Page 103 of Shattered By Grace

She hesitated for only a second before answering, slipping the note into her pocket and holding the rose tightly in her hand.

“Tell me, Victoria. Am I under your skin yet?” His voice was dark and indulgent, smooth as aged whiskey, with just enough bite to make her breath hitch.

Stunned and confused she said the first thing that popped into her head.

"You’d have to matter for that,” she scoffed, “I mean… I thought you were going to hand me over to your dad.”

Silence. Her chest tightened. She hadn’t meant to say that… not out loud.You idiot.

Then finally, low and calm, his voice came through. “No, Victoria.”

Her throat went dry. Damn him. Damn his voice. And damn the way she had no idea how to answer.

Before she could come up with something, anything, he spoke again, voice smooth and unwavering. “Get your ass in the house and pick out something nice. I’m taking you to dinner.”

Her pulse spiked.

“Excuse me?”

"You heard me." A pause. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The line went dead.

And just like that, she was left standing there, heart racing, staring at the phone like it had personally offended her.

The low rumble of an engine sent a pulse of warning down her spine. She was already standing by the door when the knock came. Three short raps, firm and expectant.

Victoria’s fingers tightened around the doorknob before she swung it open.

Tristan leaned against the frame like he owned it, head tilted, dark eyes dragging over her slowly. Too slowly. His gaze was smoldering, but his smirk? That infuriating, cocky half-smile that made her want to smack him and kiss him in the same breath? It was firmly in place.

Oh my god, could he get any sexier?

His voice was a slow drawl, thick with approval. “Good girl.”

Heat shot straight down her spine. She crossed her arms. “Screw you.”

Tristan’s smirk deepened. “Tempting.” Then, offering his hand like he wasn’t a whole damn problem, he added, “Ready, love?”

Victoria stared at his outstretched palm like it was a trap. Which, knowing Tristan, it was.

But still… she took it.

As Tristan’s gaze swept over her, his smirk faltered for a second, just long enough for her to notice. His eyes darkened with appreciation, and the edge of his voice softened.“Damn, love.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow, glancing down to make sure she actually had shoes on.“What?”

He held up a finger, then moved it in a slow circle, a silent command that had her spinning. Her cheeks went crimson as she gave him the full view. He never let go of her. His grip remained firm, like a reminder that he had the power to pull her back whenever he wanted.

His eyes lingered on her navy dress, the low-cut back, the bow that tied at her waist. His gaze moved up to her messy bun, the strands framing her face with effortless grace.

“You look... perfect.” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the heat behind it. “I told you to pick something nice, but you’ve gone and made it impossible to look away.”

Victoria’s breath caught, but she fought to keep her composure. “Flattery won’t get you out of whatever trouble you’re in tonight.”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping even lower as his eyes met hers. “Who says I’m in trouble, love?”

But Victoria knew better. He always was.

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