Preston stared. "Who?"
"Malik Ashworth! The man we're waiting for upstairs. The principal investor in the three-hundred-fifty-million-dollar financing you need to close today."
Silence settled over the lobby. Curtis loosened his grip. Elise stared at her monitor. A woman who had been filming lowered her phone. The two directors behind Rachel stopped as though they had collided with an invisible wall.
Preston's face lost its color.
"You mean... that's him?"
Rachel turned on him. "Yes, Preston. That's him."
Malik remained still. His wrists were still cuffed. Nobody had yet opened them.
"What difference should it have made?" he asked quietly.
Rachel looked at him.
"Even if I weren't your investor," Malik continued, "what did I do that deserved this?"
No one answered.
Rachel faced Curtis. "Remove the cuffs."
The guard fumbled with the key. It slipped once between his fingers. Finally, the metal opened. Malik pulled his hands free and rubbed the red marks around his wrists.
Elise stepped out from behind reception, her eyes wet. "Mr. Ashworth, I'm sorry. Your appointment is here. I was in the wrong list. I was trying to find it."
Malik looked at her. "I know you were."
That simple acknowledgment made her look even more ashamed.
Rachel lowered her voice. "Malik, I'm sorry. This never should have happened."
He bent and picked up his scattered papers, straightening them against the edge of a nearby table. He did it carefully, because his hands were shaking and he didn't want the room to see.
"You don't need to explain what happened," he said. "I was standing here for it."
Preston opened his mouth as if to apologize. For one moment, everyone waited. Then his expression changed. His eyes moved toward the phones, the guards, the two directors, and the people watching. Shame gave way to calculation.
"Everyone back to work," he ordered. "This is being handled."
Rachel stared at him. "Preston."
"We'll conduct an internal review," he continued. "There was a lapse in guest verification. No one should make statements until legal has assessed the matter."
Malik stood with the folder under his arm. "A lapse in guest verification?"
Preston turned toward him with a businesslike expression. "Clearly there was a misunderstanding. Our office will be in touch about rescheduling."
"The signing is today," Rachel said.
"Not anymore." Preston looked at his watch again. "Given the circumstances, a brief delay is appropriate. Call it a security review."
"You created the circumstances," Rachel said.
"I'm protecting the company."
"From what? A guest you had handcuffed?"
Preston didn't answer. He leaned toward a woman who had hurried into the lobby with a phone in her hand. Diane Kesler, Yarrow Industries' head of communications, listened as he spoke in a low voice. She nodded, already typing.
Then Preston walked away with her toward the elevators.
Rachel looked back at Malik. "I'll correct this."
He glanced at the red marks on his wrists. "I hope you do."
"Please come upstairs. We can still talk."
Malik shook his head. "Not today."
She looked as though he had struck her. But she didn't argue.