“Remind me again why I can’t kill Luke fucking Malone?” I bite out.
Dale doesn’t even blink. “Because Anika asked you not to.”
I drag a hand through my hair, pacing once, twice, forcing my breathing to steady. “I should’ve bribed the judge,” I mutter.
“And risk Anika losing Sebastian altogether?” Dale asks. “We didn’t have a choice. This had to be done properly.”
I stop and release a long breath. He’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.
Anika is resting when I get back from the hearing. I don’t disturb her. Instead, I stand in the living room, staring out across London, trying to settle the restless anger still simmering under my skin.
A loud clatter breaks through the silence, metal on tile.
Followed by . . .
“Fuck. Shit. Damn.”
I turn, spotting Wynter on her knees in the kitchen, scrambling to gather a stack of baking trays she’s just dropped.
I take in the sight before I can stop myself. Bare knees pressed to the floor. Hair slipping loose from her ponytail.Flustered.
I drag my gaze away, my jaw tightening. “You shouldn’t curse, Ms. Lee,” I say sharply.
She jumps, nearly dropping the trays again. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carmichael. I didn’t know you were here.”
“So, it’s fine when I’m not around?” I ask.
Her head snaps up. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
Strands of hair fall around her face as she shifts, trying to gather everything at once. She’s making it worse. Clattering. Fumbling.Distracting.
“Are you always this clumsy?” I mutter impatiently.
She pauses for a second, then shrugs. The move is small, almost helpless. “I’m having an off day.”
I exhale slowly, stepping closer before I think better of it. “Move.” She freezes. “I said move,” I repeat, quieter this time.
She shifts back slightly, and I crouch, picking up the remaining trays with far more efficiency than she had managed.
When I stand, she’s watching me.
“What are you even doing?” I ask, stacking them neatly on the counter.
“Trying to cook,” she says, brushing her hands down her thighs. “Clearly failing.”
I glance at the ingredients laid out and frown. It’s simple stuff, basic. She shouldn’t be struggling.
“Have you eaten today?” I ask without looking at her.
She pauses before muttering, “Yes.”
I turn slowly. “Don’t lie to me, Wynter.”
Her lips press together but she doesn’t reply so I sigh heavily and ask, “How’s Anika been today?”
“A little quiet but fine.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why didn’t you call me if something was wrong?”
