“Noah’s son should be here any moment,” my father said.
“You’ll have a joyous time keeping him in check,” Noah laughed—and my father laughed too. “He’s what you might call... self-made. In the worst possible sense. Stubborn doesn’t begin to describe him. He keeps to himself, gives the cold shoulder... but when he gets mad...” He trailed off with a sinister chuckle. “Good luck.”
I froze.Oh God.All this talk from my father about a job, an internship, but then that call I’d overheard where he spoke about me keeping someone in check—it was my worst nightmare come true. Hewashanding me over to some man!
No, no, no, I thought, my brain spinning in dizzy circles. This couldn’t be happening. I’d dreaded something like this for years as he paraded me about, as the men’s sexual comments became more overt, more direct. But I’d told myself it could never happen, would never happen, that my father was too protective of me to ever let something like this take place.
I was wrong.He wasn’t protective. He was looking for the right business deal to make it worth his while.
My breath caught in my throat. My smile had vanished, I knew. If anyone were looking at me, I was sure they’d see a mad young woman on the verge of cracking, panic flooding her face.
I had to get out of here, get out of this party and away from this life.
I had to find—
“Ah,” said Noah, looking past me. “There he is now.Son!I have someone I’d like you to meet.”
The crowd parted as someone moved through. I turned, body tense, the world almost in slow-motion as the suits shifted and moved, giving way to—
Him. The hair, the shoulders, the jaw already clenched—it was Tristian.
My heart did a violent somersault. What washedoing here? He looked livid, every muscle in him wound tight.
Tristian stalked over, a steely, hateful gaze fixed on his father. He hadn’t even seen me yet, he was so focused on Noah.
As he drew close, I understood. Side by side, I knew exactly why there was something familiar about Mr. Locke. The resemblance was unmistakable. The jawline. The eyes. He was Tristian’s father.
“Hello, son,” said Noah to Tristian, who looked like he was about to bite off a slew of curse words back at him. “I have some guests I’d like you to meet,” he said. “This is Samuel Rodriguez—”
My father stepped in to shake. Tristian gripped his hand briefly, but tight, knuckles whitening.
“And this is his daughter, Ingrid. She’ll be keeping an eye on you for a while.”
For the first time, Tristian’s gaze fell upon me.
His face went white as if he’d seen a ghost. Chaos reigned behind his eyes: confusion, hurt, anger, betrayal. I stared back, wide-eyed and pale. We were both dumbstruck.
Noah laughed. “When you said your daughter was a knockout, Samuel, I didn’t think you meant literally. Tristian, get your jaw off the floor and introduce yourself!”
Tristian’s jaw ground. It hadn’t dropped at all. Instead, the tendons had tightened, pulling it in so his teeth clenched and cables in his neck stood out. But at his father’s goading, he stuck out a hand.
“Tristian,” he said stiffly.
I took it. Swallowed against the hard lump in my throat. “Ingrid.”
“That’s better,” said Noah. He appraised the both of us, then turned to Samuel. “Let’s allow these two some time to introduce themselves without us overshadowing them, shall we? Discuss a little business at the bar. There’s a very nice Ramos Pinto port I think you’ll like.”
They filed away, though not before my father shot a dark look at me. If Noah had missed how shellshocked we were, my father didn’t seem to have. He didn’t know the whole story though, didn’t know that Tristian and I were familiar already, that Tristian had crept into my thoughts and didn’t seem to want to leave. My father simply thought I was in danger of letting him down—and that look was a warning to be on my best behavior, to do what he wanted, like I was supposed to.
As soon as they were gone, Tristian turned a glare to me.
“So,” he said, voice low and venomous, “this is what you’ve been doing?”
I shied back, heart fluttering. Tristian’s rage had never been directed at me before, and now it came out at full strength. He loomed over, bearing down like my father did. Only I didn’t feel fear; I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to—
“I... I don’t know what you mean,” I stammered.
“Oh, don’t play dumb.” His voice cut through me. “You’ve been cozying up to me while working forhim.While preparing to handle me like some assignment. You led me on, made me think I could trust you, when all you were doing was playing a part.”
