Page 28 of Fallen Knight

But right now, I welcome it.

I float my gaze toward Tristan, giving him a soft smile before looking back at Jameson, shoulders squared, head held high.

“Jameson Gates, may I introduce Tristan Hughes. Tristan, this is Jameson Gates. His father is the head of Gates Enter—”

“I know who he is,” Tristan interjects gruffly, a hint of animosity in his tone.

It strikes me as odd. Granted, Tristan’s aware of my history with Jameson. At least he’s aware of the lie we told the world.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to Tristan’s obvious distaste.

“And I also know his father is no longer running the company,” Tristan adds.

“That’s correct.” Jameson beams. “Considering he’s over seventy, he decided to step back and enjoy retirement. Or as much of a retirement as a lifelong workaholic will allow.” He winks, acting as charming as ever.

Which only causes Tristan’s muscles to tighten even more, his hand caressing my back, reminding me he’s here.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” I state.

The edges of Jameson’s mouth curve up into a sly smirk. “I could say the same for you. I heard you might be taking on some of your royal responsibilities again. Is it true?”

“I didn’t take you for someone to follow the gossip rags.” I smile, remaining as evasive as possible. “If I recall correctly, you once avoided them like a cat tries to flee from a bath.”

“Don’t worry. I still do.” He winks.

“Then—”

“Your father mentioned something during our last meeting.”

Confusion creases my brow, lips parting as I slowly shake my head. “My father? I don’t—”

“I’m on his privy council. He found the expertise I amassed during the years I’ve spent in the Middle East and Africa valuable, especially these days.” He gives me a quizzical look. “I’d thought you’d have heard.”

I blink repeatedly, caught off guard by his revelation. That would explain why he’s here. But this news still does nothing to diminish my shock over the knowledge that Jameson Gates, the man the royal household once hoped I’d marry, has somehow become one of my father’s most trusted advisors. One of the people yielding a great deal of power and influence in the monarchy.

One of the people yielding a great deal of power and influence over me now.

My father may be the king, but he often looks to his privy council for advice and guidance on everything from issues facing the inner workings of the monarchy to the country as a whole.

The idea of Jameson Gates being one of those people doesn’t sit well with me.

I have no basis in reality for why I feel this way. During our brief fake courtship, he always treated me with respect. Offered me comfort during those trying weeks after Adam’s death. Was glued to my side as I recovered from my own injuries. Not because the royal household ordered him to be there in the hopes of getting photos of my doting boyfriend taking care of me.

He was there because it was the right thing to do. Because he cared about me.

But I still can’t shake the strange feeling I get when I recall his behavior during that last meeting, even after all these years. How he kept glancing at Gianna, as if looking for direction or approval. Now she’s dead.

Is it all just a coincidence, as my father insisted was the case?

Or is there something more?

The lights begin to dim, snapping me back to the present.

“Looks like the performance is about to start,” Jameson says brightly. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of each other in the weeks to come.” He flashes a smile, then looks toward Tristan. “Mr. Hughes.”

Tristan simply nods, displaying no warmth.

If it bothers Jameson, he doesn’t show it. Much like was the case all those years ago whenever Creed gave Jameson the cold shoulder.

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