Page 114 of Twisted Shot
There’s a soft click, then a smooth, professional voice.
“Please hold for Mrs. Janet Eagan-Tilbury.”
Mila sits up straighter, spoon paused in mid-air.
Oh damn.
Before she can speak, the line clicks again, and the voice changes.
“Mila, darling,” comes the unmistakable, poised cadence of Theo’s mother, smooth as chilled wine.
Mila swallows the cereal down wrong and sputters, pounding her chest with a fist.
“Mrs. Eagan-Tilbury. Hi. This is…unexpected.”
“Call me Janet, please,” she says, sounding faintly amused. “How are you?”
What she wants to say is,Well, Janet, I’m currently recovering from your son rearranging my guts last night. But instead, she clears her throat and settles for, “I’m well, thank you.”
“I heard you were in Hartford, and I thought—what a perfect opportunity to connect.”
Mila blinks, holding the phone away for half a second like maybe the screen will explain what the hell is going on. Janet had not been particularly warm when they met. And she can’t be calling to trade decorating tips.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” Mila says, carefully diplomatic.
“Yes, well,” Janet replies graciously, “you and I never had the chance to talk at the gala. Such a crowded event. But I’d very much like to now. Just the two of us. Would you be willing to meet?”
Mila feels torn. Every instinct in her body is suddenly on edge. People like Janet Eagan-Tilbury don’t do casual drop-ins. They don’t “connect.” And Theo had said nothing about his mother wanting to meet Mila. That alone fills her stomach with dread.
She hesitates, lips parting, closing again. Should she ask Theo first? Warn him—or shield him entirely? The thought circles, tight and anxious, but then she remembers: the game tonight. The last thing she wants is to rattle him before he hits the ice.
Her pulse stutters as silence stretches. Then, before she can overthink it into oblivion, she hears herself say, “Sure. We can meet.”
“Wonderful,” Janet says, her voice crisp. “Where shall I come?”
Mila rattles off the name of a local café without thinking, her mind still catching up. Janet thanks her—warmly, perhaps falsely—and the line clicks dead before Mila can say anything else.
She lowers the phone slowly, the surrounding kitchen suddenly too quiet. Her cereal has gone soggy in the bowl. She picks at it absently, heart thudding.
She doesn't know why Janet wants to meet her, but it's definitely not for pleasantries. She can feel it in her bones—the same bones that went rigid the moment Janet's voice came through the phone.
And the worst part?
Theo doesn’t know this is happening.
CHAPTER 43
MILA
The café is warm, but Mila still feels a chill when she sees her.
Janet Eagan-Tilbury has already claimed her territory when Mila arrives—a prime table by the expansive picture window overlooking bustling Capitol Avenue. Her dark hair is swept back into a flawless twist, a pair of Chanel sunglasses resting beside her cup of tea.
Mila stands inside the door for a moment, tugging down the sleeves of her chunky oatmeal-colored sweater. It’s soft, cozy, and definitely not couture. She paired it with simple jeans and boots that still had dirt on the soles when she left the house. She’d agonized over what to wear, hovered in front of the mirror for too long, even considered a dress for half a second.
Then she decided she wouldn’t be putting on airs for anyone.
Mila walks over, spine straight, chin lifted. Janet looks up, and there’s a flicker of something across her sharp features—surprise, maybe, or perhaps the grudging respect of one queen recognizing another. It’s hard to tell with women like her.
