Page 72 of The Silent Princess

How could I reject his peculiar ways when his intention is always to care for me? He gives me space and recognizes the obvious power imbalance between us, offering his neck and patience for me to set my pace, to hear the truth of who he is, and not who I imagine him to be. Tristan is a businessman. A rich, ruthless one. He’s also a devoted man. To me. Stalking my every move, digging into my family’s life, medical records, banking reports, without my consent, without authorization. Simply because he can, that should be wrong, right? Even I, twenty-two with no relationship experience, know that. Only my heart catches as I let his words sink in.

Heat settles in my lower belly, and I sense a shiver on my nape. Why am I so hot all of a sudden? I am still in my work clothes, and I realize he did remove my shoes. Hundreds of words jam behind my lips, and I sign, following my gut.

“Put the tracker in my phone.” I am pretty certain no one ever made him look this way, because a startled Tristan seems like a rare sight to see. Lips parted, head tilted, he swallows, as if he had been bracing for a refusal despite trying to hide his doubt behind his business composure. My eyes glide over his forearms, the veins thick and visible, making me want to see them move around me.

“And the second?” he says, his voice commanding, challenging me. Lava replaces my blood, and I feel bold and stronger, sensing a slight shift between us. One where the damsel in distress holds the upper hand over her savior. He stalked me… this is wrong on so many levels and yet…I would never accept that from anyone else, but with him it is different. Knowing that he is watching me is not distressing, it is reassuring. And I almost want to thank him for it, my guardian angel watching over me, protecting me despite indulging in a twisted game.

“Kiss me,” I sign, wanting to feel his touch, to know that we are all right again despite everything that happened, that when our lips collide, we are still us.

“Ella,” he murmurs, warning me as if an animal were about to burst out of him. Feral and insatiable. I point at his chest, then at my lips, making my point as I hear him exhale with difficulty. His hand slides along the side of my throat, the other on my waist, as our lips crash against each other. Gone is the softness of the kisses he granted me before. This one is made of gasoline and fire. Courage deserts me as I pull back, gasping for air. Blush colors my cheeks as I hide my eyes behind my palms.

I liked it.

No, I loved it, but…

A multitude of fireworks erupts in my mind and body, the alchemy new and loud and full of colors I did not know.

“See?” Tristan’s forehead connects with mine, his voice low and dark, breaking. “We have to pace this, Ella, or I’ll lose my mind once you give me a taste.”

He says it like the words are being wrenched out of him. My nose brushes against his, a sensation blooming in my stomach and opening a window to a world I didn't know. Gently, the tips of our noses brush together, seeking our silent language of trust and patience. Courage takes me back into his passenger seat, and I lean in, setting the pace since he refuses to rush me.

My lips meet his, and he remains stoic, like he’s trying to survive a car crash without moving. Hands running along the inside of his forearms, the skin soft and inviting, I breathe against his lips, kissing them again, first featherlight, then, when his part, with more fervor. And if it could say something, it would say, I trust you. I am right here with you. I am not going away.

Perhaps this is what Tristan needs from me too. To stop the clock from moving and just be there, right here, together. His hand rides up my jaw, possessively caressing it, while I open up, our kiss morphing into a slow and desperate plea for our bodies to reconnect after being parted in another life. We stay like that for a long time, learning a new language without rushing, tingling through every cell as I let myself wander over his chest despite his shirt. His breathing gets louder and louder as time goes by, and I get the sense that this is almost painful for him, to restrain himself around me. After a few more minutes, he leans back, just enough for me to see him sign with a wince.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart, I can’t-” his hand turn into a fist, “I’m addicted to you Ella, in a very concerning way.” I lean in again, kissing him one more time, getting my fix for the night.

“I’ll sleep if you stay next to me,” I sign.

“Here, like I told you,” he signs, pointing at the chair.

“No,” I say silently, while the tip of a grin draws at the corner of his lips. What will it be when I see him smile completely? I am not sure my heart will survive.

“Beautiful, smart, and stubborn. What am I going to do with you, Ella Brooks?” I bite my lip, having a few bold suggestions in mind that he must be perceiving from the darkening of his gaze. A yawn breaks our spell as my body gently reminds me to go back to sleep. Tomorrow will have its fair share of issues to work on, and I need rest to keep my mind clear. Deal with the move. Dad. And Mara.

“Tristan?” He tilts his head, giving me his full attention. “I see my dad every day. He will freak out if I am not there tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll send someone to check on him.”

“What will they say to him ?”

“We’ll make up something believable, so as not to alarm him. It will be okay.”

“So you’ll find who sent you the photo, take care of them, and then I’ll move with my dad into an apartment?”

“That’s the exact plan.”

“But…how? Logistically? How can I move Dad out? He can’t even walk…”

“I’ll hire people to help us, trusted ones, and we’ll find a way to get Mara and your sisters out of the house. Pretend there is an emergency meeting with them at her headquarters, anything to have the house to ourselves and get your father out.”

“Will it really be that simple?” A tick in his jaw gives way to a calm facade, one I have no doubt is his trademark for any business deal. “Like a walk in the park, princess. Quick and steady. I promise you.”

“Okay…”

“Now sleep. I’ll stay there.”

“Do you have…a large T-shirt I could borrow?”