Page 22 of Don't Bite The Boss
“Yeah, I guess,” I nod, biting my nail as I consider this new information. “Why would Christopher want to become vampire, though? I thought he was organising a militia to track and kill Solomon.”
“He is, but he also wants to ensure he doesn’t die in the forthcoming fight. He’s not the type to run and hide, it’s driving him insane that he is weaker than his enemy, our enemy. And, just between you and I, I think he is questioning Serena’s devotion to him, knowing that she will outlive him, wondering if she wants him more for his money than forhim.”
“That is truly fucking ridiculous,” I scoff.
“Not to him,” Tess says quietly.
“And what do you think? You must have heard both sides?”
“I think that when Christopher accused her of only wanting him because he smelled Irresistible, and intimating that she also wanted his money, that she was heartbroken,” Tess says gently, “and I imagine she thinks that somehow if she finds and returns his daughter, he will understand how much she truly loves him.”
“If he doesn’t know that by now he needs his head examined,” I spit, “I’ll talk some sense into him, I’ll pound some sense into him. Where is this Christopher dipshit now?”
“He’s here mostly, back and forth between here and the city, but he’s also been planning to join Tristan on the boat, it just hasn’t eventuated yet. Tristan’s apparently not answering his calls.”
“Tristan said they sailed together whenever Christopher needed to get his thoughts clear.”
‘I’ll clear his thoughts for him, permanently….’
“Only now they both need each other,” Tess says quietly, interrupting the violent turn of my thoughts, “I’m not sure Tristan is in the right headspace to sort out Christopher’s problems.”
“I guess, wait, why?”
“Don’t you know? Tristan’s fiancé dumped him.”
My face drains of colour.
“Pru?”
“I didn’t know,” I whisper,‘although I should have. But, wait, she left him? No, that is too moronic even for her, something else must have happened.’
I utter a few more pleasantries and hang up. Tristan might not be answering his phone, but he will sure as hell answer my questions.
“Do you think the water will prevent me from confronting you?” I growl as I take my car keys and head for the bay.
His security escorts me to the foredeck lounges, and I sit, impatiently tapping my foot, while I await our boss.
A few minutes pass before he arrives, his usually neat hair awry, a whisky bottle in one hand, two empty glasses in the other. From the smell of him, he is already four sheets to the wind, and I am guessing this is not the first bottle he has opened tonight.
Frowning, I wait for the security to be dismissed and raise my eyes to his as he hands me a glass and tops it up.
“Tristan,” I speak quietly, my words ice, “you haven’t been honest with me. Tell me everything, now. And you can start with, what the fuck is wrong? You’ve been acting strangely for the past two weeks, here one minute, gone the next, hardly speaking. If you are under threat or in some kind of trouble, apart from the apparent fact you have a contract out on you from the fucking mafia, then I need to know about it.”
“It’s over,” he says quietly, staring out to sea.
“What is?”
‘Please, God, don’t say he doesn’t want to see me ever again.’
“Fleur,” he breathes her name, “we are over.”
I breathe in deeply and lean back in the couch seat.
‘So, Tess was right.’
I study him quietly, his mussed hair, slouched shoulders, pained eyes. Of course, bloodsucking vampires and gun-toting baddies with a penchant for placing horse heads in the beds of enemies don’t raise a sweat, but Little Miss Sunshine has an argument with him, and he falls to pieces.
“Bullshit,” I mutter, downing my drink and reaching for the bottle.
