Page 485 of Bad Prince

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Tristan

The second my mother’s name lights up my screen, I know two things—one, she saw the photos—two, if I don’t take the call, she’ll hyperventilate. Then spiral possibly to location tracking. Definitely to something expensive and inconvenient.

I push back from the table and mutter, “I should take this.”

Stella glances up at me, beautiful and soft from the morning and still somehow composed enough to make every other woman in the room look overdone.

There’s a flicker of nerves in her face before she smooths it away.

That alone tells me exactly what kind of call she’s expecting. The usual rich-parent version of concern that’s really just image management in a prettier coat.

I lean down and kiss her temple before I step away.

“Be right back.”

Jade watches me go with the expression of someone who would absolutely enjoy seeing me verbally spar with my mother over brunch.

Leo looks interested too.

Traitors.

I walk to the far end of the terrace, where the ocean is louder and the voices from inside blur into something soft enough not to matter. Then I answer.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Tristan.”

Controlled.

Elegant.

Not warm, exactly, but not cold either.

That should have been my first clue.

I brace one hand against the stone railing and look out over the water.

“You saw the photos.”

A pause.

“Yes.”

I wait for the lecture.

The questions.

The polished concern about timing and visibility and athletics and whether I’ve lost my mind.

Instead she says, “She’s beautiful.”

I blink.

The wind off the Atlantic cuts cold across my face.

“Okay,” I say carefully. “That’s… not what I expected.”

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