Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
He stares at me from the other side of the kitchen island. Tristan’s dark hair always looks slightly messy, as if he just rolled out of bed, despite how put-together he always is.
The sharp line of his jaw is striking, and I can’t help but notice how his tailored suit stretches across his broad shoulders. His intense eyes seem to see right through me, and I feel hyperaware of every detail, a fact that both frustrates and fascinates me.
I pretend not to be affected by him, but the truth is, he has affected me from day one. Even when he was only a name my father said, although it was one he said often.
At first, I was jealous of Tristan. I hadn’t met him yet, but I knew my dad was proud of him. My dad always told me he was proud of me too, but I can’t help but wonder if he would have preferred a son. He’d never say that, but that’s jealousy for you. It doesn’t allow you to think rationally. The more Tristan was in my life, the more I realized this.
I was so used to it only being my dad and me for so long. He had been a single parent from day one. I was dropped off practically on his doorstep. At least that’s what I was told. Back then, my father was still in the military. My life had been filled with military men. He’d take me to work with him and everywhere else.
That said, while I was rough and tumble when I was little, I was never one of the guys. Not that I didn’t enjoy most of the men my father trained. He always had a tight-knit unit. I was sad when he left to work for the FBI, knowing I’d miss everyone, but this career shift meant he could have a steadier schedule.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from asking Tristan what the fuck he’s staring at. I wish I could pull out my phone and play on it, but I’m not trying to draw attention to it. I’m pretty sure he’s monitoring it, as he does everything in my life. I’m not sure how we got here, but here we are, and I’m over it at this point.
That jealousy I once had for Tristan quickly turned into a crush. One that never left me, even when I wanted to punch him in the throat. That’s why I’ve let it go on for this long, but it’s coming to the end.
“I need to get going.”
“That’s great for you,” I say dryly and like I could give a shit less. Except I do, and I hate that for me.
He always has to get going. Where the hell is he going all the time? I’m stuck here. I mean, there are worse places to be stuck. I know that. There is a lot of shit I could do around this house, but everything lately is dull. I’m stuck in this loop, and I have to get out of here before I lose my mind. If I could get away, this crush and fascination I have for him might start to fade.
Tristan studies me, and I have to pretend I don’t notice.
“Do you really want to go on vacation?” The question is almost hesitant.
“Yes.” I want to go on vacation to see my best friend, Teddy. I don’t say that out loud because it’s none of his controlling-ass business.
I already have the plans set. I’m only waiting for my opening. That’s what my father taught me. Always be prepared before you jump.
I need to check Tristan’s calendar again. He normally travels often, but he’s been doing it less and less lately. I need him to go on a business trip. How I used to hate when he’d go on those and I was left here.
“Where?”
“Not with you.” I fight a smile when I see the tic in his jaw.
I don’t feel bad about giving him a hard time. Not with how things have been over the last several months. If you ask me, we’re here because of his doing, not mine. He’s the one that got all crazy and paranoid for no reason at all. I went from living a pretty independent life with my dad’s busy work schedule to being locked up in this penthouse.
“Then you’re not going.” He grabs his suit jacket off the back of his chair.
“You know I’m an adult, right?”
“Maybe in age.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“Are you finished?” he asks coldly.
“With you, yeah, I am.” Okay, that came out meaner than I meant, but it’s hard to be nice any longer. Maybe I am a brat because my subconscious wants to push him away. It’s safer that way.
“Lily.” Tristan places his hand flat on the kitchen island between us. In a way that only happens with Tristan, the air around us changes. “You need to be very careful,” he warns.