Shit. No. Why the fuck is she here?
I shove my shirt down as Tristan steps back, his eyes darting around.
I hop off the counter, trying to catch my breath, but it’s like someone’s tossed an icy bucket of water over me. I can’t think. My mind’s still in a fog as I try to bring myself back to Earth.
“The basement?” he asks.
But it’s too late.
Mom unlocks the door and pushes it wide open. Her heels clack along the floor.
We’re trapped in the kitchen as she moves closer and rounds into the room. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me in a tank top and pajama shorts with Cookie Monster on them. My hair’s an unbrushed, rumpled mess, and a man she’s never met is here. His T-shirt is a wrinkled disaster, with distinctive dents where my fingers were just a second ago.
“Daphne?” Mom’s eyebrow rises in judgmental distaste. “I didn’t know you’d have company.”
“That’s why most people have the decency to call first.”
Her perfectly laminated eyebrow raises. “I need to call to come visit my daughter? In the house that I pay half her rent to live in?”
“Yes, you need to call to visit,” I say.
Mom shakes her head at me. “Don’t be rude, Daphne. Introduce me to yourfriend.” She sneers at the word. It’s her Southern Belle way of suggesting Tristan’s a fuck-buddy.
“Mom, this is myboyfriend, Tristan.”Shit. How do I not know his last name?
“Tristan Sinclair, ma’am.” He holds his hand out, but Mom stiffens as if he might mug her.
“It’s Mrs. Fox,” she corrects him. “Daphne, we decided that you need to attend the next State Dinner and your father’s East Coast rallies. I’ve already given his campaign manager your contact information.”
“You did what?” Un-fucking-believable. “First, you threaten to leave me on the hook for a house you forced me to live in, so I would be close to a job you put me in, then fired me from. Now you want my help?”
“Excuse me?” Tristan chimes in. “Mrs. Fox.” Tristan imitates her tone oh-so-subtly. “This is a big conversation to have on an empty stomach. I was about to make pancakes. Would you like some?”
She shakes her head. “No, thank you. Shouldn’t you be watching your carbs, Daphne?”
“Shouldn’t you be minding your own business, Mrs. Fox?” Tristan retorts. He turns his back on my mother as he retrieves two coffee mugs from the cabinet.
My God, I never thought any man would stand up to my mother. If she weren’t here, I’d drop to my knees and thank him.
I can’t help it. My eyes flick down to his sweatpants. He’s gone soft. I can’t blame him. I think if I had a dick, hearing my mom’s voice would make it shrivel into a raisin.
“Excuse me, young man?” Mom hisses. “I don’t know who youthinkyou’re speaking to, but I will not have some lowlife messing around with my daughter and speaking to me in such a disgusting tone.”
“Lowlife?” Tristan laughs as he starts to boil a jug of water for coffee. “Mrs. Fox, since you’re so obsessed withDaphne’s weight and your husband’s votes, you clearly have an affinity for numbers.” Tristan clears his throat. “So, let me set the record straight. I know your family’s net worth to the penny. Mine is more than double yours.”
Tristan dumps coffee grounds into the French Press, his back still to her as he makes us breakfast. “There’s a reason I’m a private person who doesn’t give a fuck about what people in your lower tax bracket think. So please, have some decorum and stop throwing your money around like it’s important. I could buy this fucking house for Daphne if she asked. Hell, I could buy her the entire damn block if she wanted.” Tristan tips the boiling water into the French Press, more concerned with coffee than with wasting time looking at my mother.
Mom’s body shrinks while her eyes widen in fury. “You… you…”
I’m as speechless as Mom, mostly because I’ve never seen Mom speechless.
“You have no leverage here,” he reminds her. “If Daphne chooses to help you, it will beherchoice. You have nothing to blackmail your daughter with. Nothing to hold over her head. So, if you need her help, I suggest you choose your next words carefully if you want her to say yes.”
“Are you threatening me?” she hisses. “I can call in one of my agents and?—”
Tristan’s lip twitches like he’s hiding a smirk. We all know he’s won this battle. “I don’t threaten, ma’am. I’m simply advising you to choose your words carefully if you want your daughter’s help, because you can’t bully her into doing your bidding anymore. I can’t offer her much, but I can give her freedom from you and your husband.”
“Listen to him, Mom.” I cross my arms over my chest,and I don’t need a mirror to see my got-you-now-bitch expression.
