Page 11 of Shattered By Grace

“It was,” Victoria admitted, her voice tightening. She quickly changed the subject, not wanting to reveal too much about her complicated life. “But what about you, Taylor? Got any family around here?”

Taylor leaned back, her smile widening. “Well, I’m twenty-four, a Leo, and I’ve got two older brothers, but they’re off doing their own thing, so I don’t see them much. And I’m single, which just means I get to have more fun meeting new people… and indulging in my love for motorcycles.” She gave a playful wink and pulled out her phone. “Check this out—my Kawasaki Ninja 400. His name is Felix.”

She showed Victoria a picture of a sleek, light purple bike, with Taylor posed beside it in a leather jacket and pants, her helmet hanging off the handlebars, looking like she belonged in a motorcycle ad.

Victoria raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, are you secretly auditioning for a modeling gig? That bike is impressive.”

Taylor laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I’d like to think I could pull it off! But honestly, the bike does all the work.”

Victoria chuckled. “Still, that’s way more daring than anything I do. I mean, I stick to safer hobbies.”

Taylor shot her a teasing look. “Says the world champion fighter! I looked you up, by the way. That’s not exactly playing it safe. So, how’d you end up in the ring?”

Victoria shrugged, fiddling with the edge of her napkin. "My dad was a trainer, a top fighter in his prime. I started young, and it just… clicked for me. Fighting helps me focus, you know? After he died, I had to leave the city. Boxing kept me grounded."

Taylor's expression softened. “I’m sorry for your loss, Grace.”

Victoria offered a small smile. “It’s okay, it was a long time ago.”

Taylor nodded, then raised an eyebrow with a grin. “So, are you planning to get back into boxing here?”

Victoria laughed, shaking her head. “You’re funny. Imagine me delivering a baby with black eyes and busted eyebrows. Real comforting.”

The girls erupted into laughter, their bodies leaning into each other, the sound light and carefree until the unmistakable rhythm of footsteps sliced through the air, halting the moment in its tracks.

Tristan strode into the room, each step deliberate, his presence so powerful that it made every nerve in Victoria's body flare to life. He moved as though the world was his to command. Unhurried. Magnetic. Tyson trailed behind, but it was Tristan who drew the eye, owning the space with every step.

Victoria’s breath hitched in her throat, her body instinctively tense as she fought to maintain her composure.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Her fingers tightened around her water bottle, the plastic crinkling beneath her grip as she ducked her head, but not fast enough.

Guess we’re going with my drunk plan.

She didn’t need to turn. She felt his gaze. A slow, heated weight pressing against her skin, setting her nerves on edge. And when her eyes finally locked with Tristan’s, the noise around her faded.

The air thickened. Her pulse betrayed her cool facade.

Oh, great.

She muttered the words under her breath, reaching for any semblance of normalcy.

Taylor leaned in, her grin full of mischief. "Friend of yours?"

Victoria huffed, her stare never wavering from Tristan’s.

"No," she said flatly, taking a slow sip of water. "Just some arrogant asshat I met at the gym."

Taylor's eyes flicked between them, intrigue sparking. “Huh. Arrogant asshat’s got a nice face.”

Victoria didn’t respond because Tristan was already moving.

Straight. For. Her.

Tristan's smile widened, as if he could hear every word, his gaze never leaving hers.

As Victoria turns back to Taylor, trying to act casual, Tristan decides to make his move.

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