“You sure about going out?” Tristan asks.
“Are you trying to lock me in a cage?”
His brows quirk down, his shoulders tensing. “No. I’m not. . .” He runs a hand over his shaved hair. “It’s. . .”
My breath stills when he takes a step forward. The closest we’ve gotten lately is when we hang out in the living room, watchingLove Island.
His softer voice makes my belly swoop. His whole body seems to melt into me despite his feet never moving an inch closer. His brown eyes are nothing but chocolate.
“I don’t want that asshole to upset you again.”
The back of my neck heats.
“I-it’s fine.” The whole point of tonight is partly so Hadrian and I can get over our last interaction. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
“His family and my family are complete opposites, is all.”
The harsh divide of socio-economics.
Tristan never talks about his family, at least not directly. It’s just tidbits I get when he has to take phone calls. It doesn’t seem like a good time to be nosy.
“Hadrian has always treated me decently,” I admit. Tristan lifts an eyebrow. “When he’s not being a massive arsehole.”
Tristan checks the time on his phone. “I’ve got to head out. Text me if you need anything. Adeline just arrived.”
Butterflies burst in my stomach. I’ve never been nervous having people over, but Adeline is pretty, and admittedly I’ve not been feeling great about myself lately.
But I ignore those thoughts, focusing on something else instead. Tristan is almost to the door when my hand skims over his arm.
Tristan glances down at where I touch him before looking at me. A second goes by. Then another one.
“Luis is good at his job,” I tell Tristan. “You should trust him.”
His brow knits together. It’s thoughtful rather than grumpy.
“You’re hard on him, but he’s good at his job, Tris. He’s got me tonight. It’s going to be okay.”
His chest lifts with a breath, but there’s not a chance to respond. There’s movement on the other side of the door. At six stories, my building is a far cry from Russet’s penthouse.
Adeline knocks and then tumbles forward, not expecting the door to open so quickly.
She did not lie about bringing options.
Luis is behind her, his arms full.
“Bedroom’s down the hall,” Tristan tells them, opening the door wider to let him pass. “Ads.”
“Mr. Grumpy Bodyguard,” she greets back. She’s already wearing a berry lipstick.
Luis slides back through, saluting Adeline, who thankshim profusely. Tristan holds the door open for him and then, with one last glance at me, leaves.
“Well,” Adeline states after the door shuts. “Did I interrupt something, because whatever that was seemed kind of heated.”
She’s got to be joking, right?
“Oh, the tortured glances are a dead giveaway,” Adeline explains. “Yeah, there’s definitely something between you two. Um, what’s with the spoon?”
I loosen my grip around the utensil. “Russet sent some stuff.”
