“Tristan.” I square my shoulders.
“You know, when Ransome first said he was turning my supermodel of a cousin down for his assistant, I didn’t get it. But seeing you now… I get it.”
“What do you want?”
He studies me. Then he sucks in a breath through his grinning mouth and take a step closer.
I take a step back.
“Does he know you’re here?” he asks.
“Of course,” I lie. “He always knows where I am.”
“And he’s okay with it? With you dressed like this?” Tristan tugs at the hem of my dress.
I swallow hard as my breathing becomes more jagged.
“Our relationship has nothing to do with Jenica,” I say. “It’s deeper than that.”
“Really?” he asks, inching closer still.
“Yes. We started seeing each other before the arrangement with your uncle.”
“Funny, becauseIthink it has everything to do with him becomingpakhanin a few months.”
My mind is racing like a train with no breaks. Tristan knows. He knows the relationship is fake. He isn’t saying it, but that face says it all.
“What do you want from me?” I repeat the words, knowing how dangerous they are yet having no choice.
He backs me into the wall. “I want to know how big this gig is that your boyfriend has going on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I try to duck around him, to walk away. To run.
But Tristan grabs my arm and yanks me back.
“Except I think you do. I think you’re lying to me. Which is very,verystupid.”
After a moment that is more survival instinct than bravery, I yank my arm back.
“I don’t know anything,” I say again. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Tristan steps closer still, his mouth only inches from mine. There are people around, but no one seems to see what’s going on.
“I can see why Rozanov likes you. You’re spicy. And loyal too.”
I duck around him and head back down the hall. Then I hear him say, “Everyone’s loyalty can be broken though, Amara. Especially if someone you love is in trouble.” He chuckles. “Or, in your case, three people.”
I stop.
Then I keep walking.
He’s trying to scare you.
I repeat the words over and over in my head, forcing myself to believe them.
51
