But the internet didn’t need suspicious.
It needed a sentence it could bend.
“That’s where we were staying,” I said.
“I know,” she replied. “Which is why it’s not getting traction as a scandal. It reads like someone trying to make a normal sighting sound interesting.”
“Does Jace know?”
“I texted him not to engage with anything today.”
“Will he listen?”
Tessa gave me the look that question deserved.
“Right,” I said.
“I’ll tell Roman to keep an eye on him if it gets louder.”
That comforted me more than it should have.
Tessa tucked the tablet under her arm. “For what it’s worth, Vanessa handled it well. No subtweets. No vague captions. No dramatic airport selfie.”
“She’s not stupid.”
“No,” Tessa said. “She isn’t.”
There was weight in the way she said it. Not accusation exactly. More like a reminder that the women in this weren’t props we could step around without bruising them.
Her gaze flicked toward the tunnel. “Jace looks better today.”
I didn’t answer.
“Not fine,” she added. “Better.”
“He had a hard night.”
“I assumed.”
Of course she had.
Tessa Moreno never asked questions she couldn’t answer herself. She also didn’t waste warnings. If she was standing here saying any of this to me, she wanted me aware without forcing either of us to name what she suspected.
“I’ll monitor the comments,” she said. “You monitor your room.”
“My room is fine.”
“Your room contains Milo Danvers, who tried to microwave a foil packet of electrolyte chews last week.”
“That was handled.”
“By the smoke alarm.”
“Tessa.”
Her smile was small and unbothered. “Just doing my job.”
She walked away before I could decide whether I’d been warned, protected, or both.
