Chapter 29
Camille
Isplash cold water on my face, gripping the edge of the marble sink as I try to steady my breathing.
The bathroom is all polished surfaces and expensive fixtures, just like its owner—beautiful, cold, and unyielding.
My reflection stares back at me from the ornate mirror, cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
Tonight has been a complete disaster. I knew meeting Tristan's sister wouldn't be easy, but I hadn't expected this level of outright hostility.
"Pull it together," I whisper to myself, echoing the words I've repeated countless times in the past few months.
My hands shake slightly as I reach for a hand towel, patting my face dry.
The embroidered monogram scratches against my skin—KV, Kate Vale, a woman who made her opinion of me clear within minutes of our meeting.
I take several deep breaths, counting slowly like my therapist taught me when anxiety becomes too much to handle. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.
When I finally feel steady enough, I smooth my dress, tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and reach for the door handle. I've faced worse than Kate Vale in my life. I can absolutely handle an over-protective sister with boundary issues.
I open up the door, preparing to head back into the lion’s den. Kate stands in the hallway though, arms crossed over her chest, blocking my path. Her face is composed in that lawyer way—calculating, observant, ready to pounce on any weakness.
"Were you planning to hide in here all night?" she asks, her voice deceptively mild.
"I needed a minute," I reply, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "Your hospitality is a bit overwhelming."
A tight smile crosses her face. "Forgive me for not rolling out the red carpet for the woman who's upended my brother's life."
"I haven't upended anything," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the surge of anger. "Tristan is a grown man capable of making his own choices."
Kate leans against the doorframe, effectively trapping me in the small space. "What exactly do you think you're doing with my brother?" Her tone is sharp, her eyes cold.
I stiffen, already done with this conversation before it's even begun. "I'm not going to have this discussion with you."
"No?" She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
Heat rushes to my face. "My relationship with Tristan and Julian isn't up for debate, especially not with someone who's already made up her mind about me."
Kate takes a step closer, and I fight the urge to back away, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me retreat.
"Women like you see men like Tristan and Julian and smell opportunity," she says, each word precise and cutting. "They have money, influence, attention to offer. You can't blame me for being suspicious."
I shake my head, a laugh escaping that sounds more like a scoff. "You don't get to make assumptions about my life just because you heard some gossip. You don't know the first thing about me or how any of this happened."
"Then tell me I'm wrong," Kate challenges, her eyes never leaving mine. "Tell me you didn't know exactly what you were doing when you got involved with both of them."
My fingers curl into my palms, nails digging into skin.
"You are wrong," I say firmly. "I didn't plan for any of this.
I didn't expect to fall for them. But I did.
" The admission makes my voice soften despite myself.
"I care about them both, more than I ever thought possible.
And they care about me—not because I manipulated them, but because we found something real. "
Something flickers across Kate's face—a momentary crack in her certainty. It vanishes so quickly I might have imagined it.
"Real," she repeats, the word hanging between us like a question. "Tell me, what happens when the baby comes? When the reality of raising another man's child becomes more than a theoretical situation? What happens when the novelty of this arrangement wears off?"
The questions hit their mark, striking at my own private fears. "I don't know," I admit. "We're figuring it out, day by day. Like any relationship."
"Except it's not like any relationship, is it?" Kate's voice takes on an almost pitying tone that makes my skin crawl. "It's ridiculously complicated and bound to end badly for someone. Probably my brother."
"You don't give Tristan enough credit," I counter. "He knows what he's doing. He's not some naive boy being led astray."
"I just don’t think he’s thought this through very well," Kate says, her voice suddenly tired. "This whole situation."
"This situation?" I repeat, anger flaring again. "You mean a meaningful relationship with someone who isn't hand-picked by his sister?"
Kate's eyes narrow. "I mean attaching himself to a pregnant woman in crisis who's already sleeping with his best friend. Do you really not see how this looks? How it will affect his reputation, his business relationships?"
"I never asked him to get involved," I say quietly. "He chose this. He chose me."
Kate stares at me for a long moment, her expression venomous. Then she steps back, shaking her head. "I'm sure you'll get what you deserve eventually. And I'll be here for Tristan when it all falls apart."
I exhale slowly, pushing past her into the hallway. "Excuse me," I murmur, needing to get away from her before I start to cry.
My legs feel heavy as I walk back toward the dining room, my composure hanging by the thinnest thread. Julian and Tristan look up as I enter, their faces immediately registering concern. I don't know what my expression shows, but it's enough to make Julian stand immediately.
"I'd like to leave," I announce, my voice surprisingly steady. "Now, please."
Tristan is already on his feet, moving to my side without hesitation. He grabs my hand in his, warm and solid. "Of course," he says. "We're done here."
Julian grabs our coats, and within moments, we're headed for the door. Nobody says goodbye to our hostess. Nobody needs to. The evening—and perhaps much more—is already over.
Julian and I slide into the back of Tristan's car, his arm draped protectively around my shoulders. I lean against him, completely exhausted, the weight of the confrontation making me feel like I could just melt into a puddle.
"Let’s go to Julian’s place. It’s the closest," Tristan decides from the front seat. "And you have that ridiculously large television. I think we all need to lay on the couch and chill."
Julian's place it is. None of us speak much during the drive.
Julian keeps his arm around me, holding me close.
Tristan drives with careful precision, the city lights flowing past us in streaks of gold and white.
