I push through the door to the bathroom, exhaling with relief in the momentary quiet. The marble-clad space is empty, thank God. I lean against the sink, studying my reflection in the mirror. Same face that used to be plastered across magazine covers and the internet. Slightly more lines around the eyes now. Much less patience for bullshit.
I splash water on my face, steeling myself to walk back out there. With Tristan arrived, I can finally escape Chelsea's clutches without seeming completely rude. Though part of me thinks rudeness might be warranted at this point.
I push through the bathroom door and scan the rooftop. Tristan has secured a corner table away from the main crowd. More importantly, there's no sign of Chelsea lurking nearby. I make my way over, zigzagging through clusters of people who laugh too loudly at jokes that aren't funny.
"Took you long enough," Tristan says as I slide into the chair across from him. "I thought I might need to stage a rescue mission."
"You have no idea," I sigh, settling in. "She spent fifteen minutes telling me about some restaurant where the chef massages each kale leaf individually before serving it."
"Sounds erotic," Tristan deadpans, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. It's as close to humor as he generally gets.
"No sign of Alex yet?" he asks.
I check my phone. "He just texted he's running late. Shocking."
A server materializes at our table, and I order another scotch. When she's gone, Tristan leans forward slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious.
"I met with that designer Alex recommended. Camille Montclair."
I raise my eyebrows. "And? What's your verdict?"
"She's talented. Sharp. Her design sense is exactly what the penthouse project needs." He pauses, turning his glass slowly. "But there's something else."
"Something else like what?"
"When I mentioned Alex's name, she had... a reaction." Tristan chooses his words carefully, as he always does. "Almost imperceptible, but it was there."
"What kind of reaction?" I'm intrigued now. Alex rarely recommends anyone, for anything. It’s just not the way he does things.
Tristan's blue eyes narrow slightly. "Pain, maybe. Or anger. It was gone so quickly I can't be sure. But I’m fairly certain something happened between them in Antigua."
"She's attractive, then?" I ask, already knowing the answer. Alex doesn't mix business with pleasure unless the pleasure is exceptional.
"Very." Tristan's tone is neutral, but I've known him long enough to hear what he's not saying.
I lean back in my chair, studying him. "You like her..."
"I'm considering hiring her," he corrects, not meeting my eyes. "For awork project."
"Right," I say, unconvinced. "Well, I'm meeting her next week about the community center. I'll see if I pick up the same... reaction... when I mention Alex."
Tristan nods. "She's good, Julian. Perfect for your project, actually. She immediately grasped the need for functionality without sacrificing aesthetics."
"Sounds promising. The center needs someone who understands we're building for kids who've never had a space that's truly theirs. It needs to be durable, but not institutional." I'm genuinely excited about this project—an athletic and educational facility in one of Brooklyn's most underserved neighborhoods. "I want them to walk in and feel like someone finally built something beautiful just for them."
"She'll understand that." Something in Tristan's voice makes me look up sharply. He's staring into his drink, expression unreadable.
Before I can press further, a familiar voice cuts through the ambient chatter.
"Starting without me? Poor form, gentlemen."
Alex Kingsley stands at our table, immaculate in a charcoal suit despite the late hour, his expression a careful mask of nonchalance. But something's off. There's a tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes that betrays his casual tone.
"You're late," Tristan says simply, gesturing to an empty chair.
Alex drops into the seat, immediately signaling for a server. "Board meeting ran long. You know how it is."
"Not really," I say. "My board meetings involve explaining to neighborhood kids why we can't have a swimming pool on the roof. Slightly different stakes."
