Tristan narrowed his eyes slightly. "He's got a reputation. A playboy reputation."
Summer snickered, shaking her head in amusement. "Oh, don't worry about that," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He wouldn't dare try anything on me." Not if he values his life, she thought to herself, imagining Wayne weeping somewhere if he ever crossed her.
Back at the hotel, after they'd both showered and changed into more comfortable clothes, they settled into Summer's suite. Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his damp hair as he mulled over the events of the night.
Summer, however, wasn't about to let his lingering worry go unnoticed. She stepped closer, gently taking his hands in hers, her expression softening. "Trish," she said quietly, her voice sincere, "thank you so much for coming to rescue me. You're always there for me when I'm in danger."
Tristan's gaze softened as he looked up at her, and without a word, he gently kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment. "And I'll always be there for you, by your side," he whispered against her skin. "But next time… when you decide to go on these dangerous missions, can you at least keep me in the loop? Send me a signal or something." His voice dropped, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. "I was going nuts when I couldn't find you. And then seeing the blood…" He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. "I don't want to die from anxiety because of you."
Summer stared at him, her heart swelling at the honesty in his voice. His eyes were so clear, so open, and for the first time, she realized how deeply he cared about her. She smiled, squeezing his hands. "You know…" she began, her voice teasing, "I think my 'maybe' has officially turned into a 'yes.'"
Tristan blinked, confused for a moment. "What?"
Summer's smile widened as she leaned in closer. "Let's make this official. Let's be in a relationship. I'll take full responsibility," she said with a wink, "and obviously take full advantage of you."
Tristan's confusion melted away, replaced by a slow, warm smile. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. His lips found hers in an instant, capturing her in a deep, fiery kiss.
The kiss was intense—his lips pressing against hers with urgency, their mouths moving in perfect harmony. She responded with equal passion, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she pulled him even closer. His tongue brushed against her lips, seeking entrance, and she parted her mouth, allowing him in. Their tongues danced together, exploring, teasing, tasting.
Tristan's hands roamed her back, gripping her tightly as the kiss deepened. Summer let out a soft sigh as his teeth grazed her lower lip, nibbling gently before sucking it into his mouth. The heat between them grew with every passing second, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in the moment.
As their lips continued to move against each other, the kiss became more urgent, more intense. Tristan's hand slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further. Summer's body pressed into his, her heart racing as she matched his passion, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.
Finally, when they were both breathless, Tristan pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
The next morning, the soft hum of the Parisian café was a soothing contrast to the adrenaline-filled night they had just endured. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm, golden glow on the quaint café. Tristan and Summer sat across from each other at a small table, their breakfast laid out—croissants, fresh fruit, and two steaming cups of coffee. Everything seemed peaceful. Summer looked relaxed, savoring the calm of the moment, but Tristan had that thoughtful expression, the kind that usually signaled the approach of a loaded question.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Tristan casually wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back in his chair, his eyes on Summer. "Hey, Sam," he began, his tone deceptively light. "Do you… know Dr. Lifeath?"
Summer, mid-bite of her croissant, nearly choked. She coughed slightly, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to keep her cool. Her fingers froze for a split second before she regained her composure, casually placing the croissant down as though nothing had happened. Her eyes flickered toward Tristan, her brain racing to come up with a calm response.
"Yeah," she said slowly, forcing a smile. "I know her."
Tristan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He took a sip of his coffee, leaning forward as if he was about to uncover some deep, dark secret. "Her?" he echoed, his voice laced with curiosity. "So, Dr. Lifeath is a woman?"
Summer's heartbeat quickened again, but outwardly she remained as cool as ice. "Uh-huh," she nodded, taking a quick sip of her coffee to avoid further scrutiny.
Tristan tilted his head slightly, his curiosity now fully piqued. "How old is she?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "What's she like?"
Summer's eyebrow shot up at the rapid-fire questioning. She cleared her throat, trying to think of a way to divert the conversation. "Why are you asking your girlfriend so many questions about another woman?" she quipped, narrowing her eyes playfully as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with an air of mock suspicion. "Should I be jealous?"
Tristan let out a deep, hearty laugh, shaking his head. "No, no," he replied, still chuckling. "I'm asking purely out of curiosity. Dr. Lifeath is practically a mythical figure outside. No one knows anything about her, yet my special girlfriend knows her personally—hell, saved her life!"
Obviously I'll save my life if my life's in danger, Summer thought and rolled her eyes internally but felt her pulse quicken again, and she knew she wasn't going to escape this conversation easily. Tristan wasn't the kind of guy to just let things go if he sensed something amiss or unusual. She sighed internally, realizing that if she couldn't dodge the topic, she might as well sing her own praises—without, of course, revealing that she was the one he was talking about.
"Well…" Summer began, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned forward slightly. "She's about my age, give or take a year." She paused for dramatic effect, noticing how intently Tristan was listening. "But she's really beautiful and intelligent. Like, ridiculously smart. And kind—always helping others without asking for anything in return. She's very good to her people, super honest, and humble."
Tristan blinked, raising an eyebrow as he took in Summer's description. "Really?" he said slowly, his tone filled with doubt. "Humble, huh?"
Sam let out a frustrated huff, glaring at her phone like it had personally insulted her. "I just received last month's car race rankings," she said, her tone laced with irritation. "And this bloody dark horse has broken my record. Just because I didn't race last month due to the whole drugging incident…" She muttered under her breath, clearly peeved. "Now, that guy's gone and shattered my record. It's infuriating!"
Trish froze, his body going rigid in his seat. The mention of dark horse was like a lightning bolt through his brain. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flickering toward Sam cautiously. Did she know? How could she not know?
He cleared his throat, trying to play it off coolly. "I didn't… do anything," he began, his tone tentative, his eyes carefully watching her reaction. "I just broke Little Turtle's long-standing record…."
The moment the words left his mouth, both of their eyes widened in shock. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as they stared at each other in disbelief.
"You're Dark Horse?"
"You're Little Turtle?"
They both exclaimed at the same time, their voices overlapping in a perfect chorus of exasperation.