Page 42 of Tristano

My stomach drops. I’m not ready for him to leave my sight. I don’t say that though. Instead, I suck in a breath.

“I’ll be okay.”

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he promises.

Sitting up, I look down at him. He truly is gorgeous with his messy black hair. He could have a million women, but he’s here. With me.

“I’ll be okay. You’ll come back and get me, right?”

“Of course. You’ll stay with Miya until I’m done. You won’t even leave the hotel.”

I nod. “I can do this then.”

“I’ll leave you with a phone. I’ll be only a call away. I promise.” He sits up, brushing the hair out of my face.

For a moment, I think he might kiss me.

My heart is in my throat, aching to feel his lips against mine once more. The last time was a long-ago memory that’s faded with time.

Instead, he turns, getting out of bed.

“Miya left some clothes for you in the other room. I’ll go grab them so you can take a shower. We can grab some breakfast downstairs before I take you to where they are all meeting. You have about an hour.”

“Okay,” I whisper, disappointed that he hadn’t done what I wanted.

“I’ll leave your clothes on the bed. Take your time.”

I watch as he leaves, letting the sadness overtake me.

Maybe I’m too damaged now.

I thought I made it clear that I wanted this divide gone. If that means I need to leave the force, then fuck that job. What has it ever given me really? The longer I work there, the more I realize that we are all caught up in red tape and political correctness. Day by day, it gets worse, with cameras and the media constantly criticizing us until the government is forced to cut our funds.

That moral compass we are locked into is the reason these women are being taken. We can’t even take a step toward taking them down because we need more proof.

Fuck the proof. What we need is to take action and ask questions later.

Renewed with my sense of purpose, I make my way into the bathroom. After taking a quick shower, I find a pair of leggings and a large T-shirt along with Tristano’s sweater. I smile when I pick up the T-shirt to find sensible underwear and a bra with them.

Tris must have given her my sizes because they fit me well.

Stepping from the room, I find Tristano dressed in jeans and a T-shirt himself, which is so out of character for him. I’ve never seen him without his signature suit.

Sure, I might have only seen him face-to-face twice, but I know where he works. I know what he does. I broke down and did some light stalking. It was the only way to sate my need for him over the years. In all those years, I have never seen him wear a pair of jeans.

“This is a new look.” I draw his attention to me.

He looks at me from head to toe, making my cheeks blush.

“They don’t dress the same here. You look good. How are you feeling?”

My stomach chooses that moment to grumble. “I’m hungry, I guess.”

He gives me a small smile. “Let’s get you some food then.”

I know I was here last night, but I think I was still in shock because the moment we step out of the elevator on the ground level, I am overwhelmed with flashing lights and sounds. It’s chaotic.

I hate it.

---