Page 96 of Velvet Corruption

I held the stare and didn’t blink. He thought he had me pinned, thought I didn’t have an answer.

Maybe I didn’t.

Maybe I didn’t fucking care.

Tristan's gaze sharpened, cutting into me like a scalpel. "Are you even fucking her?"

I stiffened. I hadn’t expected him to ask. Not like that. Not yet.

"I'm not," I cut him off, jaw tightening. "I wasn't."

Tristan’s eyes burned. "Then why the hell is she winning? Fuck, why is she still breathing? You’re an impulsive kind of guy…so…what the hell is happening?"

I tensed, the words cutting deep. It wasn’t the first time Tristan had accused me of fucking up. It wouldn’t be the last. He pushed harder; I could see it in his eyes, the way he wanted to watch me break. He was good at that. Better than he wanted to be.

I looked away, dragging my eyes over the empty walls. "Are you fucking her right now?" Tristan asked.

I ran a hand over my face, exhaling. There was no getting out of this.

It was time to tell him the truth.

“We hooked up,” I said, the words rough in my throat. “A long time ago. Before any of this.”

It was barely a whisper, but it felt like I’d fired a gun in the middle of the room.

Tristan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His entire body went still, the kind of stillness that came before something broke.

The silence between us stretched—sharp, suffocating.

Then he surged forward.

His hand fisted in my collar, yanking me so hard I had to catch my balance to keep from hitting the desk behind me. His face was inches from mine now, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

“When?” he demanded, voice a lethal whisper.

I met his stare dead-on, my hands at my sides, every inch of me locked in place. “Before any of this started. Before the campaign. Before you even saw her as a threat.”

I could feel the heat of his breath between us, his fingers still twisted in my shirt. He didn’t let go.

He wouldn’t.

“And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?” he said, his voice low and furious. “You didn’t think that might be relevant before I gave you this assignment?”

I let out a tight breath. “What did it matter? You told me to take care of her. I tried.”

“Tried?” His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing like I’d just confessed to treason. “Jesus Christ, Kieran, you should’ve fucking told me.”

He still hadn’t let go. His grip on my shirt was ironclad, knuckles bone-white, rage vibrating off him in waves.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” I said, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“It mattered!” he roared.

I barked a bitter laugh. “Why? So you could’ve put someone else on her?”

His eyes flashed. He yanked me closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Yeah, Kieran. So I could’ve put someone else on her.”

I didn’t flinch. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

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