“There will be no more talk of taking my father on,” I say. “I know neither of you is stupid enough to think these walls don’t have ears.”
“He has to be stopped,” London protests. “You can’t expect me to sit around while he puts a hit out on my family.”
I turn to London. “You can, and you will. I already told you that I’d take care of it.”
London blows out a breath. “But Mathew—"
I clench one of my hands into a fist and ignore the surge of irritation coursing through me. “I said I’m taking care of it. Katia, take London back up to her room and make sure she stays there.”
“But—”
“Go.” I level London with a pointed look. “Don’t make me do something you won’t like.”
London raises her chin and stares at me. “We need to talk about this.”
I glare at her. “I will fucking drag you out of here kicking and screaming if you don’t leave.”
Still, she hesitates.
“Or I can throw you over my shoulder,” I add. “Your choice.”
She strides past me with Katia following on her heels. I wait a few moments before leaving the basement, pausing to lock the door behind me.
I know London isn’t happy with me, but I don’t care.
She needs to fall in line before she causes any more damage, and I can’t figure out how to get through to her.
You can find other ways to make your point.
Growling, I storm into my office and go straight to the small table with the glass decanter. I pour a drink and swirl the amber liquid around the glass as I consider my options. I’m itching to teach London a lesson, but I know I can’t handle this in my usual way.
London isn’t a problem to be dealt with.
No matter how frustrating she is, she’s not doing it on purpose.
The last thing she needs is another reason to leave.
I’m halfway through my second glass when I realize that talking doesn’t work.
So, what are you going to do? Lock her up and only allow her out for brief periods to eat and get fresh air? She’ll resent you if you treat her like a prisoner.
I push back against the irritation and frown into my glass.
When I turn back around, a third drink in hand, Carlisle is darkening my doorway, a few fresh cuts on his face. He approaches my desk, stopping on the other side, and linking his hands behind his back. His eyes are gleaming.
“You finally have some news.”
Carlisle nods. “Yes. You were right. The man we caught at the crash site… he’s a contractor. The Fitzpatricks and Everetts hired him to stage the attack on London and Katia. Their goal wasn’t to have the car crash. It was to send a message.”
The glass cup in my hand shatters, sending shards in every direction.
I ignore the blood dripping down my hand and step out from behind the desk. “And why are you fucking telling me? I said I wanted whoever was responsible on their hands and knees in front of me.”
Carlisle clears his throat. “They’re not the only ones responsible.”
I motion for him to continue.
“There’s a contract killer for hire,” Carlisle continues. “There’s a bounty on London’s head.”
