"What about something else food-related?" Annalise chimed in, her tone dark. "Like give him light food poisoning."
Aria and I both nearly choked at the same time, coughing into our napkins. "Light food poisoning?" I gasped for air. "How does one go about doing that?"
She shrugged, an evil glint dancing in her eyes. "I have no clue. But it'd be fun to try. He'd never see it coming." She glanced at my notebook with a nod. "You should write it down. This is a brainstorm and there are no wrong ideas."
"Maybe, I don't know," Aria said, brows furrowed as she gently wiped at her mouth, "we should stop short of landing him in the hospital."
"That's why I saidlightfood poisoning. Duh." Annalise rolled her eyes, clearly unconcerned with the ethics of it all.
Aria shot her a look. "God, I hope Max never gets on your bad side."
"He better not," Annalise replied firmly.
"He won't," I said. "That man's all about you."
She smiled softly, a once-rare expression that was becoming more and more common in recent months, enhancing her beauty. The change in her lately was all due to Max, who had his own unique way of softening her sharp edges.
The server interrupted us momentarily, refilling our waters and offering polite smiles. I took a second to glance down at my notebook, slyly attempting to keep my hand over what I'd written down. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to see this list and get the wrong idea.
When she left, we got back to business, no time to waste since we still had much to discuss before we all had to return to work soon.
"Facial cream recs that give him rashes," Annalise suggested.
"Again, hospital," Aria argued. "What about bad fashion advice? Or a boardroom full of..." She trailed off, deep in thought, her hand tracing the rim of her glass.
"Full of bulls," Annalise finished, quite unhelpfully, because who in their right mind would bring bulls into an office building?
The mention of his office jogged my memory, however, about something I really needed to discuss with them. "Have you two heard of Hawthorne Properties? That's the company that Tristan's dad heads."
They both shook their heads. "What do they do?" Annalise asked, a frown tugging at her lips.
"Urban renewal and revitalization." I did air quotes around both words as I leaned closer. "In other words, they gut entire communities, kick out people who've lived there forever, then throw up glass towers with astronomical rent that only millionaires can afford."
"Ugh," Annalise groaned, the first to react. "And Tristan works for his dad?"
"Yep, and he seems proud of it too." I couldn't help the bitterness that crept into my tone. "Like last night, the arrogant jerk told me to research him, that he had nothing to hide, that he wasn't a bad guy. But in fact... he and his dad are the definition of bad guys."
"Absolutely," Annalise agreed, while both of them nodded their heads. "Even more ammo to get revenge on the fucker."
We all took a few minutes to eat our meals, ignoring the rush of the busy lunchtime bustling around us, a few suits in a corner hashing out a deal, the faint sound of espresso machines whirring in the background.
Even though the food was amazing as always, I barely tasted it, distracted by both the conversation and thoughts of Tristan, a thrum of something passing through me—excitement mixed with dread?—whenever I imagined talking to him tonight.
He'd spoken to me with such confidence, not even a smidgeon of hesitation in his pursuit of me, but was that just a game he was playing?
"So what else did you find in your research?" Aria asked between bites, glancing up at me with curiosity.
"I looked closely at his hair and discovered it indeed seems real, no thinning, not even a hint of a receding hairline, not that there's anything wrong with balding," I added.
Annalise raised a brow. "What? What are you talking about?"
I couldn't help smiling at their confused expressions before explaining what Archie had said, making them cackle, and then filled them in on what I knew about their situation, which wasn't much. "From what I can tell, Tristan's family life ismessed up." I emphasized the words messed up because it truly seemed like a nightmare.
"How so?" Aria asked.
After a quick glance around to make sure no one was listening, I dropped my voice a little. "Well, there was a ridiculous amount of articles about his parents and their divorce. It got nasty back in the day. The dad got his mistress pregnant, they later married, and then there was another messy divorce. And that poor kid is Archie."
"Whew, poor kid," Aria muttered. "So Archie lives with Tristan?"
