I had given Dom a fake name, but Tristan knows exactly who he is. Seems like he’d been watching long before he greeted us.
Fuck.
Dom’s eyes meet mine, full of silent warnings. He doesn’t trust Tristan. Neither do I.
Tristan’s lips curl into a knowing smile as if he’s read every unspoken thought between us. He’s good.
Too good.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, nodding to Dom in what I hope is a reassuring manner.
Dom remains rooted, eyes scanning the room and the screens on the table, refusing to move until I disappear through the hidden door with Tristan.
The moment the door clicks shut, a cold realization grips my stomach. This could be a trap. I’ve underestimated Tristan, and worse, I’ve brought my best friend into this tangled mess. What the hell was I thinking?
It’s too late to turn back.
But it’s never too late to strategize.
Stay sharp. You’re still in control.
CHAPTER 3
TRISTAN
Ihate liars.
Especially the ones with cold eyes who look me straight in the face and lie through their teeth without a flicker of hesitation. People like that can never be trusted. But then again, if I were in his shoes, I probably would have done the same thing.
He brought a friend, trying to prove he trusts me—trusts this partnership. But then he lied about his friend’s name. Did Aaron really think I wouldn’t be watching from the moment the limo picked them up? I have eyes everywhere.
I nod toward the empty seat in front of the grand fireplace, surrounded by fake books. “Take a seat. We don’t have a lot of time.”
I don’t offer Aaron a drink. I already know he enjoys aged whiskey, so I pour two glasses, settle into my seat across from him, and take a sip. We stare at each other in silence, the tension thick between us, both waiting for the other to speak.
It won’t be me. I’m expecting an apology.
“How much do you know?” Aaron finally asks.
“Everything.”
He exhales, a barely audible release of tension. “Well played”
I swirl the liquid in my glass, watching the light from the fire flicker against the edges of the crystal. “I could say the same about you, Mr. Jackson.”
“Call me Aaron.”
I glance up at him. “Are you going to apologize for lying to me about your friend’s name?”
“You know why I did it,” he replies, his tone sharp.
I grin. “Yes, but you should’ve been better prepared before showing up.”
Aaron sets his glass down and leans forward. “I am.”
I raise a brow, finishing my drink in one smooth motion before setting the glass aside. “Is that so? Tell me.”
“Not until you show me the paperwork.”
