chapter 15

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a light pat of lip stain.... a careful diffusion of curls , a peek of cleavage.....

I arrived at Lumiere Café ten minutes early, but Tristan was already there, seated by the window. The sight of him sent a wave of heat through me, despite the chilly morning.

He looked relaxed, legs crossed, his arm draped casually over the back of his chair, his dark eyes already focused on me as though he had been waiting for this moment.

I tugged my coat tighter around me, steeling myself before walking over. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I wasn’t going to let him get the upper hand so easily.

"You're early," I said, sliding into the chair across from him. His gaze didn’t waver, pinning me in place with that intense, unreadable expression.

"I prefer being prepared," he replied smoothly, his voice low, like velvet. "I like knowing what to expect."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "And here I thought you enjoyed surprises."

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured toward the cup of coffee already placed in front of me. "I took the liberty of ordering for you. Thoughtful, no?"

I glanced at the cup, my fingers wrapping around its warmth. "Very thoughtful," I replied. "Though I’m surprised, after all you didn't need to, I already paid for yours back." I sipped slowly, savoring the small taste.

Tristan's eyes glinted with amusement, though his expression remained carefully controlled. "You’re right. I don’t. But I like balance." His words were calm, almost disarming. But there was something about the way he said them, a slight edge underneath. "I always make sure the scales are even."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you left me at your penthouse? You didn’t want to tip the scales too much in my favor?"

For the first time, I saw the tiniest shift in his expression, something that might have been surprise or curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over me with renewed interest. "I didn’t realize you were expecting a personal goodbye," he said, his voice neutral but carrying an undertone of something I couldn’t quite place.

I shrugged, keeping my own voice casual. "It wasn’t about the goodbye. More about the courtesy. Leaving someone behind without a word could be seen as rude."

I lied, it indeed 'was' about the goodbye.

Tristan's lips curled into a smirk. "Is that how you see it? Rude?" He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his fingers tapping rhythmically. "Or perhaps it was intentional." his gaze settling for a moment on my peeking chest.

I took another sip, the warmth from the coffee doing little to settle the sudden chill that seemed to sweep between us. "I guess that depends on your intention."

Tristan’s gaze sharpened, his eyes locking onto mine. "Let’s just say I like to keep people guessing."

I met his stare head-on, refusing to let him rattle me. "And what happens when you guess wrong?"

He chuckled softly, though the sound held no warmth. "I rarely guess wrong, Kayla."

The way he said my fake name sent a small jolt of unease through me. He was toying with me , playing a game of control that I hadn’t anticipated. But I wasn’t about to let him see that.

"Then you must have known I wasn’t the kind of girl who needed saving," I shot back, holding his gaze steadily. "And yet, you stepped in. Was that also part of your plan?"

His smirk faded slightly, his expression turning more serious. "You didn’t seem too opposed to being saved that night."

I paused, remembering the way his arms had felt around me, strong and reassuring, pulling me away from Mr. Price. My heart skipped, but I forced myself to remain calm, keeping my voice light. "I wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse."

Tristan's eyes darkened just slightly. "I find that hard to believe."

The tension between us thickened, every word exchanged like a subtle chess move. He was watching me closely, waiting for a reaction, testing the waters to see how much he could push.

"So," he continued, his tone casual but still probing, "tell me, Kayla. What is it that you do?"

I felt my pulse quicken. This was the real test. I had to stay sharp, or risk everything. "I work in marketing," I said smoothly, keeping my tone steady. "Freelance mostly. It keeps things.... interesting."

"Interesting?," he echoed, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "I imagine you meet a lot of people. Make connections."

I nodded, refusing to let the pressure show. "It comes with the job."

"And how does someone with such a busy schedule find the time to attend charity galas?"

His question hung in the air between us, and I felt a tightening in my chest. He was poking holes, probing deeper. I had to stay composed.i hadn't even prepared for this part.

"I make time for things that matter," I replied carefully, leaning forward slightly. "And some invitations are too good to pass up."

Tristan’s smirk returned, his eyes flicking over me with a knowing glint. "I’m sure they are." He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. "And what about my invitation? Was that too good to pass up as well?"

I met his gaze, fighting the urge to fidget under the intensity of his stare. "It was.....intriguing."

"Intriguing," he repeated, his tone soft yet laced with something heavier. What was this man doing?.....He leaned forward again, his voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. "I have to admit, I didn’t expect someone like you to walk into my life so.... unexpectedly."

I raised an eyebrow. "Someone like me?"

Tristan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if studying me. "Bold. Unpredictable. You seem to have a knack for keeping things... interesting."

I gave a small laugh, though my mind raced. Every word felt like a game, like he was unraveling me bit by bit. "I could say the same about you."

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Maybe that’s why we keep running into each other."

"Or maybe.....," I countered, "it’s because you keep pulling ...the strings." I smiled , giving a lustful stare.

His smirk widened just a fraction, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t quite place. "Perhaps. But aren’t you doing the same?"

The way he said it made my breath hitch for just a second. He was pushing, prodding at my boundaries, and I could feel the weight of his words settling over me. If I wasn’t careful, he’d see through the cracks.

"I suppose we’ll find out," I said, my voice smooth despite the tension coiling in my chest.

Tristan leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "Indeed, we will."