I close my eyes, letting the gentle motion of the car and Julian's steady presence anchor me.
By the time we arrive, I'm caught in that strange limbo between exhaustion and hyper-alertness, my nerves still humming with leftover adrenaline from Kate's ambush. My body feels heavy, but my mind keeps replaying her words, her assumptions, her dismissal of what we've built.
Julian's penthouse welcomes us with soft lighting and familiar comfort. I've spent enough nights here that it feels almost like home—the oversized couch with its impossibly soft throws, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, the subtle scent of whatever cleaner his housekeeper uses.
"Sweatpants and a movie?" Julian suggests, already shrugging out of his jacket. "Something mindless with explosions?"
I nod, grateful for the suggestion. "Yes, please."
Tristan wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. "I'll make some tea."
Within minutes, I'm changed into a pair of Julian's sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts, both comically large on my frame but impossibly soft.
Julian scrolls through his movie collection while Tristan returns with three mugs of tea, setting mine on the coffee table within easy reach. I curl into the corner of the sectional sofa, feet tucked under me, still unable to fully relax.
"Here," Julian says, settling next to me. He pats his lap. "Give me those feet."
I hesitate only briefly before extending my legs across his thighs. His hands close around my right foot, thumbs pressing into the arch with perfect pressure. A small sound escapes me—halfway between a sigh and a moan.
Julian chuckles as he watches my eyes roll back into my head.
"You have no idea how good that feels," I murmur, sinking deeper into the cushions.
Tristan sits on my other side, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "May I?" he asks, fingers hovering near my neck.
I nod, and his hands begin to knead the tight muscles at the base of my skull, moving down to the knots that have formed between my shoulder blades.
On screen, some action movie plays out its predictable plot, but I’m barely paying attention. I’m completely consumed by these two men and how good their hands feel right now.
"Kate is wrong," Tristan says suddenly, his voice low near my ear. "About all of this."
I turn to look at him, finding his blue eyes intense and sincere. "I know."
Julian's fingers trace the delicate bones of my ankle. "She'll come around eventually. Or she won't. Doesn't change anything between us."
The simple certainty in his voice soothes something raw inside me. I let my head fall back against the cushions, feeling the day's tension begin to unravel under their careful ministrations.
My eyelids grow heavy as the movie drones on. Julian has moved to my other foot and Tristan's fingers have migrated to my scalp, running through my hair in slow, rhythmic strokes that make my skin tingle.
I'm drifting in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep when I feel it—a different kind of touch. Julian's hand has moved from my foot, sliding up my calf, past my knee, to rest warmly on my thigh. At the same time, Tristan's fingers graze the side of my breast through the thin t-shirt.
My eyes flutter open to find both of them watching me.
"We thought you might sleep better with an orgasm first," Julian says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. His hand inches higher on my thigh. "Does that sound good?"
The suggestion sends a rush of heat through me, arousal blooming sudden and intense. I nod, unable to find words as Julian's fingers trace the seam of the sweatpants along my inner thigh.
"Use your words, Cami," Tristan teases, his breath warm against my ear. "We need to hear you say it."
"Yes," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please."
That's all the permission they need. Julian tugs gently at the waistband of the sweatpants, and I lift my hips to help him slide them down my legs. The cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat building between my thighs.
Julian settles between my legs, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs wider.
He presses a kiss to the inside of my knee, then higher, his stubble a delicious friction against my skin.
Tristan's hands find the hem of my borrowed t-shirt, pushing it up to expose my breasts.
His fingers trace circles around my nipple, which tightens in immediate response.
The first touch of Julian's mouth between my legs pulls a gasp from me. His tongue traces a deliberate path through my folds before circling my clit with maddening precision. Tristan captures my mouth in a kiss that makes me melt.
Every nerve ending in my body seems to ignite at once. Tristan breaks the kiss to move lower, his mouth closing around my nipple just as Julian sucks gently on my clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming—Tristan's tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while Julian's works between my thighs.
One of my hands tangles in Julian's hair, the other gripping Tristan's shoulder. The tension that's been building all evening, from the moment we arrived at Kate's, transforms into something electric, something demanding release.
"That's it," Tristan murmurs against my breast, his voice rough with his own desire. "Let go, Cami."
Julian's tongue flicks faster against my clit, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me open as my hips begin to rock against his mouth. Tristan's teeth graze my nipple, just enough pressure to send a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.
The orgasm builds with startling speed, coiling tight before exploding outward. I come with a cry, my body arching off the couch.
Julian presses one last kiss to my inner thigh before sitting back, his lips glistening in the dim light. Tristan's hand strokes my hair back from my face, his touch gentle as my breathing gradually returns to normal.
Every muscle in my body has gone slack, Kate's accusations and cold stares disintegrated by pleasure and the warm certainty of being cared for.
"What can I do for the two of you?" I ask suggestively when I can finally form coherent thoughts again, aware of their obvious arousal.
"Nothing, baby," Tristan says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "We just wanted to make you feel good before we tuck you in for the night."
Julian pulls the sweatpants back up my legs with surprising tenderness, then settles beside me, pulling me against his chest. "Better?" he asks, his hand finding mine.
I nod, suddenly overcome with emotion for these two men who defend me, comfort me, and expect nothing in return.
Whatever Kate thinks, whatever the rest of the world assumes—they know what we have is real.
And in this moment, wrapped in their warmth with pleasure still humming through my veins, that's all that matters.