Aiden stopped in his steps at a distance. His gaze flicked briefly to Bryn —a single second of cold acknowledgement —before fixing purposefully on Dafydd.
"Did you give him a good show, Tariq?" he asked evenly.
Tariq straightened at once, his lips curling. "Not yet, Sir. I was on it."
"You can't make the guest wait, Tariq," Aiden said, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. Though his words were directed to Tariq, his gaze never left Dafydd. "He has taken a flight just to come here and witness his son suffer the consequences of his audacity. We can't let him leave … dissatisfied."
Tariq's eyes gleamed with barely concealed excitement. "Don't worry, Sir. I have prepared something good. I am sure he won't leave disappointed." His glance darted toward Bryn, whose head hung limp, his body on the verge of collapse. "Shall I continue? Otherwise, we might have to wait for him to wake up."
