Page 104 of Shattered By Grace

As they walked down the steps, she started heading toward a black car with its hazard lights flashing.

“Where you going?”

She turned, confused, glancing at the car before he pulled her toward a jet-black motorcycle parked at the curb.

“What the hell?”

Victoria’s voice was sharp, confusion visible in her eyes. “Tristan, you told me to dress nice and now you’re putting me on the back of a motorcycle?”

He smirked, dark eyes glinting with amusement as he looked down at her. “You didn’t think I’d take you to dinner in some stuffy car, did you?”

His words were laced with that same cocky, dangerous energy she was getting used to, and hating, even as her pulse quickened.

This motherfucker.

Pulling up to one of the fanciest restaurants in town, Tristan eased the bike to a stop right at the front entrance. He killed theengine, the sudden silence making Victoria even more aware of how many eyes were on them.

Swinging off the bike, Tristan turned and reached for her, his hands firm as he helped her off, making sure her dress didn’t ride up. His touch was confident, his fingers grazing her hips just a second longer than necessary.

He lifted a hand to the strap of her helmet, his knuckles brushing against her jaw as he carefully undid the buckle. There was something strangely intimate about it, the way he handled her, like she was something breakable, something that mattered.

The helmet slipped off, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Victoria’s hair, once secured in a messy bun, had loosened, a few strands escaping to frame her face. Tristan’s gaze flickered over her under the dim glow of the city lights.

His fingers brushed against her jaw as he set the helmet aside, his touch lingering just long enough to send a slow, tingling warmth through her skin. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching her, his expression caught somewhere between restraint and something far more dangerous.

"You alright?" His voice was low, rough.

Victoria swallowed, the night air cool against her skin. "I’m fine."

Tristan didn’t move for a long moment, his eyes dark, searching. Then, with a slow exhale, he stepped back, his hands dropping away.

"Come on," he said, turning toward the edge of the overlook. "I want to show you off."

Smooth. Always in control.

He tossed the keys to the valet without a second glance.“Just keep it up here.”

The poor kid fumbled to catch them, visibly shaking.“Y-yes, Mr. Locke, sir.”

Victoria huffed a quiet laugh.“I guess you scare everyone you come into contact with.”

“It’s just the name.” Tristan barely shrugged, holding the restaurant door open for her.

This cocky motherfucker.

They walked in hand in hand, heading straight for the elevator. Tristan pressed the button for the top floor without hesitation.

The moment the doors slid shut, the air shifted.

Standing this close, her hand still in his, Victoria could feel the heat radiating off him. The scent of leather and something distinctlyhimsurrounded her, making her pulse hammer. Every small movement, every brush of his arm against hers sent a rush of awareness through her.

She wanted to touch him,reallytouch him. But instead, she just stood there, stealing glances, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check.

He never looked away.

She couldfeelhis gaze on her, could practically hear the thoughts running through his head.

By the time the elevator doors opened, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief or pull him right back in and hit the emergency stop.

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