“Sounds like legends that lonely shifters create to make themselves feel better. To give them hope so that they can keep on dating without feeling guilty.”
Johanna smiled. “I thought you’d say that.” She placed her fancy purse onto his desk and pulled a leather-bound padfolio. She flipped through it before dropping it beside his laptop. “See for yourself.”
York didn’t budge, still watching his mother with crossed arms. “I am not ready to replace my wife. I am never going to be ready for that.”
Johanna walked around the desk and squeezed his shoulder. “No one is asking you to replace Annalise. Lord knows she was an irreplaceable presence. You will always love her, and the right woman will understand that.”
York chortled dryly. “Johanna, though I appreciate the sentiment, what makes you think this could even happen to me? Why would fate choose me to, as you say, reboot?”
“Because you’re young,” she shrugged. “Too young to be alone for the next few hundred years. You’ve got no children, though I suppose that is a blessing.” She frowned and blinked back tears. “I’m not saying it’ll happen, York. I’m only asking you to open your heart. Be open to the possibility, and maybe one day, sometime in the future, you will meet another soul that is meant for yours. One that will understand the weight of grief you carry around.”
York pushed back from the desk as he grabbed the padfolio. He flipped through the documents Armstrong had gathered. His mother’s assistant and bodyguard had been very thorough in his research. York was shocked to see that a handful of shifters had gotten a second mate after their first mate had died.
“You’d think that instead of rebooting, fate would just fuck off and not kill people who are too young to go.” He swallowed hard before dropping the padfolio onto the desk. “Thanks for the visit, Mother. I have more work to do.”
Johanna didn’t like behind dismissed, especially not by her son. York could see it playing in her green eyes, but she was an elegant lady. Instead of raging at him, she propped up to kiss his cheek.
“I’ll be in town for a little while. Long enough to have the brownstone renovated. I’ll be staying at the Ritz in the meantime. My usual suite. I expect you over for dinner tomorrow night. Six o’clock sharp.”
“I have a meeting,” he lied.
Johanna’s nostrils flared. She knew it wasn’t true. “York Warwick, you will be in my suite for a nice family dinner. Now, have fun playing with numbers.”
Without taking back the padfolio, Johanna sauntered out of his office. York rubbed a hand across his chin, his wedding ring still glimmering on his left hand. Annalise had died a hundred years ago. Not once had he taken off the ring that had bound them in matrimony. He twisted the ring off of his finger, the inscription inside of it blinking at him.
APW & YW
Their initials weaved together. It was so faded, it made his heart ache. A lot of time had passed, nearly erasing the writing. He would bring it to a jeweler to get the ring cleaned. He’d even ask if they could trace over the engraving to salvage it. He gently placed the ring on his desk, where the gold band watched over him.
“Patricia!” he shouted to his assistant.
A lanky young woman, barely into her twenties, sauntered in on high heels. She’d topple over and sue in those death traps.
“My name is Marissa,” she corrected.
“Fine. Melanie, I want you to find me a jeweler. A good one. And please make sure you change your footwear. High heels aren’t allowed in this office. Goddamn menace.”
The assistant nodded and rushed back to her desk.
York continued mumbling to himself as he tossed the padfolio aside. His head was finally filling up with all of the responses he could have used against Johanna’s words. At least he would be prepared for their dinner. If Johanna was desperate for grandchildren, she should pester London and Beth. He was done with all of that.
There would be no more talks of mates.
At all. Ever again.
Chapter Three
Josie
Josie hadn’t set foot in the Big Apple in a very long time. Probably over five years. She had missed the bustling city. Even the stench of the sewers that hung heavy on the air of Times Square was making her nostalgic for the good old college days.
It hadn’t been that long ago, but it had been a much simpler time. Her sister had still been