What the hell have I done?
Chapter Sixteen
Mason
I frown at the drink and lift it back to my lips.
After downing another glass, I gesture to the nearest waitress. In the background, voices float in and out of focus, punctuated by the occasional thump of the music. Now and again, a laugh draws my attention, and I glance up to see one of the girls leading a client away, the two of them drunk on the promise of the night.
Idiots.
They have no idea what’s waiting for them.
None of them do.
You don’t believe London did any of this on purpose, do you? You’ve only been together a few months, and she knows you can’t promise her a family.
Except I had known when I laid eyes on her that it was something she wanted.
Her years with Noah together meant she wasn’t afraid of commitment. I want to kick myself for not being more careful, but I also want to blame London.
How could she not have noticed?
And why in the fuck didn’t she tell me sooner?
I have half a mind to storm back down there and demand answers, but I know it won’t get either of us anywhere.
With a grunt, I sink lower into my booth and snatch the drink before the waitress sets it on the table. I down the one in my hand and wince at the burn. Then, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. My fingers hover over Carlisle’s name as my thoughts clamor over each other.
My right-hand man can’t do anything unless he can convince London to go to Doctor Shepard.
Carlisle is a man of many skills, but I doubt this is one of them.
My headache has spread to the rest of my head, making spots dance in my vision. I stand up and push back against a wave of nausea. Then I place one foot in front of the other until I’m back in the office. When the door creaks open, I’m not surprised London isn’t there.
Why would she be when I was the one who stormed out?
She’s had time to wrap her head around all this, and she should’ve offered you the same courtesy. There is nothing wrong with the way you reacted.
Guilt and frustration rise within me as I sit behind my desk and prop up my feet.
When Katia finds me, I’m still rubbing my temples and muttering to myself. She lingers in the doorway, half-hidden in the shadows. I lower my feet to the floor. She doesn’t move, but the weight of her gaze is inescapable.
Is she here to read me the riot act?
I don’t know how or when Katia developed a fondness for London, but each day it’s proven more of a nuisance.
She’s my assassin, and she’s here to do what I tell her to, not braid hair and gossip.
“Either say what you came to say, or make yourself useful,” I say hoarsely. I pause to clear my throat and level her with a cold look. “What’s happening with Lond’s parents?”
I still have no idea how they managed to give Nadia the slip.
Katia steps into the office, her face still giving nothing away. “Nothing unusual. Nadia is keeping a closer eye out.”
“Good. She better not slip up again.”
Because I have no idea how many more eyes and ears my enemies have within these walls.
