My heart sank. That wasn’t what I’d been doing at all!
“No! Tristian, please, I—”
“Don’t,” he growled, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit. You knew. You knew you were the one they hired to keep me ‘under control,’ didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know it was you!” My voice cracked, and I could feel the tears starting to fall. “I didn’t even know who your father was. You never told me—”
He laughed, a dry, hollow sound that broke my heart. “At least I wasn’t the one being groomed to be a handler. I’m sure you didn’t ‘mean’ to get under my skin, right? It was just part of the job.”
“Tristian, that’s not true! The other day was real!Everythingwas real!”
“Save it,” he said, turning his back on me. He walked toward the garden exit, his strides long and final. “Since you’re the one who has to keep me stable, good luck. I’m about to make your life a living hell.”
“Tristian!” I cried, but the heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. A few of the partygoers looked his way, and a couple turned scrutinizing gazes at me, now stood alone. But it was getting late. Alcohol was flowing. And I was just some girl, nothing compared to these elite men. They probably dealt with outbursts and upsets from their trophywives and daughters all the time, so this was nothing new, just some little no-nothing, naïve girl having a temper tantrum.
I stood there, shaking, my hands pressed to my mouth to stifle the noise of my heart breaking.
Footsteps approached.
I turned to see Noah and my father returning.
Noah looked at me, then at the door Tristian had just exited through, then looked at my tear-streaked face.
A slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face as he folded his hands.
“I’m assuming that went pretty well, yes?”
Chapter twelve
Tristian
The thud of my knuckles against the heavy bag was the only thing keeping me grounded. I threw another right hook, the impact vibrating up my arm and rattling my teeth, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise.
I was drowning in fury and humiliation. My father, that fucking bastard. He had actually done it.He’d put a handler on me.
And Ingrid, the woman I’d let behind my walls, the one who made me feel like I could finally breathe, was the one who took the job. She wasn’t just a girl I’d met; she was an employee. A babysitter. A spy.
I threw one more punch, a desperate, lunging strike that sent the bag spinning, and let out a jagged sigh. I was angry at her for the lie, but I was fucking livid at myself for opening up.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but there was no sanctuary there. Her face was etched into the back of my eyelids—the soft curve of her jaw, the way she looked at me like I actually mattered. She used to make me want to protect her. Now, she just made me want to burn everything down.
“Ingrid... Get out of my head,” I whispered to the empty gym.
I opened my eyes, glaring at the red leather of the bag as if it were the source of my torment. The air in the gym felt too thick to breathe. I groaned, rubbing my face, but every time I blinked, she was there.
“Get the fuck out of my head, Ingrid.”
I launched back into the bag, a frantic sequence of blows, as if I could destroy the mental image etched into my brain. It didn’t work. Each strike felt like I was hitting a ghost.
A low growl ripped from my throat.
She wasn’t going anywhere.
I ripped off my gloves, the Velcro screaming in the silence, and grabbed my hair, squeezing my eyes shut until I saw stars.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD.”
It was the same torture I’d endured nights ago, tossing and turning, unable to escape the thought of her. I didn’t want anything to do with her—Ishouldn’twant anything to do with her—and yet she clouded everything. I dropped my hands, my lungs heaving.
