“Whose?”
“Erin O’Connor’s. She died six weeks ago.”
“What? No.” I frown. “Erin O’Connor was with Nina Sunday night!”
He drops his head, and when he lifts it again, there’s regret in his eyes.
“Vin.”
His shoulders drop, and I know.
It’sher.
“Fucking tell me, Vinny!”
“Cara Langer.” He steps forward, pulling a sheet of paper from the file. “She bought the studio a week prior to you meeting her. She changed every detail that could trace it to her and put it in a different name. Honestly, I don’t know how I missed it.”
My head spins, my eyes pinching tight as I bring my hand up to my forehead.
How has this happened?
“Cara. She owns Nina’s studio?”
“I’m so sorry, Mason.”
Fuck! I link my hands behind my head and turn my back to Vinny.
She can’t be there. I can’t have her there.
I grit my teeth, closing my eyes as pain slices through me. “Sell it.”
“What? You can’t sell it when it doesn’t belong to you.”
“I can and I will. I can’t have it linked back to Nina. Imagine how it would look. Have it put on the market for a quick and quiet sale.”
“No.”
My head snaps around, my eyes wild as I try to control my anger. “You’ll fucking sell it!” My fist comes down on my desk, and he recoils. Shame fills me, but I don’t stop, too far gone. Everything is too far gone. “You think you can stand there and tell me fucking no, Vin? I pay you to do a job, so prove to me you can do it,” I spit.
“She would never forgive you, you know. Dancing is her life.”
My heart throbs. Actual physical pain that runs deep in my chest. “What choice do I have?” I say at a loss. “I can’t let her be connected to this. I won’t allow it.”
“You’re making a huge mistake. You want to sell her studio, then you do it yourself.” He shakes his head at me, placing the sheet of paper back on the desk. His fist clenches white against it, and I know there’s no persuading him.
“George, get me Lance Sullivan,” I say through the intercom, rolling my tongue over my teeth as my knee bounces in agitation.
“On it now, boss!” George buzz’s back.
The keys to the Audi hit my desk, followed by the set of keys that belong to everything I own. “That’s me, Mase. I’m done here.” Vinny leans in, and my nostrils flare, my eyes burning as I stare down at the carpet, unable to hold his eyes.
My chin trembles and I clench my jaw to stop it.
“Sixteen years, and I have never been more disappointed in you.” He rights himself, then leaves my office, not looking back.
“FUUCKK!” I roar, my chest rising and falling as I try to control my emotions.
Picking up the mug off my desk, I launch it across the room, shattering the glasses and jug of water laid out across the coffee table. Not satisfied or feeling remotely better, I walk over, flipping the table with my foot and smashing it to pieces.
