Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(72)

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Let’s not do this here,” he grinds out. “Don’t be rash, Elly.”

“I’m not being rash,” I say through equally gritted teeth. “Daddy,” I add with a growl. “You never consulted me on this before you sprung it on me. This is a huge deal.”

“Is it the area?” he asks, bewildered. “I was considering putting you in one of my apartments that we rent out in Mayfair, but I thought Battersea would be better for your age group.”

“Putting me…? It’s not the flat or the area, Tristan,” I say with forced calm. “I’m not accepting free rent from you…”

“Can you give us a minute?” Tristan says, turning to Dave. Dave nods and retreats into the kitchen.

“Elly!” Megan wails. “Don’t be stupid. Take the goddamn flat. I’m sick of keeping all our baked goods in my bedroom.”

My scowl deepens. “You want me to take this flat even though it would make me some sort of gold-digging freeloader? You would be a freeloader too, you know.”

“Yes!” Megan claps her hands. “Stop being a moron. I don’t want to live in our house-share. There are crumbs everywhere. No wonder we have mice. I think some of those crumbs are from the year it was built.”

“It’s Victorian.” I roll my eyes. “And what happens if Tristan doesn’t want to go out with me anymore? What if he goes off me? When we move, we move our way.”

“Elly, you are being ridiculous,” his gravelly voice cuts in.

“Stop antagonising me, Tristan!” I snap. “You do realise that Dave thinks you’re a sugar daddy? He’s looking at me like you’ve got whores holed up all over the city.”

His expression is stormy. “He thinks it now.”

I try to calm myself down. “Look, this is really sweet of you, but I can’t accept this. I’m not a charity case.”

“I’d thought you would be happy with this place,” Tristan says sullenly.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” I continue. “But you can’t make decisions like this for me without consulting me. Bringing Megan along without asking me was unfair. Now look what’ll I’ll have to put up with.” I nod to Megan standing mournfully beside the window, already grieving her loss. “Imagine what our colleagues would say.”

“Excuse me?” Dave sneaks back in. “Will you be wanting the keys?”

“No,” Tristan and I both say at the same time.

Dave looks devastated.

“I’ll be in contact,” Tristan says to Dave dully. “Let’s go, ladies.”

The elevator ride down is very different from the ride up. The longest elevator ride of my life. You could cut the awkwardness with a knife. Even Dave stands rigid in the corner, the sales fever sucked out of him by the wrath of Tristan, brooding in the other corner.

We walk out of the intelligent building and towards the car in silence, Tristan three strides ahead of Megan and me. I give her a warning look to be quiet.

Tristan jabs at the car fob opener, and the car beeps open. He gets into the car on the driver’s side and slams the door shut. I don’t know if the offer extends to Megan and I. Tentatively, I open the car door, and Megan crawls in the back.

Tristan turns on the ignition, it revs, but we don’t move. Instead, he stares straight ahead. Megan and I sit in silence, glancing at each other in the front mirror. I still my breathing so as not to disturb him. Is he going to flip? Are we about to see the full wrath of Tristan Kane?

His steely eyes turn to me. “So, I fucked up, huh?”

“A little,” I say. “It was a nice gesture but heavy-handed.”

He exhales heavily. “Sorry.”

“You made a mistake,” I say softly. “Since when are you afraid of making mistakes?”

“When it comes to you, I am.” His hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Tristan, if I have sex with you, can I stay?” Megan pipes up from the back seat.





24




Elly

Three missed calls from Mum instantly fills me with dread. Especially since it’s three calls in the space of twenty minutes. No one calls repeatedly just for a chat. Definitely not my mum on a Friday night; at this time in the evening she should be down at The Wee Donkey, the life and soul of the party.

So I call her back, my heart starting to race. She answers on the first ring.

“Elly!” Something has happened. She’s panicked.

“Yes, Mum?” I spring up from Tristan’s sofa. “Is everything okay?”

Frowning, Tristan looks up from where he’s reading the newspaper on the sofa.

“There’s been a bit of trouble.” Her voice is breaking and breathy.

“What trouble?” I gasp. Now my heart is hammering in my chest.

Concerned, Tristan stands up.

“Someone put a brick through the front window,” she tells me.

“What?” My voice spikes upwards. “Why would someone do that?”

“Barry’s son.” She sniffs. “I called the police but I can’t prove it was Barry’s son.”

“What did Barry say?” I ask bewildered. I knew bloody Barry was trouble. “Why on earth would his son do this?”