Vincent’s POV
“Follow them,” I said to my driver immediately after Aniston's car had moved from the club.
I had returned to the hospital immediately after leaving Lola, but every bit of me was just shattered. I couldn't even tell what exactly was wrong with me.
Was it that my daughter almost caught me with her friend, or the guilt that fought to swallow every bit of me? As much as she tasted so unique, like some peach, I also hated the level I had taken this—that I couldn't pull myself together.
What the heck even took me there? It's not like they wouldn't be safe without me. I could just hire secret security agents to keep an eye on them if I was that scared.
My presence there almost messed things up.
I raised my right, middle finger towards my nose, inhaling the scent of his juice
