Chapter 18 – Tristan
TRISTAN
Ican’t remember the last time I felt this good.
My day started with Waverly’s warm body curled against mine, and what followed was nothing short of spectacular.
Her hands exploring me with surprising confidence, my mouth finding all the places that make her gasp.
For something that started as an arrangement, one where she didn’t like or want any part of me, things have changed quickly.
When she came apart beneath me, whispering my name like a secret she’d been keeping, I almost forgot this wasn’t meant to be real.
And the day only got better.
Waverly between us in the backseat, Braxton’s hand on her tits, mine sliding under her skirt.
Her sharp intake of breath as my fingers found their target, Braxton whispering encouragement in her ear while I watched her face.
Her trying to stay quiet as we approached our destination, the tiny, broken sound she made when she came against our fingers.
The three of us walking into Smithfield Pharmaceuticals ten minutes later, professionally dressed and composed, carrying our secret like a shared heartbeat.
It still has me smirking. Then of course there’s the billion-dollar deal we negotiated and what it’ll do to not only our stock but also to our company’s potential. Now here we are.
“What are you thinking about?” Waverly challenges, nudging me with her elbow.
Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and her breath forms small clouds in the winter air.
She’s wearing bright red mittens on her hands that she picked out and bought without wincing at the price.
She’s so fucking adorable I can hardly stand it.
“Nothing fit for public consumption,” I reply, and Braxton laughs.
“You’re thinking about this morning,” he accuses, walking on the other side of her as we stroll through the Christmas market at Place Vend?me.
“Can you blame me?”
Waverly goes on ahead, pretending to ignore us as she admires a display of hand-blown glass ornaments, her dark hair catching the holiday lights, and her eyes the same color as the sky.
“Smithfield practically handed us their company.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I shrug, but the smirk doesn’t leave my face.
“Come look at these!” Waverly calls, waving us over to a stall selling hand-knit scarves in ridiculous colors. “They’re beautiful.”
I move behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders. “Want one?”
“No, I was just admiring them.” She turns to face me, our breaths kissing between us.
“I can get you all of them.” I’m only half-joking.
Something about her refusing my money makes me want to shower her with more.
She wouldn’t let me buy the mittens and made me promise that lunch was a business expense.
She paid off her debts, and I’ve made arrangements with the nursing home for automatic deposits every month.
I also upgraded her grandmother’s room to a single from a double.
I haven’t told Waverly that yet. She’d yell and never let it stand, but I don’t care. It’s done.
Waverly made some noise about paying for her grandmother now that the debts are paid off and she’s getting a raise after the first of the year, but I shut that down and told her it’s too late and it’s already done.
I also wanted her to have that extra two hundred and fifty grand.
I wanted that for her. As a bonus or a safety net or whatever she wants it to be, and she wouldn’t have it.
I’ve never met a woman who wasn’t enticed by my money.
It seriously only makes me want to give her more of it.
It’s all my ex-wife was after even when she played the part of a doting, loving girlfriend and then wife.
She’d shop and go out to lunch and throw lavish parties.
It was all a lie. A scam. Waverly isn’t close to that type of person, and as if to prove my thoughts…
Waverly glares up at me in that way that makes my chest tight. “I told you, I don’t want more of your money, Tristan. You’ve already given me too much.”
“It’s not about the money,” I insist, picking up a deep blue scarf that would bring out the flecks of silver in her eyes. “It’s about seeing you wear something I gave you.”
“That’s what I’m wearing now.” She does a little spin.
Braxton chuckles behind us. “Don’t waste your breath, Sunshine. He’s been like this since we were in college. His love language is aggressive spending on those who don’t have what he has.”
“It’s not aggressive,” I protest, putting the scarf down when Waverly gives me a stern look. “Besides, I don’t recall you complaining about it when I’d buy pizza or beers.”
He shrugs. “That’s because I was a poor, homeless college kid on scholarship, and my best friend and roommate was a billionaire. Didn’t mean I liked taking your money. You know I didn’t.”
“You tried to buy me an entire jewelry store display an hour ago,” she reminds me.
“Just the earrings!”
“Three pairs.”
“That’s what I’d buy my girlfriend if you were real and not a pain in my ass.”
Braxton laughs outright now, drawing glances from nearby shoppers.
