Summer froze for a second as she realized she had still been lying on top of him. Her body had fit perfectly against his all night, and though she would never admit it, she had felt secure in his arms. Immediately, she shifted farther away, creating more distance between them on the bed. But Tristan, though he maintained his calm exterior, instantly felt the loss of her warmth. He missed how naturally she had moulded into him, and the ache surprised him.
He shook the thought away, reminding himself to stay composed. Still, the memory of waking up with her in his arms lingered, and he silently wished if it shouldn't be the last time. For the first time in his life, he had slept so peacefully, like he belonged there, with her.
Noticing his far-off expression, Summer narrowed her eyes. "Is my bed that comfortable? Should I swap rooms as a token of thanks?"
Tristan snapped out of his thoughts, smirking as he leaned back on his elbow. "But you'd still need to pay me. Remember, you hired me as your chaperone."
Summer blinked, stunned. "What payment? What chaperone?"
Feigning disappointment, Tristan let out a dramatic sigh. "Don't tell me you forgot? Is this how you treat all your chaperones whenever you're drunk?"
Summer's eyes flared with irritation, and she instantly snapped back. "Stop spouting nonsense! You should feel lucky that you're the first guy to even come this close to me while I was drunk. Whatever, name your price, and I'll transfer it. Now leave—I don't want to see your face!"
Despite her sharp words, Tristan couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. The realization that he was the first to witness her cute, drunken antics filled him with a strange satisfaction. His heart swelled, though he kept his tone teasing. "What are you smiling for?" Summer grumbled, visibly more annoyed by his amusement. "Just name your price and get lost."
Tristan softened his gaze, his teasing fading as he reached out to gently touch her hand. "I'm sorry. I was just teasing you, but you did order me around the entire night until you fell asleep. You were quite the boss." He sighed dramatically, looking pitiful and innocent.
Summer's irritation softened, her face relaxing as she bit her lip, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry… maybe the drug was a bit too strong."
At her words, Tristan's playful demeanor shifted instantly, his expression hardening. "I tried to reach that guy, but someone took him before I could."
Summer smirked, her pride evident in the gleam of her eyes. "Don't worry, it's taken care of. You didn't think I'd let him off, did you?" Her voice was laced with confidence, but also a sense of satisfaction.
Tristan paused, admiration flashing in his eyes as he immediately realized it was her who had handled it. "Do you know who's behind that?"
"Of course," she replied casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And I plan to teach her a lesson today."
Before she could continue, Tristan interjected, his protective instincts kicking in. "I'm going with you," he said firmly. "But first, we're going to the hospital to check your arm."
Warmth flickered in Summer's chest at the concern in his voice, the way he was so intent on taking care of her. But she was used to doing things alone, handling her battles herself. "No need," she rejected, shaking her head. "I know how to take care of myself."
Tristan was about to argue further when his phone rang, cutting through the moment. His face instantly darkened as he saw the caller ID—Alex. He picked up the call, and Summer could see the tension grow in his body, his face shifting from concerned to tense, to outright furious.
When he hung up, Summer, her curiosity piqued, asked, "What's wrong?"
Tristan took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. His jaw clenched before he finally answered, his tone sharp and frustrated. "It's a situation with the company. We've hit a snag in one of our deals."
Though he tried to downplay it, the anger in his eyes betrayed how serious it was. Summer tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "Is it something you can't fix?"
Tristan scoffed, shaking his head. "Of course, there's nothing I can't fix. I just don't like delays." His voice was filled with authority, the tone of a man who wasn't used to being told "no."
Summer raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, maybe you should consider hiring a chaperone for your company too. You seem to need as much help as I did last night."
Tristan let out a dry laugh, his frustration easing as her words brought a bit of lightness back. "I don't need a chaperone," he countered. "But I could use a partner who can keep up."
Summer's smirk deepened as she leaned back, folding her arms. "You think you can keep up with me?"
Tristan leaned closer, his voice lowering, his eyes locking with hers. "I know I can."
The air between them thickened, the tension shifting from playful to something more intense, more electric. Neither of them said anything for a moment, both lost in the unspoken challenge in their gazes, the magnetic pull between them undeniable.
Finally, Summer broke the silence with a scoff, trying to downplay the effect he had on her. "I'd rather go solo."
Tristan smiled, "We'll see about that."
As the playful banter faded between them, Summer noticed that, despite Tristan's attempt at lightheartedness, a shadow lingered in his eyes. His smile didn't quite reach his face anymore, and his usual self-assured demeanor seemed strained.
Sitting up straighter, she leaned in slightly, her expression turning serious. "Alright, enough of the games. What's really going on?"
Tristan ran a hand through his hair, clearly debating whether to tell her. His jaw tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh. "It's nothing you need to worry about." He abruptly stood, his expression unreadable. "I need to fix this. You get some rest. We'll talk later."
With that, he turned to leave the room, leaving Summer alone with her thoughts, her curiosity and concern growing as the door clicked shut behind him.
The door closed softly behind Tristan, but the echo of tension lingered in the room. Summer sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of the comforter, lost in thought. Something about Tristan's demeanor had shaken her, and it wasn't just the lingering effects of the drug or the strange events from the previous night.
She had never seen him like that before—so guarded, so serious. It felt as though a wall had gone up between them in those final moments.