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I could sense how tense and cold Tristan seemed to be. The moment we had turned into a large, deserted corridor, he rounded on me.
“What are you doing with him?” he demanded.
I raised my eyebrows. “We were having dinner,” I said. “Before you interrupted us.”
“He’s not good enough for you.”
I was taken aback by the reaction. I had hoped for a little jealousy, but I’d never expected this kind of uncontained anger. I couldn’t even be pleased because I was so shocked.
“He’s not?” I asked in disbelief.
“He plays the field,” Tristan blurted out. “He flits from one woman to another without a care in the world.”
“Something you have in common with him.”
My comment made him pause for only a second. “He’s too old for you; he’s too experienced, and you’re too—”
“Too what?” I demanded, starti
ng to get angry myself.
“Too…young,” Tristan said, tripping over his words. “Too inexperienced…too pure.”
I blinked at him for a moment. When I found my voice, I took a step towards him and looked him directly in the eye. “I am not a child, Tristan,” I said through gritted teeth. “I am no one’s plaything, and I certainly am not yours to be told who I should or should not be having dinner with. I am a grown woman. And I will make my own decisions. If you don’t like it, then that’s your damn problem.”
Tristan was quiet for so long that I started to feel a little uncomfortable. The coldness in his eyes ebbed a little, but I could see that he was still angry.
I shook my head at him. “I can’t believe you still see me as a child.”
He looked down, breaking the eye contact between us. “I definitely do not see you as a child,” he said softly.
The change of tone surprised me, prompting me to search his face for some clue as to the cause. His intense dark eyes were masked over, and I could barely decipher what was hidden beneath them. I felt the heat between our bodies and the tension of our exchange, and for one insane second, I thought he was going to kiss me.
And just as my body leaned in towards his, Tristan turned his back on me and walked away without so much as a word or a backward glance.
Chapter Thirteen
Tristan
I had slept fitfully the whole night, contributing to my already dark mood. I had hoped I would cool down overnight, but somehow, I felt as annoyed and angry as I had the previous night. I kept seeing Molly in her stunning silver dress, with her golden hair flung over one shoulder like some angel out of my dreams. Then I kept remembering Gregory’s smug smile as he told me that Molly just wanted to have dinner with him.
The worst thing about all of it was that Gregory was right. Molly was right. They were adults who were on a date. I had no right to impose on their dinner, and I had stepped way out of line by demanding that Molly speak to me in private right in the middle of her date with Gregory.
Unfortunately, even though I could see reason, I couldn’t seem to be calmed by it. My mind was a live wire, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Molly and Gregory.
When my phone rang, I answered without checking who it was. “Gregory?” I said aggressively.
“Um no,” Ben’s voice was slightly curious. “It’s Ben.”
“Oh,” I said. “What do you want?”
“What happened?” he asked. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today?”
“You could say that,” I muttered darkly.
“Does this have anything to do with what happened last night?”
I stopped short. Was it possible that the staff had been paying attention to the little drama I had enacted last night? I knew it was a stupid question—of course the whole restaurant would have been watching the whole thing unfold.
