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“What? Never.” Angelina objected, but the man was already dragging her away from Tristan. As Lillian knew all too well, the gentleman had a powerful grip.
“Let me go, you filthy jerk. I don’t want a drink.”
“You can clean your dress, then. Your choice. Let’s just leave these two to get reacquainted.”
“Thanks, Brian,” Tristan nodded at the tour guide as they passed by in a flail of arms and muscles.
“Just because you’re his bodyguard doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do…” Angelina’s voice screeched and trailed off into the distance as the man hauled her away.
“Wait…he’s your bodyguard?” Lillian turned to Tristan and narrowed her gaze. “Now who’s being deceptive?
Tristan smiled, and it sent a small jolt through Lillian’s heart, igniting her talent.
“He’s the head of my security team, actually, but he pretends to be my bodyguard when he’s in the mood.”
“He’s the one who investigated me and prepared the report, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” Tristan’s voice was smooth and calm, but he narrowed his gaze, and his rising energy had Lillian shifting from one foot to the other. “As I told you before, it was the only way I could discover the truth. But let’s get back to the topic at hand, shall we. You were saying?”
“Saying?” Lillian asked.
“Earlier, about lying.” Tristan’s gaze registered impatience and something else, something that looked a lot like anticipation.
Lillian gulped when she thought about what she needed to do. The moment of truth had arrived, and she needed to pull up her big girl panties and say what she’d come here to tell him. Her throat seemed to close but she managed to squeeze the words out on a single rushed breath. “IliedwhenItoldyouIonlysleptwithyouasathankyou…IsleptwithyoubecauseIwantedto.”
“Wanted to? You mean…”
She had looked down at her feet, but now she raised her head until their eyes met, and she was looking into those familiar deep-blue irises, which seemed focused on her with laser-sharp intensity.
“I didn’t tell the truth when I said the reason I didn’t want to be with you was because I wanted healthy children. You’re a burner, Tristan. Burners can’t inherit diseases like Huntington’s.”
“They can’t?” Tristan looked stunned.
“No, they can’t. And even if if they could, my DNA is…different. If we had children, there would be an approximate fifty percent chance they’d inherit a talent like mine or some other paranormal gift.”
“A talent like yours.”
Lillian didn’t know what she expected to see in his eyes…disbelief, irritation, anger, disgust? But his expression never altered, and whatever emotion flickered in their ocean depths remained hidden. If only Tristan said something, anything, a single sentence indicating he accepted Lillian’s apology. If only he said he forgave her for lying and still cared for her. If only his silence didn’t tell her all she needed to know.
She looked past him to see a large man, standing about a foot away, his gaze on her. Wasn’t that Fred from the park? What an odd coincidence. She waved, but he didn’t acknowledge the gesture.
Tristan turned to look where she was waving. “Someone you know?”
“Yes…I mean no. But I’ve seen him before…at a park near my house.”
“Oh.”
Tristan’s face lost a bit of color, which seemed odd, but maybe her being here embarrassed him. After all, she’d drenched his fiancée in champagne then admitted she’d lied to him more than once.
She dropped her gaze. It was time to gather her tattered pride and beat a fast exit.
“I’ll go now. I wish you every happiness with….” She couldn’t bring herself to say Angelina, but managed to fling a hand in the lady’s direction, forgetting about the champagne glass she was holding. The last of its contents sloshed onto Tristan’s shirt.
She watched in horrified silence as he glanced down at the stain.
“Oh, God, Tristan. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” she stuttered, while he examined the damage with a bemused expression.
At least he didn’t seem angry. But what a disaster the evening had turned out to be.
