13. Chapter Thirteen Tristan
The Orsini estate’s dining room was a battlefield disguised as a place of peace. The long table, set with fine china and crystal, held more than just the lavish spread of brunch items; it held the glances and subtle exchanges of a family well-versed in the art of war. I sat beside Adriana, whose tense shoulders spoke volumes about her comfort level in this setting.
My brothers looked even more ill-at-ease than I felt, which was some comfort. Not much, obviously, but at least it was funny.
“Tristan,” Silvio’s voice broke the silence that had settled over us like morning fog. “Adriana, have you two come any closer to setting a date for the wedding?”
I glanced at Adriana, who straightened her back, the dark strands of her hair framing her face like a shield. She met her father’s gaze with one that matched his own - firm and unyielding. “Not yet, Daddy.”
“What’s the hold up?” Silvio asked. “You’re showing. And glowing, obviously, but…”
“They’ll do it on their own terms, honey,” Alessia said under her breath. Silvio turned to smile at her.
My parents were both dead but I didn’t think I had ever seen my dad smile at my mom–or at Kieran’s mom or at Liam’s mom–like that.
“Actually, we’ve been thinking of doing something... different,” Adriana said, her voice steady. “A masquerade ball, to celebrate our engagement.”
Silvio’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he masked any surprise quickly, nodding as if considering the strategy behind her words. “Interesting choice,” he mused. “And the timing?”
“Timed perfectly,” Adriana continued, “to keep our enemies guessing and off balance. A celebration that’s also a statement.”
“The perfect political princess,” Carmen said.
“Shut up, Carm,” Adriana replied, no real venom in her voice.
I did admire her cleverness. The masquerade was a stroke of genius, really. It was theatrical, distracting, and it bought us time - time we desperately needed to navigate the treacherous waters of our families’ alliances and rivalries.
“Very well,” Silvio said after a moment, a hint of pride in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. “I trust you’ll handle it with the same precision you handle everything else, Adriana.”
“She is an actuary,“ I said, as if I had any idea what that meant.
It made her laugh. I reached under the table and found her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
The clink of fine china filled the silence after Adriana’s announcement, and Silvio Orsini leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as he watched us all with keen eyes that had seen too much. When did this man eat? All he did was lean and stare, but his plate was almost completely empty.
“And what’s the news on the Rossis?” he asked casually, yet with a weight that implied it was anything but.
I kept my expression neutral, feeling the texture of the tablecloth beneath my fingertips. “Haven’t heard a thing,” I lied smoothly. It was the only safe answer in a game where truth was often more dangerous than fiction.
Kieran shifted in his seat next to me, the dark fabric of his shirt stretching over his shoulders as he leaned forward, eager to make an impression. “We’re handling it,” he said, his voice tinged with the arrogance of someone who wanted to prove themselves.
I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch at his recklessness. A swift kick under the table sent him a clear message—stay quiet, stay smart. He shot me a glare, rubbing his shin, but fell silent.
Fucking Kieran.
Silvio nodded, his gaze lingering on Kieran a moment longer before returning to me. “There might be an opportunity coming up,” he continued, oblivious or indifferent to the tension between his guests. “A meeting with some of the Rossis.”
I masked my immediate distaste for the idea with a sip of water, keeping my face impassive. Silvio didn’t need to know that the prospect of walking into what could easily be a trap wasn’t my idea of a solid plan. “Sounds promising,” I managed to say, my tone carefully measured.
“I thought you’d be more annoyed,” Silvio said. “Considering they did take my daughter.”
I took another sip of water, remembering how he had to help me save Adriana from Nick Rossi. How my father had died from Nick’s hand.
“I expect you won’t let Nick Rossi keep running it,” I replied. “I expect he’ll see appropriate retribution for everything he has done. In my experience, you’re not a forgiving man. I have faith you’ll handle this, Mr. Orsini.”
I hadn’t said a thing I didn’t mean, but the words still tasted like ash in my mouth.
“Indeed,” Silvio replied with a nod. “These things are delicate, Tristan. One wrong move and we find ourselves in a world of trouble.”
I clenched my hands under the table, trying to steady the storm brewing within. Adriana, sensing the rising tension, reached for a lighter topic like she was grasping for a lifeline.
“Speaking of plans,” she said, her voice pushing through the heaviness, “Carmen, you’ve been awfully quiet about your own love life.”
Carmen tossed her head back and laughed, her fiery red hair catching the light in a cascade of flames. “Please, as if I’d ever let myself be tied down for something as tedious as political alliance. Thank heavens I’m not in your shoes, sis.”
Alessia shushed her. Silvio grunted with what could have been amusement or agreement – it was hard to tell which. “Damn right you’re lucky,” he said with a sidelong glance at me that felt more like a warning than a jest.
I’d noticed Liam hadn’t said a word so far, he’d just been watching everything with interest and quietly eating his food.
