Hiding in the shadows of the doorway, I felt a growing unease wash over me as I observed them. Tristan, wholly absorbed in the moment, poured steaming coffee into her cup, his gestures intimate, like they were sharing a secret between lovers. His fingers brushed against hers, lingering just a heartbeat too long, and a touch infused with so much tenderness.
Danger was patient, taking its time to reveal its true face, which could be both commanding and cruel, and I needed to know if Ellie understood the stakes she had stepped into.
Later that morning, I summoned her to my study. It was just us, no Tristan, no Sophia.
"Ellie," I said, my voice steady as she entered, her eyes a mix of nerves and resolve. "I know you care for my son, and I'm grateful for that. Marie also informed me that you've endured quite a bit for him, and from here, I can understand your feelings for Tristan, but mere feelings aren't enough, Ellie. To integrate into this family and our business, you need more than just feelings."
Her fists clenched at her sides, yet she held my gaze with surprising bravery. I had to commend her because very few could meet my eyes without showing fear in their stance.
I slid a file across the desk, a seemingly innocuous folder, yet heavy with the weight of its contents. Inside lay a schedule, an itinerary of Donovan's business meetings, coded notes on suppliers and distribution. Nothing outright incriminating, but just enough to hint at the intricate web of our world.
"Now, tell me what you see and understand from this information."
A flicker of confusion crossed her face, quickly masked by hesitation. I leaned back in my chair, studying her closely as I sought the flickers of her expression. This wasn't just a knowledge test but a trial of her instincts. Would she ask the right questions, or would she fold under unspoken pressure?
Part of me wanted to see her falter, to unravel at the revelation of the world that shaped our lives.
-
The folder felt impossibly heavy in my hands, anxiety coursing through me as I turned its pages. Each line, each cryptic mark and unforgiving number belonged to a world Tristan had shared with me in hushed whispers and stolen moments.
Taking a deep breath, I realised this meeting wasn't a coincidence. It was a trial to gauge whether I would stand firm or crumble in the face of severity.
I raised my gaze to Edward Donovan, the man whose empire loomed over us like an impending storm, and he studied me like a hawk watching its prey, waiting for the slightest misstep.
My mind raced with questions: What did Tristan want me to do, and what would Sophia advise in this moment?
I steadied my voice, even as my heart drummed wildly against my ribs. "I can see patterns, movements that indicate coordination and these schedules were linked and can't be disrupted."
Edward's eyes narrowed, dissecting my response. Was he approving, or simply amused? I couldn't tell.
"But I also see," I hesitated, feeling the weight of his scrutiny pressing down, "an immense responsibility where countless lives are at stake."
Once again, a tense silence settled between us, thick and charged with unspoken implications.
Then Edward leaned forward, steepling his fingers with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Responsibility isn't romantic, Miss Everett. It's devoid of tenderness and demands sacrifice. Knowing this, do you still believe you can stand beside my son?"
Every instinct screamed at me to retreat, to break under his pressure, but I held my ground. "Yes," I replied firmly. "I believe I can stand beside him because it's not only about being by his side, but I want to bear this weight together with him."
Edward's lips thinned into a tight line, and I sensed he was caught between disapproval and something deeper, something I couldn't quite grasp. Was it respect or perhaps a crack in the armour he had so carefully constructed?