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“I suppose it would make it easier when one of you decides to walk away,” Tristan says, still looking at me. “No hard feelings and all that.”
“I’m sure neither of us is thinking of walking away.” Matt smiles fondly in my direction and I feel guilty all over again.
“Of course.” Tristan flicks one hand dismissively. “That was just a hypothetical. You’d only walk away if things weren’t working. Am I right, Cora?”
“When it’s clear that things aren’t working,” I say slowly. “Walking away is the only choice.”
Tristan seems to consider what I said. “And when only one half of the relationship makes that determination…with no warning…” He pauses, and his eyes are like icicles tearing into the tender flesh of my heart.
I swallow hard. “I’m sure it’s usually much more complicated.”
“Or quite simple,” Tristan disagrees, then laughs softly, as if dismissing the entire topic. “Celine would walk away if any man so much as said a word she didn’t like. She’s merciless.”
Celine responds with an elegant laugh and I feel a bitter taste in the back of my throat.
“We all get what we deserve, I guess.”
Tristan’s jaw tightens. “I guess some people deserve loyalty and others, betrayal.
What on earth is he’s talking about? If anyone has a right to talk about betrayal, it’s not him. A waiter arrives with more wine, and I gulp copious amounts of the full-bodied red, all the while trying to ignore the inescapable vortex that is Tristan’s presence. Soon I give up and get up from the table, pushing my chair back gracelessly as I grab my purse.
“Leaving?” Tristan’s voice is mocking.
Matt looks up at me, as if considering that I might leave without him.
“I’m going to the ladies,” I say with a tight smile before stalking away.
Inside the brightly lit privacy of the ladies’ restroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and try to compose myself.
I should leave.
I can easily think up an explanation that would satisfy Matt, but I don’t want to give Tristan the satisfaction.
God, I hate him so much.
Why did Matt have to be so eager to spend the evening talking with Tristan?
What does Tristan want now, after all this time?
After spending much too long trying to calm myself, then aggravating myself with more thoughts about Tristan, I emerge into the carpeted hallway to find the object of my ire waiting for me.
Tristan.
Leaning casually on the wall, his long legs crossed, his demeanor like it’s perfectly natural for him to be right there waiting for me.
The soft lighting of the hallway illuminates his face but is swallowed up by his dark hair and clothing. His breathtaking features look almost unholy, darkly handsome, menacingly attractive. Behind him, the cream wallpaper is like a backdrop for an exotic photoshoot, the gold patterns embossed in the wall covering seeming to come to life around his imposing form.
There was always something compelling about him, and now that he’s one of the most successful innovators in the world, it’s even more stark, more brutally obvious. He wears his success, his desirability like an aura, unimportant and meaningless to him, unavoidable and lust-inducing to everyone else.
I swallow a thick lump in my throat. With him so close, I want to forget everything that has happened between us. I want to pretend there’s no reason in the world for me not to smile at him, flirt with him, try to charm him with the hope that his perfection could be mine even if only for one night.
“You’re stalking me all the way to the bathroom now?” My voice is thick and husky with a combination of pain and desire.
He looks amused as he pushes off the wall, his form lithe and graceful, like a jungle cat. “Maybe I am,” he says carelessly. “Or coincidence has been working in my favor lately.”
“In your favor?” I snort. “Is it really in your favor for you to be here right now with your unremarkable, insignificant ex, instead of...I don’t know...conquering the world?”
One corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny half-smile. “You’re neither unremarkable nor insignificant,” he murmurs.
