Page 74 of Lust
“Don’t worry about me, Angel. I’ll be fine.”
“And what if they don’t agree and still want to tear the building down?”
“Then I’ll ask them to cut their losses and sell all the plots to me instead of further sinking their reputation.”
Did I hear him right?
The lot for the shelter alone was in millions. If Tris bought all the surrounding plots, we were looking at tens of millions of dollars.
Tris was rich. Filthy rich. But transactions in the upwards of millions could only be sanctioned by the lawyers who maintained the Marcolf family trust. This wasn’t the run-of-the-mill favor. Tris would have to bend over backward to make this happen.
I couldn’t refuse his offer to set up a meeting. Not when so many families would still have a place to call home. But I was aware of the sacrifice he was making to help them. Tris was risking his career and a war with the same people who funded him.
For the first time in so long, I didn’t find myself filled with reproach. If anything, my heart pitter-pattered at his selflessness, chest burning at the act of generosity. Despite what he did to Tobias and me, I was overcome with emotions. My lips parted, unable to find the right words to express my gratitude. “Thank you, Tris. That’s very generous.”
“And I also want to take over the costs for the shelter.” He glanced at me. “The place obviously needs more upkeep and extra staff. We should also renovate the basement to add more apartments. That should ease the overcrowding.”
I didn’t know how to react. Tristan had changed his tune immensely after threatening to run the place to the ground.
“We can discuss the remaining details at length over dinner.”
I hesitantly glanced at my interlaced hands, suddenly wondering if his atrocious crime could truly have been a mistake. An awful mistake. If so, I couldn’t deny Tristan was going to immense lengths to make things right.
I further faltered when his Aston Martin came to a halt in front of a familiar Italian restaurant, infamously known to be equal parts fancy and romantic. I had once mentioned it’d be the perfect date night spot. The words had passed my lips so long ago that I forgot about it, and yet,he remembered.
Before I could get my bearings, Tristan parked his car and rounded it to hold open the passenger side door for me.
What the hell?
Tristan didn’t open doors, nor did he cater to women. The seemingly minute act was one he had never performed, not even for his own mother.
I managed to step out of the car unruffled but jumped when he unprecedentedly grabbed my hand. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea what people will say if they see us holding hands?” I turned around to inspect our surroundings. Although thinly-veiled—owed to the mere fact that we were at too romantic of a restaurant for a platonic rendezvous—appearances had to be kept up for the outside world.
“They’ll say we look good together,” he replied simply.
Tris pushed me forward with a hand on the small of my back. We didn’t walk through the front doors of the restaurant but rather through a side entrance and were promptly greeted by a young hostess awaiting our arrival.
She gasped upon catching sight of Tristan. I would have camouflaged what’s between us in the off chance the hostess recognized a congressman or knew a reporter, but I needn’t bother. I was the least of her concerns as she swooned over Tris while he addressed her in perfect Italian.
She professionally wised up and motioned for us to follow, the dreamy gaze persisting. I absentmindedly studied the interiors and modern decorations as she led us to a private room that screamed romance with its soft lighting and the soothing sounds of a water fountain. Tristan guided me to the table set for two in the center, just as the hostess placed our menus in front.
I blinked when he pulled out a chair for me.
The distinct gestures—a private room at a fancy restaurant paired with chivalry—carried significant weight. Tris didn’t indulge women, and I had no idea how to process these romantic indications.
The sudden shift baffled me, but the stranger in the room prevented any further interrogations. After Tris slid my chair forward, I pretended to intently study the menu for our hostess’ benefit. It was the classic sign that her presence was no longer required, and we needed a minute.
She merely hovered, too distracted with salivating over Tristan to catch my drift.
She is so damn obvious,I mentally griped.
By now, I should have been desensitized to the reaction Tristan brought forth in women. I had no idea why I was exceedingly bothered by it today when this had supposedly been normalized throughout my life.
Perhaps the leering and the blatant disregard for my presence proved offensive for my taste. For all she knew, I was his date, not his sister. But she had decided that someone like me couldn’t possibly be with a demi-god like Tristan.
Tris took the seat across, gaze shifting between the hostess and me. “Everything okay, Angel?”
“Fine,” I muttered sulkily.Why won’t she leave? Make her leave.
