Love,
Tristan
Love, Tristan. It should have read as a command, Love Tristan, since that was what it seemed like. I closed my laptop and decided then and there I wouldn't be available to talk at five or any other time that day.
I'd made the decision to go down this path and I was damned if I was going to be swayed from it by his soulful eyes, sweet words, and every other weapon in his arsenal of seduction. If I wasn't good enough to be seen with in public, then he wasn't going to see much of me in private either.
Chapter Twelve
It's amazing how being stubborn always made situations so much worse. I quickly found that I was playing in a much bigger league with Tristan than I was used to. After avoiding him all the previous day, if I was thinking that a new day would make everything better, I was sadly mistaken. It seemed that Tristan Stone could be very much the personification of his last name at times and quite able to deal out the silent treatment as well as he took it.
Unfortunately for me, I was more big talk than anything else and the plane ride in his private jet nearly broke my resolve. I'd only been on a plane twice before and never anyone's private jet, so my excitement made the words want to come bubbling up out of my mouth. What stopped them was Tristan's icy demeanor as he sat across from me, only rarely acknowledging my presence with a knowing look and never saying a thing to me the entire three and a half hours it took to get from New York to Dallas.
If I hated the feeling I'd had that night when he'd left to go to the charity benefit, I hated this more. It was like torture to be so close to him and know that he could basically ignore me even as I sat less than three feet away.
He even did the silent treatment well. I sat there across from him admiring how good he looked and wondered if there anything this guy wasn't incredible at.
By the time we arrived at the hotel, I was chomping at the bit to say something, anything, but his hard expression made it clear he didn't feel the same urge. So I remained silent.
The Richmont Dallas was every bit as luxurious as Tristan's New York hotel, even if it had a more distinctly western feel to it. I had no idea what suite I'd be working in and followed his lead as we made our way to the rooms on the ninth floor. When he finally stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, I hoped that now I could at least get lost in work.
Two steps in and I understood his joke from the restaurant. Whoever had designed the Presidential Suite at the Richmont Dallas had been in love with the color gold and all its varied golden hues. From the draperies to the upholstery to the carpet, the color gold was everywhere.
"Golden opportunity," I mumbled accidentally. "Funny guy."
I realized I'd broken my silence and turned to see him smiling at me. There was that warm smile that had a way of breaking down the walls I'd tried so hard to build around my heart. It went all the way up to his eyes, making the skin around them crinkle slightly at the corners.
"I have faith in you, Nina. All you have to do is find art that will make this room appear less gold."
Looking around, I wondered if he'd given me an impossible task. "Wouldn't it just be easier to redecorate?"
His smile grew wider. "Probably, but then I wouldn't have had any reason to bring you here to Dallas."
And with that he rendered me speechless again. I didn't want to be a slave to his charms. I just didn't have a choice.
Swallowing hard, I tried to keep myself all business. "Must I keep to any particular style or period?"
He shook his head. "No. Make your choices based on what you believe will complete this suite and take the attention away from all this gold."
"How many pieces can I choose? This suite is four rooms."
Tristan scanned the rooms in front of us. "As many as you like. My faith is entirely in you."
"Will we be staying here? There are two bedrooms, I see."
He moved around me and walked over to the bar. Pouring himself a drink, he lifted his glass in the direction of the two bedrooms. "So we're to continue our living arrangements from the house?"
His voice had an edge to it. He was unhappy about my insistence on making him understand how much he'd hurt me. I imagined he didn't have many people in his life who dared to do that. I also sensed he wasn't a man who liked being made to do anything.