Page 17 of When Kings Fall

He took a beat, the answered, “Mason here. He’s… what? Where? Okay, yeah, I’m listening.”

And that was all he did.

Whoever was on the other end had clearly told him to stop with the questions and just listen real carefully.

“Yeah, got it.”

The call ended and Mason absently stowed his phone away.

When he glanced at me, I didn’t like the look in his eyes one bit.

In fact, it sent a shudder down my spine.

“Who was it? Was it about Bree? Is she—”

“Things have taken a turn.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

7

~Levi~

The diner was dead silent.

There was literally nobody inside.

No patrons, no staff.

I eyed my dad across the ugly brown plastic booth, looking jarringly out of place sitting in a joint like this in his navy striped Brunello Cucinelli suit.

He reached into his pocket and tossed a protein bar down on the table in front of me. “Here. Eat.”

How did he know I really needed something to fuel me right about now? “Thanks,” I said, not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I opened the bar and took a bite, chewing quickly as he just stared at me—or more like studied and analyzed me.

Once I’d swallowed, I cut through the silence and asked, “You bought this place out for a couple of hours?”

“No. I bought it, period.”

Oh no. That didn’t bode well.

Best to just address it directly then, seeing as though he wasn’t giving it to me upfront.

“You hate the food services industry from a business investment perspective.”

“It’s a gift.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“For your girlfriend’s father.”

Fuck.

I was usually as cool as they came, able to remain calm in the face of pretty much anything, to stand my ground and come out on top.

But when it came to Roman Knight, it was different.

I’d met my match.

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