What the hell could Alexander King want?

Logan

I stared at the phone in my hand. The screen glowed with the same thing I’d been seeing all day.

There was no reply.

I clenched the device so hard my knuckles turned white.

My thumb flicked down the screen again, rows of unanswered calls, read messages with no replies. I called once more.

It went straight to voicemail.

Switched off?

She turned off her phone!

The groan that left me was low, but it still echoed across the dining room.

"Is your wife not picking up?" A deep voice asked.

I looked up slowly.

My father sat across from me at the head of the long mahogany table, his eyes cold and unreadable beneath his silver-streaked hair. The clink of his knife hitting the edge of his plate was the only sound he made as he cut his steak.

“No. She hasn’t returned my calls. I'm sorry. She went to her father’s house, and I assumed she’d be back by now. She should have been here to welcome you.”

He paused, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “It’s fine, your wife also ha