Page 136 of Shattered By Grace

Victoria arched a brow. “And yet, you still threw a punch.”

His smirk deepened. “Even the most disciplined men have their limits.” His hand flexed against hers, just for a second. “But I should have handled it better. And for that, I owe you an apology.”

Victoria blinked, momentarily thrown. She’d expected smugness, expected another round of veiled threats or insinuations, not this.

Her fingers flexed against his shoulder. “Okay,” she said cautiously.

Tyson exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s it? No gloating? No sharp remark?”

“No,” she said, studying him. “But I’m curious.”

Tyson smirked. “That’s dangerous.”

In this light, she could see the resemblance between him and Tristan. The same sharpness, the same charm, though Tyson wielded his differently.

She tilted her head. “Why does your father only call on Tristan to handle the fights?” Her voice was steady but edged with suspicion. “Tristan may enjoy it, but why does it always fall on him? He had three fights lined up last night, and your father still made him fight the night before. Almost like he’s punishing him for something.”

Tyson’s steps faltered for the briefest moment, but he didn’t waver. His gaze met hers, though something darker flickered behind his eyes.

“My father’s methods are his own,” he said coolly. “It’s always been this way. Tristan was always the better fighter. He’s older, and when the time comes, he’ll take over.”

He twirled her once more, then pulled her back in, his tone casual but precise. “I, on the other hand… I can hold my own, but the business side? That’s where I excel.”

Victoria’s grip tightened slightly. “And you’re okay with the family business?” Her voice was sharper than she intended, the weight behind her words unmistakable. He didn’t answer.

“That silence is really loud, Tyson.”

His smirk returned, slower this time, more thoughtful. “Since we are trying to understand things, I have a question.”

Victoria arched a brow. “Of course there’s a question.”

Tyson twirled her once more, drawing her back into his space effortlessly. “Why did you lie about your name?”

The shift was subtle, but she felt it. The way the air between them tightened, the way his gaze settled on her with something sharper than amusement.

Victoria’s breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she forced a lightness into her tone. “You should know if you handle the business stuff.”

Before she could answer, before she could even formulate a response, Tyson’s gaze flicked past her, landing on something—or someone—over her shoulder. His smirk widened.

“Looks like I won’t be getting that answer tonight,” he mused, his grip on her hand remaining just a moment longer than necessary.

“Tyson.”

Tristan’s voice was sharp, cutting through the moment like a blade. Victoria barely had time to process before he stepped between them, his body a solid barrier.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tristan’s tone was controlled, but she heard the edge beneath it.

Tyson let out a dry laugh, utterly unfazed. “Dancing with your gorgeous date.” His gaze flicked to Victoria, full of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite place. His fingers still loosely held hers.

And then, with a slow, purposeful movement, he sidestepped Tristan just enough to raise her hand to his lips. The kiss was barely more than a brush, but the way his eyes met hers as he did it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’ll see you soon, Victoria.”

The words felt like a promise. Or a threat. Maybe both.

Then, just as smoothly as he had appeared, Tyson turned away, letting her hand slip from his. “I’ll meet you in the car, Tristan.”

He disappeared into the crowd, leaving Victoria standing between the two men, her pulse racing.

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