The rim of her glass caught the lights, distorting the amber liquid inside. Katherine stirred the contents lazily, her mind far from the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses surrounding her. The decision to linger after the dinner banquet was, in retrospect, undeniably stupid.
The rest had moved on—either back to their hotel rooms or off to do their own thing, yet here she sat—alone at the bar, trapped by the sort of fate she used to laugh off. And now, look what that foolish impulse had summoned.
Leonard.
He wasn’t even supposed to be here. She had no idea he’d be attending the sa business convention, let alone find himself in the sa bar, sitting just one seat away, separated from her only by a single, deliberately empty stool. It was a buffer she wished could grow wider by the second.
The man hadn’t changed. That sharp, calculated look still lived in his eyes, even as he sat casually with one arm propped along the edge of the bar counter, looking as though this were a normal night. As though ti hadn’t passed with a gaping silence between them.
Leonard raised a hand slightly, catching the bartender’s attention. "Old Fashioned. Make it neat," he said. Then, glancing sideways at Katherine, his voice took on a conversational lilt. "Want another?"
Katherine didn’t even look up. She gave her glass a tiny, precise swirl. Her lips twitched faintly with sarcasm. "Hope you’re not trying to get drunk. Or drug . Or both."
Leonard chuckled, leaning forward slightly, his voice dipping into amusent. "Why do you always think the worst of , Katherine?"
She finally lifted her gaze. "Because I learned from the best."
That wiped the smile off his face for a second—just a second—before he acted like it didn’t bother him at all—just like always.
"I take it Felix isn’t here?" he asked, tilting his head toward her glass.
Katherine didn’t answer right away. She picked up her drink and took a slow sip, then set the glass down with a soft thunk. "I believe that’s none of your business."
"Don’t be like that." Leonard turned fully now, facing her with his elbows resting on the bar, an easy pose that belied the tension beneath it. "I’m just trying to have a nice, civil conversation."
Katherine didn’t look at him, but her posture stiffened. She crossed one leg over the other and set her elbow on the bar, chin in hand. "Then you probably should’ve picked soone else to talk to."
Leonard only smiled. It was small, almost polite, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah, well," he said, "The thing is I don’t want to talk to anyone else."
For a few seconds, silence settled between them. Leonard’s eyes flicked over her face, searching, maybe trying to read what lay behind the carefully set expression she wore like armor.
Katherine didn’t respond, didn’t even blink. She kept her eyes fixed ahead, staring at the shelves of glowing liquor bottles behind the bar, as if they held so answer she hadn’t yet figured out.
Leonard continued, "Without Felix around, this whole thing’s a lot easier. You and —no buffer, no distractions. Just talking. Don’t you think it’s nice?"
From the corner of her eye, Katherine caught the way he watched her—too calm, too focused. That sa calm exterior that always put people at ease, except she knew better. With Leonard, calm didn’t an harmless.
Then, voice quiet, Leonard asked, "Don’t you have anything to say to , Katherine?"
Katherine snorted a laugh—though there was nothing funny about it. "Funny. You’re the one who ca to , yet I’m the one expected to initiate a conversation? I’ve got nothing to say, Mr. Ford."
He leaned in slightly, his voice now lower. "How about, ’Leonard, actually, we have a child together. Two, in fact. Nathan and Maya.’ Is that really so hard to say?"
Katherine turned her head toward him slowly, eting his gaze fully for the first ti that night. Her eyes were steady, voice calm. "It’s sweet how you’ve connected the dots."
Leonard didn’t flinch. His eyes were locked on her, like he was trying to get a reaction she wasn’t giving. "Why didn’t you tell ?"
"Take a guess," she replied coolly, lifting her glass again.
"I’m not in the mood to play gas, Katherine."
"Neither am I."
They looked at each other, but anyone could feel the tension buzzing between them. Katherine could feel her pulse thudding in her throat. The nerve of him—to show up here, to talk about this in a public space, like it was so casual subject to pass the ti.
Her chair scraped slightly as she pushed it back, grabbing her phone and purse from the bar. "Enjoy your drink," she said tightly and stood.
Right as the bartender placed Leonard’s cocktail down with a small coaster, Katherine was already walking away. Her heels tapped quickly across the floor as she made her way toward the elevator at the far end of the corridor. She didn’t care if people looked. She didn’t care that she was leaving behind a half-finished drink and a man who had once split her world down the middle.
All she cared about was getting the hell away before she said sothing she couldn’t take back.
She reached the elevator and pressed the button once—then again. Then three tis in quick succession. As if sheer impatience could make the elevator descend faster. Her fingers curled and uncurled around the strap of her purse as she waited, chest rising and falling in tight, shallow breaths.
The door finally dinged and slid open. Katherine stepped in with urgent relief and jabbed the ’close door’ button imdiately.
But the doors didn’t close.
Soone slipped a hand between the doors, pushing them apart. Leonard strolled in like he had all the ti in the world. His expression had changed—no longer smug or teasing, but sothing darker, more unreadable.
Katherine’s spine straightened instinctively. "Seriously?" she hissed.
Leonard stood in front of the control panel, one hand resting on the doorfra like he owned the mont.
"Why are you in such a hurry?" he said, voice smooth but low. "The night’s still long for us, after all."
Reviews
All reviews (0)