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As she snuck glances at Tristan, she began to wonder about her own feelings. Had he really been so special for her? Could she have the same feelings for someone else?
Perhaps Nico?
Lila pretended to read a message while her mind slipped away. Maybe she shouldn’t swear off all men. Connell and Mòr seemed happy enough, didn’t they?
Lila returned her attention to her list, wondering if that couple ever spaced out and focused on their partners rather than work. For the brief few weeks she’d been with Tristan, she’d often work at the great house, because it had been difficult to concentrate around him.
Her mind had drifted toward sex when he’d been around.
Not sex, actually. She’d daydreamed about making love. Sex was different. Sex was the scratch of a natural bodily function, little different than eating and drinking to cure hunger and thirst. Making love consumed you. Making love satisfied you.
Making love fucked with your mind. Made you believe things you shouldn’t, even when you knew better.
Making love turned you into a fool.
Perhaps sex should be her only goal from now on. Love dulled your concentration and your senses. She had lost herself in the feeling. She’d been tempted to give up her entire world.
And for what?
For nothing. None of it had been real. The proof was right before her. She’d been a pit stop until he could return to Katia, the woman he’d always wanted, the woman he’d always trusted so completely.
The thing inside her belly taunted her, making her feel even more idiotic. Gods, what if the baby did turn out to be his? Was that why she cared so much? Was that why she couldn’t move on?
Had her hormones merely shifted?
Clearly, Tristan had nothing holding him back. He’d already moved on to the next woman. No anchor dragged him into the deep, but she could only gulp and scratch at the waves, drowning. Maybe she’d continue to drown, never able to break the surface until she got rid of the thing inside her.
Maybe it knew its father. Maybe it couldn’t let go either.
If Tristan even was the father.
Pulling out her palm, she typed a message to her doctor. I need to talk about paternity testing tomorrow.
It vibrated almost immediately, drawing Tristan’s attention.
We can do that. I’ll see you at six.
The desktop in the corner beeped as she slipped her palm back into her pocket.
Lila put down her laptop and shuffled to the back of the room, reviewing the results of the first photo. Her hunch had been correct. There really was something embedded in the pixels, but that something was gibberish.
Another code?
She let the program work on the rest of the kitten pictures sent from the account, using the same decryption algorithm on each one. Then she brought up her snoop programs and launched them at the file of gibberish.
“You’ve found something?” Tristan asked from the couch.
Lila turned her head.
The group blinked at her expectantly.
“I’m not sure yet. I won’t know for several hours. Perhaps days. Don’t disturb this computer. It’s coping with quite a lot right now.”
“That means she has.” Tristan stretched on the end of the couch. “It also means we can safely order dinner without fear of repercussions.”
Katia chuckled. “Then that is a very good thing indeed. Plum Luck?”
“Plum Luck. What do you want, Hood?”
