. "Don’t be bashful, Norman dear. Tell Cassandra everything." Her eyes glinted with a mischievous delight, he had her complete attention.

Norman stood to shake off the attention while also delighting in it. He walked to the window where Ava exited nearly three days earlier. The curtains open despite the falling temperatures. He looked out at the evergreen garden and wondered when they would be shutting down the fountains. 'Won't be long now," he thought to himself, still collecting himself.

Cassandra waited patiently watching Norman look out over the grounds of his estate.

"Not much to tell, Cassandra," he said. "I was observing my collection and had just noticed the missing Stylus." He turned to look at her on the word Stylus.

Cassandra's eyebrows raised as she nodded her head in a gentle 'no'. "Norman! You stop that," she said knowing there was no way to track it back to her feeling it press against the chair and gently twisting the bands that held it under her dress. "Go on now you silly man."

"Well," he continued. "She tied me up."

"She?"

He suddenly felt ashamed. He had been manhandled so easily by a female thief. She was easily half his weight. "She was strong, Cassandra. Okay?"

"I didn't mean..."

"Fine, whatever." Norman didn't want to explain or relive the humiliation. "She asked a few questions—stupid ones—and she was gone, Abacus in tow. I was tied up all night in that chair. I still have a crick in my neck."

"Aww," Cassandra said feigning sympathy in a heavily demasculating way.

"Look, that's it. That's the story," Norman said turning back to look out the window.

Cassandra stood and walked to him. She put her hand on his outside shoulder and stood close beside him giving him a little squeeze as she watched his face looking out over the balcony. "Come now, Norman," she said. "What could a thief possibly want to know from the head director of Veridian security?" She reached up turning using two fingers to turn his chin towards her to look at her. "Even if you are too embarrassed to report the theft, Normy. You need to think carefully about every question she asked."

"I...," he didn't really think about it that way. She was so close to him. He could smell her jasmine perfume, so delicious. Her eyes implored him as he lost himself in them momentarily. "Good point, Cassandra," his eyes focused on hers now. "She asked about Kai."

"Kai?" she asked. He wasn't blind or deaf. He could tell that hit a nerve. Cassandra looked away, then out the window, then away again. Her arm slid off his shoulder as she turned back into the room, facing where the Abacus would have been. The wheels turned in her mind as she now saw the theft very clearly now. The only question that remained was how did Kai get a message to the underground to tell them where to look. Moments passed, "Sarah!"

"What's that," Norman asked. "I know Sarah," he said. "The thief was not Sarah. The thief was shorter and thinner."

She turned to glare at him. 'Of course, you're telling me someone smaller than Sarah tied you up, questioned you, and stole from you? Makes perfect sense.' He deserved chastising. Of course, she didn't mean Sarah stole from him, but it did give an idea.

Cassandra quickly accessed a video from the night at Lezchic. One moment in particular stood out: just before Sarah left, a girl had approached her with unusual familiarity. It had seemed insignificant then, but now it fit too perfectly.

"Is this her," Cassandra said bringing up an image of Ava wrapping her arm around her shoulder with her palm on her chest.

"I said it wasn't Sarah, Cassandra," he said. "I swear you just don't listen sometimes," his comment falling flat.

"No, you fool," she said cutting his thoughts like a knife and coming out harsher than intended. Norman felt his hands clenched into fists. "The girl with her hand on her chest! Hmmm, doesn't look all that strong now does she."

"Oh," Norman looked closer. The thief did have long blond hair. "Maybe. That figure and blond hair... she wore a mask," he studied closer putting up fingers to mask her face. "Oh my God, Cassandra!" He exclaimed. "Yes, I think that is her, very possibly."

The security team interrupted the conversation with a knock as the door opened slightly, "Sorry to disturb you, sir. Can we perform the security scan now?"

"Yes, thank you," said Norman.

"Well, that’s my exit," Cassandra said, gliding past the security team with a self-assured smile. The Stylus pressed snugly against her leg—a secret carried with her.