I don’t know what I will tell my best friend.
I don’t know how I will hide this from my family.
But what I know for sure is that I don’t want to stop. Cannot stop myself.
I never could, our connection following its course unperturbed—whether I am willing or not, that’s irrelevant, beyond my control.
8
TRISTAN
Ican’t take my eyes off her.
On the drive home, it takes an inhuman will to focus on driving and not gaze at her. I doubt I’ll ever get my fill. She enraptures me.
This is pure madness, snapping my synapses and rewiring my brain, turning me into a man desperate to fulfill her every wish.
Give her anything she desires.
The fewer people who know about us, the better. My plan is to hide her, hide us, until I have her for good.
But then she said she’d like to ride, and I brought her to the farm.
I trust my people to be discreet. Finn requires no instruction regarding silence. He is the manager of the horse farm and one of my trusted handlers, torturing people for information when I am occupied.
Under the ground lay the ashes of the people who had crossed me, of the ones I had to take down on my way up.
I took her there as if her presence could cleanse my sins.
“When can we return?” she asks, excitement ringing in her voice.
“Whenever you wish.”
Her face beams, making me want to give her the damn world. Every other success pales compared to delighting her.
Here I am seducing her, needing her to fall in love with me so that once the truth is revealed, she will forgive me. Wishful thinking.
I act this way for myself, to relish this unburdened period with her. I am selfish like that.
I doubt she’ll ever realize that while I deceive her, I show her a part of myself no one has ever been privy to. Once she knows my real identity, she won’t look at me with those bright eyes as if she can’t believe this is real—trusting me, something she shouldn’t, making me feel like shit.
The dichotomy threatens to split me apart. Wrestling with my conscience has not been something I have experienced. While I am deep in thought, a shadow passes across her eyes. Surely, she thinks about the impossibility of us.
I palm her thigh, giving it a little squeeze to comfort her. We’re not there yet, and I want nothing else to trouble her, to taint our time together.
By the time we return to the beach house, the sun has long set and she’s fast asleep, trusting me to take care of her. My chest clenches, hating that I will cause her the most hurt, that I will shatter her trust. But following my plan ensures I get her, solidifies my alliance with the Syndicate, and keeps both sides in check.
I round the car, and slip my arms under her knees and back, carrying her inside. She murmurs my name in her sleep, boosting my ego. I feel on top of the world.
Placing her down on the bed, careful not to wake her, I undress her and tuck her in.
Brushing a gentle kiss on her lips, I let her sleep. She needs rest after she exerted herself today. Quite ambitious, my woman, wanting to master the skill so we could ride together. She hurries just like me, aware there’s an expiration date. We seize every second, capture every moment, live every day to the fullest for as long as we can.
The thought alone unbalances me. Fuck, I rake a hand through my hair and tiptoe out.
Restless energy courses through me. Too pumped to sleep, I step inside my home office, pour myself some scotch, and sit down by the window, the half-moon my sole company.
Staring at the chessboard, I always picture my father across from me, the fucker smirking at me even from the grave. A surge of rage rushes through me with the desire to resurrect him just to kill him anew, let him watch me take over. The empire was crumbling under him, while it thrives under my rule.
