He hasn’t stopped judging me since setting foot on the estate, and I know that’s not going to change anytime soon.
Between keeping an eye on my father’s men and keeping his ear to the ground to figure out what’s happening with our allies, Carlisle has his hands full.
I wonder if my father knows that having him here only makes things worse.
I shouldn’t add worrying about my father’s motives to my long list of things to do, but I also know I can’t turn my back on him for one second.
Father or not, Jack Payne won’t hesitate to take me down if I get in his way, and there are plenty of ways to make people suffer.
He doesn’t have to stick a knife in my heart to make me bleed.
Especially now that he’s seen me with London.
As soon as we get in the car, he slams the door shut and turns to me. “There are better uses for the assassin’s time.”
“Katia has other things to do.” I pause to pour myself a drink. “You don’t need to worry about her. We should discuss strategy.”
Jack drums his fingers against his thigh and looks out the window. “There is no strategy to discuss. The plan is clear. We make it clear that your lapse in judgment has no impact on our continued partnership, nor should it.”
I eye him over the rim of the glass and grip it tighter. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t refer to London as a lapse in judgment.”
He makes a vague hand gesture. “When it comes to the empire, certain decisions need to be made for the greater good.”
I take a long sip of the drink, and it burns a path down my throat. “They still need to be taught a lesson.”
Jack turns to me. “I have every intention of making sure they do, but we’re still going to the meeting to smooth some ruffled feathers. Better to have them in our corner.”
I take another sip and sit up straighter. “What are you planning?”
“That’s not your concern,” Jack replies coldly. “All you need to do is make sure to look apologetic for taking down the people at that abandoned house.”
I don’t like being kept in the dark, especially not where the empire is concerned, but I know better than to push.
Whatever punishment my father has for me, there are far worse things than sidelining me when it comes to business matters.
He’s toying with you. Taking charge of the meeting is child’s play compared to what he can do, and you know it.
Still, I’m relieved London isn’t tied up in a basement somewhere at his mercy.
I set the glass down with a little more force than necessary. “I will not apologize for protecting my own.”
Jack gives me a bored look. “We have nothing further to discuss.”
“We’re not done talking.”
He raps on the roof of the car, and it slides to a stop. The door opens, and he steps out. Then, I hurry after him, the protest dying on my lips when I see the group of men standing with their backs erect and guns bulging under their shirts.
What has my father agreed to?
I catch up to my father at the top of the stairs of the abandoned building, and he gives me a slow and meaningful look. Together, we step inside, our men sliding into place. Every nerve is heightened as a damp smell wafts up my nostrils and makes my stomach tighten.
The entryway is dark, and our footsteps are soundless against the carpet.
The lights flicker on, and I blink as the room shifts into focus, revealing an airy space with a high ceiling, big windows, and a wooden table in the center. I recognize some of the men in attendance, and my mind races.
Michael Everett and Lance Fitzpatrick are standing on the other side of the room, engaged in quiet conversation.
As if sensing my eyes on them, they glance up.
