41. Paloma is not Safe
Gardenia
A month later…
“Fuck.” I release a breath, staring at the document in front of me. “Fuck.”
“What’s going on?” Jacob stops at my office door and leans on the threshold. “Wait. I know that face,” he says when I glance up to look at him. Shaking his head, he leans back to peek at Tristan’s corner office at the end of the hallway. “What did you do?” He steps in and shuts the door behind him.
“Nothing.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Why do you always assume I’m up to no good?”
“Because you’re always up to no good.” He takes the chair on the other side of my desk. The corners of his eyes wrinkle as a smile spreads across his face. “Wow, you really did a number this time. Spill it.”
“It’s nothing.” I rub the creases on my forehead. “I mean, it’s not, not nothing.”
“What?” He squints at me.
After we returned to the UK, Dad warned me to stay away from Tristan. Dad was afraid I would make a move on him. Given Tristan’s current state of mind, he was also afraid Tristan might give in.
Of course, I still want Tristan. But not like that. I don’t want to be his rebound girl. Losing his mom and the love of his life in the same week broke him. He’s barely alive. I’m not that big of an asshole. I would never take advantage of him that way, which is why I decided to do something stupid instead.
I went searching for Paloma’s mom.
Aunt Freya and I made quite a bit of progress before she was killed. She was determined to find out who Paloma’s mother was. She had a feeling something bad had happened to her friend. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought her friend Clara de Armas, who was the Swan Queen at the time, could be Paloma’s mother.
At first, Aunt Freya couldn’t remember her name. But Paloma gave us a good enough lead by giving us Clara’s maiden name. Of course, any trace of her was wiped from pretty much everywhere. There wasn’t even a death certificate on her. But Aunt Freya had the brilliant idea to check the Performance Arts Centre archives. A quick hack later, we found a bunch of photos of Clara de Armas. She looked so much like Paloma, like two peas in a pod.
“What did you do?” Jacob asks again.
“I thought it would be nice to finish what Aunt Freya started. So I kept digging on the lead we had to find Clara de Armas.”
“Clara who?” His brows furrow.
“Paloma’s mom.” I blow out a breath. “Aunt Freya said something that stuck with me. She said Clara hated the Senator. He was obsessed with her, which is why Aunt Freya never liked him. He was always around, being a total creep with Clara.”
“Okay. So what did you find out?” He sits forward.
“Please tell me you won’t say anything to Tristan. This is going to kill him.” I rub the side of my face. “This is the last thing he needs.”
“Jesus Christ, Gardenia. Just tell me.” His serene eyes shift from calm to intense. Jacob’s temperament is always light and fun. Until his family’s well-being is on the line. Then he can be so intimidating and even dangerous.
“I took the liberty of getting some DNA samples from the mansion when we were there installing the cameras. The results came back. Paloma is not the Senator’s daughter.”
“The fuck?” He sits back on his chair. “What does this mean?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “But think about it. Clara hated the Senator. Then has a daughter out of wedlock. No one knows who the dad is. But then, she disappears. And all of the sudden.” I throw my arms up in the air for effect. “Bam, the Senator has a daughter and a dead wife.”
“I mean, people adopt children all the time,” Jacob asks, shooting a quick glance toward Tristan’s office.
“There are no adoption papers. He appears as the father on Paloma’s birth certificate.” I cock my eyebrow.
“Can you prove any of it?” he asks.
“Can I prove he kidnapped Paloma when she was four? No. But the one fact is indisputable—Paloma is not his daughter.” I point at the paper in front of me. “And here’s the other thing.”
“Of course, there’s another thing.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“It’s been a month and the Senator’s still missing. I have no idea what that means. But one thing is for sure.” I bite my lower lip, feeling guilty for my part in leaving her behind. “Paloma is in danger.”
“Why?” Jacob takes the DNA test results from me and stares at it. “Hunter is gone. And so is the Senator.”
“The Senator’s obsession for Clara led him to possibly kidnap Paloma and raise her as his own.” I stop to inhale. “I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about him. As long as the Senator is out there, possibly alive, Paloma is not safe.”
“So what do we do?” Jacob meets my gaze. “Do we tell Tristan?”
“That’s the six-million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I swallow the lump in my throat.
Tristan is safe here. He barely survived the Senator this time around. What would happen if he went back to the States for round three? I don’t want to be the one to put him in danger like that. Aunt Freya would not want that for him. If he returns, then she died for nothing.
“Whether we like it or not, Paloma is his wife. And Tristan loves her beyond reason,” Jacob mutters.
“I know.” I swallow hard at that irrefutable fact. “He only let her go because he thinks that’s what’s best for her. If that changes in his mind, what do you think he’ll do?”
He scoffs. “Go after her. Try and save her. And possibly die in the process.” Jacob purses his lips. The fire in his eyes tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am. “We can’t tell him. The Senator has proven to be smarter and more influential than we thought. It’s too risky.”
“I know.” I glance up, and my heart rate spikes instantly.
“What exactly is too risky?” Tristan crowds the threshold.
* * *
Thank you so much for reading Paloma and Tristan’s forbidden love story. Please consider leaving a kind review. It would totally make my day, plus it’ll help other awesome readers like you find my books.
What’s next? Paloma and Tristan’s story continues in Empire of Lust and Sorrow (coming Summer 2025), where Paloma finds trouble while looking for answers behind her mother’s disappearance. With Tristan gone, the only one who can help her is the mysterious man in a mask, who may or may not be stalking her.