Page 171 of House of Payne

His earlier sentiment means nothing, not with everything hanging over us.

The real question is whether he’ll allow me to serve out my sentence, or if he’ll move in on my dad’s diner.

Katia is in front of me before I can react, and the look on her face makes me reach for the nearest weapon. I pick up the butter knife and hold it out. “I’m not your enemy, Katia. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Katia snorts. “I can take that knife from you before you even blink.”

I frown. “Why haven’t you?”

Katia’s dark eyes give nothing away. “My relationship with Mr. Payne is none of your concern. You should be focused on other things.”

I grip the knife tighter. “Like keeping myself safe?”

Katia flashes me a smile that sets me more on edge. “Yes, for starters. You should also be figuring out why your dad and Noah sold you out.”

“How did you…”

Katia raises a hand to silence me. “They’re both fine.”

My heart skips a beat. “How do you know that? If you’ve done anything to them, I swear to God, I’ll—”

Katia takes a menacing step toward me, and the rest of my sentence dies on my tongue. “You’ll what? Slice me open with a butter knife?”

I study her face, and my chest tightens. “Maybe.”

That earns me a chuckle from Katia. “You’re not as brainless as I thought.”

“I was going to say the same thing about you.”

She laughs. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I’ve cut down people for a lot less.”

I grip the knife tighter and square my shoulders. “Go ahead. Do your worst.”

Katia lets her eyes sweep over me. “I don’t think so. I’m not going to be used to solve your problems. As for your dad and Noah, who do you think figured out where to find you?”

I curl my free hand into a fist. “Why?”

Having me out of the way makes Katia’s life easier.

She wouldn’t have had to lift a finger, and she could’ve easily slithered her way back into Mason’s bed.

He would’ve gone back to her, anyway.

Katia no longer looks amused. “When he comes back to me, it’ll be because he’s tired of you.”

Like me, she has no interest in being anyone’s second choice.

Katia’s expression hardens as she snatches the knife from my hand and lets it fall to the floor with a clatter. “Figure out a way to clean up your mess, London. Mr. Payne doesn’t like loose ends, and neither do I.”

With that, she turns and exits the kitchen.

“Wait,” I call out, but she doesn’t stop. I stare at the space she occupied for a long time, my heart hammering in my chest. With shaky hands, I kneel to pick up the butter knife, then reach for the phone in my pocket and stare at the screen. I dial a number I know by heart and press it to my ear.

My dad answers on the sixth ring, sounding cheerful albeit a bit out of breath.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Was Katia right?