Frustrated now.
“I worked my ass off for this life. I’m not about to walk around campus with some guy shadowing me like I’m?—”
“You are a target,” he says, cutting through me cleanly. “Because of me.”
Silence.
“I don’t like it either,” he adds, quieter.
And that—that surprises me.
“I’ve already had to get ahead of it,” he continues. “The information is out. My company issued a statement this morning.”
My stomach drops.
“You what?”
“I am taking time to reconnect with my daughter.”
My heart starts racing.
“The press will follow. It would be better for you to sit for an interview with me.”
I stare at him.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
I exhale slowly.
“I have a match,” I say. “I need to focus.”
He nods. “After.”
I hesitate. Then—“Okay.”
And that’s when I feel it.
I turn slightly.
Instinct.
And there—in the shadow just beyond the entryway—Tristan.
Standing under the dim overhead light.
Still.
Silent.
His fists are clenched.
Tight.
Knuckles pale.
Jaw locked so hard I can see it ticking from here.
