Page 81 of Heartless Vows

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Achilles, I need to bring Tristan home early. My family—”

My heart rate spikes and adrenaline floods my veins as his voice breaks. I toss my bag over my shoulder and slip my feet into my shoes as I answer.

“How soon will you drop him off?”

“We’re pulling into the drive now. I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t an emergency.”

“I know, Mr. Hearthright. It’s okay. Tell him to go straight to his room. I’ll be home in five minutes.”

“Of course, Ms. Achilles. I’m terribly sorry.”

I end the call and rush down the stairs to the garage. The seat, steering wheel, and pedals take an agonizingly long time to adjust, so by the time I open the garage door and shift into reverse, urgency pulses behind my sternum.

I’ve only driven a handful of times beyond earning my license, but I match the aggression of the city drivers around me and make it home faster than I thought possible. I park near the front door and send Giorgio a text as I rush into the house. With every step I take, dread builds in my chest, so when my mother doesn’t greet me at the door, I sprint up the stairs.

I swing open Tristan’s bedroom door and breathe a sigh of relief when he looks up from his phone. He cocks his head. I plop down on the bed beside him.

“You okay? Did mamma see you come home?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“I haven’t seen anyone since I got back. No one. Not even the chef. Man, it sucks about Mr. Hearthright’s family. I wanted to go to the internet café and see my friends,” he whines.

I check the time on my phone. My text to Giorgio remains unread.

“I’ll take you. Let’s go,” I say.

Even as Tristan hoots with excitement, my unease grows. I tuck my phone back into my purse and stand as he gathers the things he scattered all over the floor and shoves them back into his bag.

“Actually, I was in too much of a rush to get back to ask. What happened to Mr. Hearthright’s family?” I ask.

“He got a call from the hospital because they were in a car accident. I think they were all badly hurt. He looked scared.”

I wait until he zips his bag and stands before I give him a hug.

“That must’ve been scary for you, too,” I say.

After a quick squeeze, he pushes me away and shrugs.

“I gotta pee, then I’m ready,” he declares.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you in the hall. Which café were you going to? I’ll put it in my GPS.”

“Are you driving?”

His skepticism doesn’t bother me. The streets of New York City are terrifying.

“Well, we’re not taking a cab or the subway, and asking a driver means we have to get permission from mamma, but I have a car, so…”

I dangle the fob from my finger.

He smiles and bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Then let’s go!”

When he heads for the door instead of the bathroom, I chuckle and step in front of him.

“Go pee first, you numbskull. Which café?” I ask.

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