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For a second, I just enjoyed his presence, the scent of his aftershave, the scent of his salty wet skin.
The rain was pounding on the windows, a drumbeat to my racing heart as Tristan’s lips crashed against mine with a fervor that left me breathless. The storm outside raged wild and relentless, but in his arms, I found a dangerous calm—a tempest of another kind.
“Adriana,” he murmured against my mouth, his voice laced with worry as he pulled back to look at me. His blue eyes scanned over my form, taking in the soaked silk gown clinging to my skin. “You’re still freezing.”
I shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity in his gaze. It was as if he could see right through me, to all the secrets and fears tangled up inside. But still, he took care of me, his hands gentle yet commanding as he led me to the bathroom.
“Take your dress off. I’ll run you a bath,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“In the bedroom,” I replied.
He guided me there and sat on the edge of the bath as I peeled off my silk gown, which was hard.
“Let’s get you warm,” Tristan said.
It didn’t take long for the tub to be full. He helped me lie down in it. As the steam rose around me, filling the air with warmth, I let the water envelop me. It wasn’t too hot—Tristan had made sure of it, mindful of the life growing inside me. I sank deeper into the tub, trying to let the heat seep into my bones, wash away the memories of the night before.
When I emerged from the bath, the towel Tristan wrapped around me felt like a shield. He was close, his presence wrapping around me just as surely as the fabric. Then his gaze landed on something beyond me, hardening instantly. He picked up the mask that lay discarded near the edge of the bed, turning it in his hands.
“Did he knock you out to get you here?” Tristan asked, still playing with the mask.
I shook my head.
“What happened?”
I hesitated, the truth clawing its way up my throat. “My dad...he drugged me.” Saying the words out loud made them real, undeniable.
Tristan’s jaw clenched, the muscles there ticking with barely restrained fury. “He’s going to pay for this,” he promised, a deadly edge to his voice that sent a chill down my spine despite the steam still rising off my skin.
“Tristan—“ I began, but the look in his eyes stopped me. This was a side of him I knew all too well—the Callahan heir, protector, avenger. And right now, nothing else mattered to him but keeping me safe.
“What happened before?” he asked me. “Before Silvio took you.”
“Right, I need to tell you what happened,” I said, clutching the towel tighter around me as a shield against his piercing blue gaze. “After I danced with Nick Rossi, things...they got complicated.”
His expression shifted, irritation creeping in like an unwelcome guest. “Complicated how, Ade?”
I swallowed hard, knowing that every detail mattered. “I tried to leave, to get away from Nick, but then I stumbled upon Liam and Kieran talking. They didn’t see me, but...” My voice trailed off as I remembered the gravity of the words that had reached my ears.
“Go on,” Tristan urged, his tone softer now, but his eyes still sharp as ice.
“I overheard something about my dad. He was saying something about me and Nick Rossi and...” The simplicity of the conversation didn’t match the weight of the information, but Tristan needed to know everything.
A shadow crossed Tristan’s face, his annoyance palpable like the rolling thunder of an early morning storm. “Why didn’t you come straight to me, Adriana? Why did you decide to leave the venue of all things?”
“I didn’t leave the venue, I just needed to get away from him,” I told him.
“Okay. Why?”
“Nick threatened me,” I admitted, feeling the fear rise again at the memory. “He said if I told you, bullets would fly. I couldn’t—I didn’t want to start a war, not with your children inside of me.”
Tristan’s hands curled into fists, the rage barely contained within him. “Adriana, you should’ve trusted me to handle it. You’re right, you’re not just anyone; you’re the mother of my unborn children. You can’t take these risks.”
His words were a reprimand, but his touch was gentle as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead. His concern was as clear as the worry lines etched around his eyes, and I knew that despite his anger, he wanted nothing more than to keep me safe.
Then he slid his hand down my arm and grabbed me. Tristan’s grip was steel around my wrist as he led me to the bed, his piercing blue eyes dark with something that wasn’t just anger. It was fear too, a deep, consuming terror of losing what was his—us, our future.
“Ade,” he said, his voice firm and cold, pressing me down onto the soft sheets. “You can’t pull stunts like this. You’ve got to think about more than yourself now.”
