Page 31 of The Billionaire's Wife

“Like I wasn’t going there already.” I huffed under my breath. I squeezed the steering wheel, considering my options. I could sit through the turn arrow, then swing into the straight lane and...and what? I needed information. And knowing Tristan, he’d just follow me and be angry about it. Because apparently now that he’d decided to chase me down, he was serious about it.

The light changed before I made up my mind. Tristan laid on his horn a little longer than necessary.

I made the turn and pulled into the parking lot in front of the convenience store. I slammed the shifter into Park and cut the engine, then wrenched open the door and climbed out. I leaned against my car, arms crossed, and waited.

Tristan pulled his much nicer car into the spot beside me and got out. He looked at me over the hood of his car, head tilted to the side. “Hey.”

“Really? You’re going with a breezy ‘hey’ like you didn’t just accost me in a near road rage incident?”

To my utter amazement, he laughed.

“I’m not the one with road rage. The Mazda that cut you off might have it, though.”

My lips twitched. Darn it, I wasn’t going to smile. Or act like this was all normal and not a big deal. “What are you doing, Tristan?”

“Helping you. Like you asked.” He crossed his arms on the top of his car and leaned. “Or do you have it all under control?”

I wanted to protest that yes, I certainly did. But he’d been there and seen Manny with his gorilla hand on my arm. “You don’t want to help me, remember? You want a divorce.”

He flinched.

Where had those words come from? They weren’t the issue here. They couldn’t be. Not with the Ortegas on my tail. “Forget I said that.”

“Kind of hard to do.”

My eyebrows lifted. “I’m not the one who had papers just sitting around in his apartment.”

“Uh-huh. You’re also not the one who got walked out on. Twice.”

It was my turn to flinch. I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay. Peace. All right?”

He nodded slowly. “I didn’t realize you knew how to sing.” He mimed an elbow to the solar plexus, stomped his foot down, and threw his head back like he was smashing someone’s nose in the self-defense moves that used the SING mnemonic.

My lips twitched. “I forgot the N. But I’ve always loved Miss Congeniality, you know that.”

“I do.”

I wanted to groan. Why did he have to say those words? And say them that way? Looking at me steadily with those eyes that I’d always gotten lost in. “Tristan…”

“Let me help you, Faith. Please? Stay and let me help you.”

Something in his voice was so vulnerable that my throat tightened. I wanted to object and declare that I’d be just fine all on my own. I wasn’t positive that was actually reality though. Beyond that? I didn’t want to leave Tristan.

Stupid.

He wanted a divorce. That was the right way to go. The delusional little voice in the back of my mind that said there was a way to make things work between us was, well, delusional.

I sighed. Even with all that, I still needed help. “Do you think you can? Really?”

“I do.”

Was he doing it on purpose? Those two words were little barbs in my heart every time he said them. Totally unfair! I wasn’t the one who’d put the divorce papers together. I’d just run off and disappeared. So yeah, totally not innocent here. I got that. “Manny knows who you are now.”

“Manny?” Tristan looked perplexed. “Oh. The guy on the street? I don’t think so. He knows someone called out, but I have no reason to believe he can figure out who I am.”

I shook my head. “Don’t underestimate these people, Tristan. If he got a photo of you or your license plate, it’s a matter of time before they show up at your condo. Your office. Your friends’ houses. You get the idea.”

“I’ll let everyone know to be cautious. None of that changes the fact that I want to help you get out from under this and be free to have a life.”

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