Page 133 of Wait For It

I pulled away from the fantasy in my mind with a distracted nod. Love was sacrifice, just not in the way he believed. It was a willingness to throw yourself on the sword to save another.

Just like Killian had wanted to do for me.

Just like I was trying to do now.

Love with stipulations wasn’t love. It was an acknowledgment between opposing parties, a list of conditions one side was expected to satisfy for the other.

There was a soft knock at the door, and I glanced up to see that it was time. Tristan had just taken my hand when I was struck by a sudden thought.

A stipulation of my own.

“Wait,” I whispered, taking a step back.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? Do you need some water?” His concern almost sounded genuine.

I held the speech up with trembling fingers. “Tell me how you did it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I said, my voice strangled. “You want me to lie for you, the least you can do is give me the truth about my accident. How did you control the car, Tristan?”

“Just give us a minute,” he called out to the person on the other side of the door before approaching me with his arms crossed over his chest. “I have no idea what you’re—”

“Bullshit,” I hissed, ignoring the beads of sweat clinging to the nape of my neck. “The first time the lights flashed, I thought something had crossed in front of the convertible. Then the radio began changing stations, and the volume got louder. When I punched the brakes, the car accelerated. So, tell me the truth—and remember, your sacrifice will be rewarded.”

I watched as the color drained from his face, confirming my hunch that my recurring nightmares had been fractured memories from the night of the crash.

Tristan’s strength had always come from his ability to strip a person of everything they loved. But in doing so, he’d created a monster. One who would become his greatest horror, because I no longer had anything left to lose.

“And if I refuse?” He loomed over me with a grin, cracking his knuckles in a silent reminder of what he was capable of doing.

“I’d advise you against making such a hasty decision,” I stated, repeating the same words he’d used with me. “Considering I’ve already agreed to tell the press exactly what you want.”

His lips pulled back in a snarl, the muscles and veins in his neck straining against the skin as he spat, “Are you threatening me, little dove?”

“This is our future, Tristan. No more secrets. Growing up, I was forced to tell you my sins, it seems only fitting you tell me yours.” The ground quaked beneath my feet, but by some miracle, I managed to remain upright.

A slow smirk spread across his face. “There are going to be consequences for this, Ariana.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He leaned against a bookshelf casually, but his eyes glinted with barely suppressed rage. We both knew he couldn’t hurt me here. There were too many witnesses.

Instead, he wrapped a large hand around my bicep and yanked me forward. “Someone within my own house was conspiring against me, so I did what I had to do to protect my assets,” he hissed, sending spittle onto my cheek.

“What are you saying?” I pushed, dread swirling in my belly.

“I’m saying I made the tough choices,” he growled, squeezing my arm in a punishing grip. “Now, it’s your turn.”

“You can’t say it.” I winced and shifted my weight from one foot to the other, struggling to free myself. “I’ve given you everything, yet you still won’t tell me the truth.”

With a condescending sneer, he released my arm and sent me stumbling back in my heels. I caught myself on the edge of his desk and released a shaky exhale, watching him warily.

His face was almost purple, the muscle in his jaw twitching wildly. “‘A worthy wife is a crown for her husband, but a disgraceful woman is like cancer in his bones.’ You know how you get rid of a tumor, little dove? You cut it out.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ariana

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