He’s completely at ease here, as he should be after countless visits.
Paris is as much his second home as it is my first. But watching Waverly experience it is different.
Special in a way I hadn’t anticipated. The way her eyes widened at the lights strung across the Champs-élysées, how she insisted we try every variety of vin chaud in the market, the childlike joy when she spotted a merry-go-round and these fucking red mittens. Mittens! What adult wears mittens?
We’ve been walking around for hours, going from one spot to the next, and I don’t want to stop.
Brax was the same way on our first Christmas here, but it was different. He’s my best friend, not the woman I’m falling for.
I stumble and bump into Brax, who throws me a funny look. I never trip. I’m always sure-footed. The one in constant control. Who may have to move back to Paris in the very near future even if it’s simply for part of the year. I don’t have time or room in my life to fall in love.
Yes, I like her. A lot. And yes, I wanted some of this to be real.
I wanted Waverly as mine, but I knew it wasn’t feasible and could be only holiday fun between the three of us.
I was laboring under the assumption that I’d get my fill of this, and then Brax and Waverly would continue on together since I know he wants that.
This isn’t just fun for him. He’s serious about her.
But as I look at her, I know I’ve been lying to myself all this time. I’m falling in love with her. And I have no clue what to do about that.
We move on to a stall selling gingerbread, and Brax buys three pieces despite Waverly’s protests that she’s still full from lunch and all the wine she’s been sipping.
“This isn’t about hunger,” Brax tells her, breaking off a piece and holding it to her lips. “It’s about experience.”
She rolls her eyes but opens her mouth, allowing him to feed her. Her lips brush his fingers, and I feel that now-familiar spark race up my spine at the sight of them. Her eyes hold his only to shift to mine as she chews, and something passes between us.
Without any care or thought, he bends and kisses her. Right here on the street. I should stop him. She’s supposed to be my girlfriend. But I want them to fall for each other. I want them to have each other. Two lost and lonely souls that should come together. That should find love and happiness.
“I’m going to check out the mulled wine over there. Try not to cause a public scandal while I’m gone.”
They break the kiss and look at me. “Or we could all try it together,” Waverly suggests. “My turn to buy.”
I roll my eyes at her but let her place her hand on my arm and drag us along.
“Having fun?” Brax asks.
“It’s magical,” she admits, looking around at the twinkling lights and festive stalls. “Though I’m starting to think your parents must be wondering where we are.”
“They’re at their own Christmas party tonight that I declined on all our behalf. It’s at my ex-wife’s parents’.”
Waverly’s eyes go wide. “Your ex-wife?!”
I laugh. “Jealous?”
“Um. I don’t know. I hadn’t given her any real thought other than that she was a vampire temptress who drank your blood and left you for dead but accidentally turned you into a vampire instead.”
Brax snorts. “You’re not wrong on that description. That’s pretty much what Dianna is and what she did.”
“Wow. Okay. So weird. Glad we’re not going. Do I have to meet her? Will she be at your parents’ party?”
“No. She’s not allowed in my parents’ home.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Yes,” Brax agrees. “So it’s just us tonight.”
“Just us,” I confirm, watching a smile spread across his face. “Though I’m not done trying to spoil you yet.” I nudge Waverly.
She laughs, the sound light and sweet like the wine. “You’re impossible.”
“I prefer persistent. Come on. Be my girlfriend.”
I get a slow, rolling blink, and without stopping it, I lean in and kiss her. Because I can. Because right now, fake or not, she’s my girlfriend. And I want to enjoy this for as long as it lasts.
We wander through the market, and she asks us a million questions about our childhoods. Who our first kisses were with and what’s the worst thing we’ve ever done.
It’s impossible not to notice how easily the three of us fall into step together, and I know looking at Brax I’m not the only one thinking it. This thing between us should be complicated and messy—and it is—but there’s also an ease I never expected.
“What’s next on the Tristan Paris tour?” she asks, linking her arm through both of ours.
“That depends,” I reply, feeling a pleasant warmth that has nothing to do with the mulled wine. “How do you feel about heading back to the apartment?”
The look that passes between the three of us could set all the Christmas trees ablaze. I can’t help but think this might be more than just one of the best days of my life. It might be the beginning of something I never knew I wanted. Even if it’s something I know I can’t have.