Adriana’s face paled, a stark contrast to the warmth of the morning sun pouring into the estate’s grand dining room. Her sharp wit struggled against the weight of our situation, but today, it seemed to falter. Excusing herself abruptly, she stood up, knocking her chair back slightly. “I need some air,” she muttered before striding out, her athletic build despite the expanding baby bump tense with barely contained emotion.
“Adriana...” I started, but she was already gone. My heart hammered against my ribs as I considered the implications of her sudden departure. The fear of Killian’s potential betrayal gnawed at me, alongside the violent memories of last night’s show of force. I couldn’t ignore the urgency to follow her.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice more strained than I intended, as I pushed away from the table and walked in her direction.
“Tristan,” Silvio called after me, his tone sharp enough to slice through the tension. But I didn’t stop; some things were more important than appeasing the head of the Orsini family.
Before I could catch up to her, Carmen was standing next to me.
“I’ll check on her,” she said, though her posture suggested she wanted nothing more than to wash her hands of the whole matter.
“Thanks,” I replied, my throat tight with worry. As Carmen walked past me, I heard the faint rustle of her dress, and I leaned against the cool wall, fighting the sense that everything we had built was balanced on the edge of a knife.
I could’ve gone back to the table, but I wanted to go check on Adriana instead. Everything was so intense, and I just wanted to make sure that Adriana was alright.
Pausing outside the door, I leaned in, my ear pressed against the cool wood. Through it, I could hear the hitch of breath, the soft symphony of sobs that twisted around my heart like barbed wire. Adriana’s voice broke through, laced with a fear that made my insides coil.
“I’m just so stressed, Carmen,” she choked out. “And last night... I thought Tristan was—“
“Shh,” Carmen’s voice cut in, sharp and clear. “You don’t have to do this. Just dump him and come back home.”
“Are you insane?” Adriana’s voice rose in disbelief. “It’s not that simple.”
“He bailed on marrying you, he got you pregnant, then he kidnapped you,” Carmen said. “In black and white, it feels simple.”
I almost burst through the door right then, my hands fisting at my sides. Instead, something held me back—a whisper of caution in my mind. I stayed rooted to the spot, a silent sentinel.
“Whatever you say, I love him,” Adriana said, which did a little to ease the knot in my throat. “Did Dad ever try to tie you down with one of these political marriages? Maybe if he had, you’d understand too.”
“He talked about it briefly once,” she said. “But I said no. I carve my own path.”
“Wait. One of the Callahans?”
Carmen hesitated, then said, “No. That’s the weirdest thing, it wasn’t.”
“So who with?” Adriana asked.
“I don’t know. We never got to that part of the conversation before I shot him down.”
I shifted my weight, the old floorboard creaking under my shoe—a sound I immediately regretted.
“Carm,” Adriana said. “There’s something I’ve been dying to talk to you about.”
“What?” Carmen said.
“There’s…look, there’s no easy way to say this. But about Dad’s book. I found evidence that someone is embezzling, and well, I’m not saying you did anything. But I’m giving you a chance to defend yourself, right now, in private, away from Tristan.”
Carmen scoffed. “What?”
“Please, Carmen,” Adriana’s voice quivered with urgency, “Just tell me the truth.”
Silence hung heavy. Even without seeing her face, I could picture Carmen wrestling with her pride, the same stubborn set to her jaw that she always had when cornered.
“Adriana,” Carmen finally spoke, her tone carrying an edge of defiance, “you think I’m stealing? From our own family?”
The accusation sliced through the quiet, and I could all but see the hurt flashing in Adriana’s eyes. “Well, I don’t think that, but–”
“And do something that would make you look this bad? Look, I might be an asshole, but I don’t want anyone to hurt you,” Carmen said. “And Dad would get so mad…”
“Are you–”
“Yes, fuck, I’m sure. Do you want to see my financial records?” Carmen asked. “Because I’ll give them all to you. I’ll give them all to your baby daddy if it’s the only way you can trust me.”
Okay, that solved one problem, I guessed. It was probably time for me to step out of the cracks now and to reveal myself, though I didn’t love that they would know that I’d been spying.
Their exchange echoed off the walls, reverberating like a church bell tolling for judgment. It was time to step out from the shadows. Pushing off the wall, I cleared my throat before entering the room.
Carmen whirled around, her eyes narrowing at my sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, her annoyance as clear as day.
“Overheard a bit,” I admitted, keeping my voice level despite the storm brewing inside me. “It’s clear there’s a lot going on.”
Adriana looked between us, her expression a mix of relief and concern. “Tristan...”
“Look,” I started, locking eyes with Carmen, “I don’t want bad blood between us.” The words felt like gravel in my mouth, rough and hard to swallow. But they needed to be said.
“That’s why you’re spying on me?” Carmen asked. “I think my sister might be dick drunk, but I see right through you, Callahan.”
With that, she got off the bed where they were both sitting and I watched her storm out.
“I guess she’s not the one doing the embezzling.”
Adriana nodded, her eyes wide.
“I thought you’d be relieved.”
“I’m not,” she said. “This means that the problem is much worse than we first thought.”