Page 40 of Shattered Sinner
“Welcome to my home, Bianca. Step into my office so that we can talk,” he said before turning to Gabrielle. “Thatcher would like the reports that you and I chatted about before I had to take that call. Can you make sure that he gets them?”
Gabrielle looked at him and then down at her feet for a brief second. “Certainly, Mr. Whitmore.”
“Follow me, Bianca.”
I gave Gabrielle a small smile before I followed Tristan into what turned out to be his office. It was night and day from what my father had decided to surround himselfwith. While there was dark colored wood in the room, there wasn'tmahogany to be found anywhere. Instead, he'd focused on blacks and grays along with white to outfit the space.
Once he closed the door behind me, he gestured to the seat near his desk and I sat down while I watched him walk around his desk before he, too, took a seat. His gaze on me was slightly unnerving, but I refused to show any sign of fear.
“What brings you here?”
I decided to start from the beginning of these shenanigans about this engagement party. “I assume you know about this, but my mother is planning a party where our ‘engagement’ is supposed to be announced.”
Tristan nodded, confirming that he had. “Yes, that was why I sent you those pink roses. It was a way to thank you for making a decision.”
I stared at Tristan for a moment, not sure how to say what I wanted to say. Then it hit me. “Say what now?”
“Your father told me that you were willing to go through with this whole plan.”
I wanted to be angry about this, but nothing came. I felt numb to my core about all of this but was not surprised at this point that my father would have stooped this low. This confirmed that I'd made the right decision by coming here.
“That's a lie. In fact, I was coming here to tell you that there was no way that I could go through with this. I want to be with someone else, and if that means that the photos of me get leaked, then so be it.”
Tristan slowly nodded, but he didn't say a word, so I continued. “It's not fair to either one of us to go through with this. We barely know each other, and I don't think this would work. As I've said before, I'm not sure of the reasons why you want to do this to begin with, but there has to be someone who would be more suitable for what you want and your needs.”
“I'll make you a deal.”
“You… will?” To say I was surprised was an understatement.
Tristan sat up a little straighter and then said, “Yes. This would be a whole new deal, without the engagement, and will make sure that the photos of you don't get out either.”
I took a large drink from my water to buy me time to process my thoughts. When I was done, I finally spoke. “What would I need to do?”
“Bring me a story that will make the one that is brewing about your photos look like a speck of dust in this office. If you do, I’ll make sure that you don’t have to worry about this arrangement. Hell, if you want to leave town because of all of this, I’ll make that happen as well.”
Getting an opportunity to get the hell out of here and not having to deal with this party sounded like a miracle. I knew that shit was going to hit the fan with this engagement falling through, so getting out of Dodge sounded absolutely wonderful.
I licked my lips and swallowed as I tried to think of what story he could be thinking about. Sure, there were rumors about people in Brentson that circled the town, but what story would be a big enough story for him?
And then it dawned on me. The lightbulb moment that made me want to throw my hands to my mouth and scream.
“Are you talking about my father?”
When Tristan didn't make a move to confirm or deny what I'd said, I knew I had my answer.Could I find it within myself to betray my father if that was what it came down to?
Guilt tried to make an appearance, but I shoved it down, back to the depths of hell. I needed to worry about myself first, and this would be the first step. I slowly nodded my head and lifted my gaze to look Tristan Whitmore straight in the eye.
“You have yourself a deal.”
22
UNKNOWN
Iwas protected from the cold air that seemed to engulf New York City because of the small, rustic coffee shop I’d found a free table in. The walls were adorned with a vibrant collage of coffee beans from different regions of the world, and I was growing used to the smell of brewing coffee that filled the air. It was creating a cocoon of comfort against the cold, unforgiving weather outside.
I took a sip from my now lukewarm coffee but kept my eyes strained straight ahead. From my spot at a table near the window, I watched as Bianca disappeared into the upscale high-rise apartment building. From where I was, I could see that the lobby was made of a lot of marble and the security and attendants wore what looked to be expensive uniforms. But none of that forced my focus away from Bianca Henson.
I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing here at Tristan Whitmore’s building. The same Tristan Whitmore who had made his mark in the media and had more power due to his connections than any one person should have.
