David's POV
The plane had barely touched down when Siena's call came through.
"Welcome back, sir," her voice crackled through the phone. "Your father requests an immediate meeting upon your arrival."
"Christ," I growled, raking my fingers through my hair as the wind whipped it back across my face. The waiting car sat like a black shadow on the tarmac, its driver already holding the door open with practiced efficiency.
"Welcome home, sir," the driver said with a respectful nod.
I slid into the leather seat, my jaw clenched tight. I'd fled London with nothing but the clothes on my back, my phone, and my passport. Every fiber of my being had screamed against leaving Cornelia sleeping in that bed, warm and perfect, but duty had dragged me away. Now I'd have to face the old bastard on top of everything else churning in my chest.
"Tell Griffin I'll see him after I clean up," I said into the phone, watching the familiar London skyline blur past the window.
