Page 33 of Twisted Fate

She’s proven that many times. When I got back to campus yesterday and told her about Adam, she held me while I cried about it much like the first time. I don’t know what kept the tears at bay while I was home, maybe wanting to be strong for my family, but the thought of Adam enduring cancer treatments again makes my heart feel like someone is slicing it to shreds with razors.

When it’s time to leave, my stomach twists, and my hands dampen as they shake at my sides.Get a grip. I clench my hands into fists, take a deep breath, and grab my bag before I head for the door.

“You’ve got this, Aurora.” Allison shoots me a thumbs-up from her desk.

My lips manage to form a smile as my chest loosens a fraction. “I’ll see you later.”

The streetcar ride to the Westbrook Hotel feels like hours when in reality it takes fifteen minutes. Both the hotel and campus are in the downtown core, but traffic is a bitch in the morning.

I step off with a crowd of people and shoulder my bag before I head for the building. The sound of my heels echoes against the concrete, and I focus on the repetitiveclick, click, clickto keep myself from spiraling.

The hotel lobby is as extravagant and posh as I remember it. My gaze bounces around the room. A few employees and guests walk around, chatting or watching the morning news on one of the many flat screens attached to the walls.

Someone brushes past me, scowling. “Watch it, human,” the man says.

My body tenses as I fight back a snide remark. He’s in a building full of humans. What the hell is his problem with me? How many of the fae know I’m working for Tristan?Working for Tristan. That’s a dark idea; it fries my nerves.

I straighten, gripping my bag until my knuckles turn white, put on my best pleasant-yet-professional face, and walk to the reception desk. I smile at the familiar face. It’s the same girl as the day I stormed in, demanding to see Tristan. Marisa, her name tag says. “Hi there. I’m sorry if you remember me.”

Her expression is bright, friendly. “Miss Marshall, welcome back to the Westbrook Hotel.”

“Thanks. Again, sorry about last time. Tristan, er, Mr. Westbrook, can be...”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve worked here for almost five years. I know what you’re talking about. Mr. Westbrook instructed me to send you to the office upon your arrival.”

I nod. “Right, okay.”

“Head over to the elevators. The office is on the twentieth floor,” she says.

I glance at the clock behind her and sigh. I guess it would be too childish to whine about how I don’t want to go. Pretty unprofessional, at least. “I’d better make my way there. Don’t want to be late on my first day.”

“I doubt you wanted to come at all,” she says with a little grin.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, you look like you’d prefer to swim in a pool of rattlesnakes than spend your day here.”

I grimace. “Perfect,” I say before walking away. How much does Marisa know about the man she works for?

I tap my fingers against my thighs the entire ride, glancing at myself in the mirror that covers the back wall. At the twentieth floor, I approach the office reception desk.

“Hi,” I say in the most cheerful voice I can muster.

A black-haired man in an expensive-looking suit, who can’t be much older than me, lifts his head and nods. “Good morning. Miss Marshall, I presume.”

“You presume correctly.” I try to stay pleasant.

“Wonderful,” he says, but something in his voice makes me think he feels the opposite.

I offer another smile.Keep smiling, I chant over and over in my head.

“Good morning, Miss Marshall.”

The smile drops right off my face.

I square my shoulders before turning toward the smooth, commanding sound of Tristan’s voice. Seeing him so clean and put together only reminds me of how broken he looked in that nightmare.

“You’re prompt. I appreciate that.”

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