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He clears his throat, but the spite is still clear in his tone, “You need to be careful. There’s going to be a lot of stuff coming out about the election, and it’s not going to be pretty. Killian Hughes isn’t the nice cop of a mayor that everyone thinks he is. His history with Carter runs deeper than some office uptown, okay?”
“What are you saying?”
I lean forward in my seat, needing to know what to expect. It’s obvious that Tristan knows more than what he’s saying to me, but I can’t decipher what it means. Is it bad? Should I prepare for another war that no one is telling me about?
“Just keep an eye on the news, okay?”
I nod against the warm screen of my phone as if he can see that motion. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.” Before he can hang up, I blurt on impulse, “Does this have to do with Lilian?”
“Excuse me? Isabella, you know I can’t talk about certain things if Carter isn’t—”
“I know, I know. But I have a feeling this is more about Carter and me and not the Blackthorne trouble. Am I at least right about that?”
He clears his throat like he’s fighting the words that dare to come tumbling out. “Well, yeah, it is. But I didn’t say that to you, okay? Lilian is troublesome, Isabella. You need to be careful when it comes to her. Just be careful what you do, okay? The election is still a firestorm in the news, and it’s not going away anytime soon. They will use any bit of information possible to bring Carter down. That includes going through you.”
“Yeah, thank you, Tristan. If you could just tell Sam I called, that would help.” I brush my hair back, tapping my fingers along the desk while an idea comes to mind. “I’m going to be at the coffee shop by the hospital, the one across the street from where my dad is. If you could ask her to meet me there in the morning, I would owe you one.”
“Of course. I can tell her, but I can’t be sure she’s going to show up.”
“I know. Just tell her that I miss my friend. Okay?”
“Can do. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Call me if you need anything.”
I hang up, feeling more defeated than I did before. What does it mean when Carter doesn’t let his right-hand man into a big family meeting? I know Tristan and I have a rocky past, and he made a pretty huge mistake that he’s paid for a few times over, but I now feel like he’s being more upfront than Carter is.
Even though the boss of the Blackthorne family told me to stop digging for answers behind his back, he never said I couldn’t ask Tristan about a few things. He’s his nearest confidant, and Carter isn’t here to field my questions. He has to deal with small divides in his family next door, and I have to figure out how to design an office building when my prior job was taking calls and ordering inventory off a list.
Either way, I want to do the job well, so I draft a few throwaway options before really digging deep into the meat of this project. It’s pretty simple. Most of the sleek design is a modified rendering of the office building they use currently, but it’s fun to get to use my new tools and create something malleable for the future.
I just hope Carter likes it.
My fingers eventually become sore, and my palms are red and sweaty as I turn them over in front of me. It’s exhausting to do this much work in one sitting, and I only have two floors done in my third draft before I decide it’s time to take a break. I’m nowhere near completion today, and I need to get another few drafts down before letting Carter see any of the designs.
I make a pot of tea, break out a bag of chips, and pull myself up onto the edge of the kitchen counter while waiting for the water to boil. My limbs are sore, and my ass is still a bit raw from my earlier punishment with Carter. He grabbed me so hard while I rode his lap that I was sure he would rip me in half.
He looked furious enough to do so, that’s for sure.
When the tea is done, I stay in my spot, eating my chips while I take in the vast size of this home. It’s still pretty empty, and I’m too indifferent to the idea to fill it with furniture that I just don’t care what it looks like anymore. It’s Carter’s doing—his vision—and I’ll let him have it.
Truthfully, if I had my way, I would pick out a modest, cozy apartment downtown for us. He’s the one with a history of large homes and a lavish upbringing.
I came from the working class, which betrayed me the minute my father fell sick.
Being from opposite worlds has never brought us apart before.
The front door swings open, and my thought process is stifled seeing Carter storm into the foyer. He throws his coat on the railing to the stairs, storming over to me so fast that I nearly flinch. I don’t think he’d ever hurt me, but the icy glare and the stoic look on his face are too impossible to ignore.
He brings his hands to my hips and yanks me forward, my arms curling around the back of his shoulders while I take his embrace in cold silence. His breathing is shallow, his body taut, and he doesn’t move or speak for what feels like ages.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I think I’m losing control of this family, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
It’s the first time he’s been so forthright with me in a while. It should relax me, but it doesn’t.
“I’m sorry, Carter. I wish I could help somehow.”
“You can help, dove. Just be here with me. I needed a break from all the bickering over there, and I wanted to see if you were sleeping yet.”
