Tristan's POV
The moment I stepped through the front door, I smelled something cooking besides the aroma of coffee. Camille’s perfume mixed with garlic and rosemary. My jaw locked. And then I saw him. Rowan was sitting at my dinner table. He was holding a mug of coffee.
His suit jacket hung neatly on the back of his chair, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up like he was settling in for a comfortable evening. Camille was in the kitchen, back to us, humming as if this was some domestic, happy family scene. Elona stood beside me, her hand brushing my arm, as if she could already sense the fury coiling inside me. I didn’t bother to hide it.
“You didn’t show up at the Crane Industries board meeting this morning,” I said, my voice low and edged like glass. “And now I find you here.”
Rowan glanced up at me without an ounce of guilt. “Something came up.”
“Something came up?” I repeated, taking a step closer. “That meeting was about the Grace case, Rowan. The one that could drag this company through the mud. You being there was non-negotiable.”
He lifted a hand, dismissing my words like they were background noise. “Sit down, Tristan. You and Elona both. Camille, you too.”
I didn’t move at first. I wasn’t in the mood to play whatever game this was. But Elona gave me a small, cautious look, the kind of look that said please don’t make this worse. So I moved to the far side of the table and pulled out a chair, settling down across from Rowan. Elona slid into the seat beside me.
Camille took her sweet time coming over. She sauntered like she was walking into a photo shoot, hips swaying, silk blouse barely buttoned enough to pass for dinner attire. She dropped into the head of the table seat like it was her throne, then started tapping her index finger against the polished wood. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound drilled straight into my skull. “Stop,” I said sharply.
Her smile widened, slow and deliberate. “Why? Does it bother you?”
“You have no idea how much.”
“Oh, I think I do,” she purred, leaning forward. “You’ve always been so easy to read, Tristan.”
I was about to tell her exactly what I thought of that when Rowan’s voice cut in. “That’s enough. Both of you.” He looked between both of us.
I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to breathe through the heat in my blood. Rowan wasn’t just here for dinner. He was here for something bigger. “Camille will be living with you,” Rowan said evenly, like he was announcing the weather. “Legally. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
For a second, I thought I had misheard him. “Excuse me?” I said, my voice dropping into something dark. “You think you can walk in here and dictate-”
“It’s already done,” he interrupted. “She has rights in this matter, and it’s better you accept it than waste energy fighting me.”
Camille was smirking now, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded. “Told you so,” she said, her tone sing-song, like she had just won some kind of bet.
I shot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Enjoy the win while it lasts.” But Rowan wasn’t finished.
“And there is another thing,” he said, his eyes shifting to Elona. “Given the scale of the Grace case, and how public it will become, Elona should move out temporarily until it’s over.”
I slammed my hand against the table. Elona jumped in her seat with fright, which I didn't mean to scare her, but I was pissed off. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s for her protection,” Rowan said calmly. “The press will dig into every aspect of her life, the defense will try to discredit her, and your enemies will exploit her vulnerability. This way, we keep her out of the direct line of fire. Maybe even if she is part of this scandal.”
Camille leaned forward slightly, her lips curving. “I told you this would happen.”
I didn’t even look at her. My hand found Elona’s thigh under the table, my palm resting there in silent reassurance. Her posture was rigid. I turned my head to look at her, and my chest tightened. She looked… heartbroken. I couldn’t stand it.
“Rowan, no,” I said firmly. “I’m not letting her go through this alone, and I’m sure as hell not letting Camille live here while she’s forced out.” But before I could get further, Elona’s voice broke in, soft, but steady.
“They are right,” she said.
I whipped my head toward her. “No, they are not.”
“Yes, they are,” she insisted, her eyes meeting mine. There was sadness there, but also a kind of quiet determination. “If this is going to be as bad as they say, then maybe I should stay somewhere else for a while... My apartment. Just until after the court case. I am involved in this too, whether you like it or not, and I do think it's best that I move out for now.”
My stomach dropped like I had just been punched. “Elona...” I started, but she shook her head gently.
“I don’t want to make things harder for you, Tristan.”
She was doing it for me. She was willing to walk out of my home, our space, because she thought it would protect me. And that made me hate Rowan and Camille even more.
I turned back to Rowan, the fury boiling just beneath the surface. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. "But let’s be clear, the preliminary hearing is tomorrow. If you don’t show up, if you skip out on me again, I won’t just be angry. I will make damn sure you regret it.”
Rowan’s expression didn’t change. “I’ll be there.” Somehow, I didn’t believe him.
Rowan stayed over for dinner. The rest of dinner was an unbearable charade. Camille occasionally tried to bait me, tossing little barbed comments across the table, but I ignored her. My focus stayed on Elona, the way she kept her head down, the way she pushed her food around without eating much, the way her free hand occasionally brushed against mine under the table like she needed the contact as much as I did.
When it was finally over, Elona excused herself quietly, saying she needed some air. I watched her leave, my chest tight. Rowan was stacking his utensils, ready to make a clean exit. Camille just leaned back in her chair like she was settling in for a long stay.
I stood slowly, planting my hands on the table and leaning forward until my gaze locked with Rowan’s. “You’ve made your move, if you disappoint me tomorrow...” I said quietly. “Then you will be fired.”
Rowan didn’t respond, he just stood, grabbed his jacket, and walked toward the door. Camille’s smirk lingered. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, Tristan.”
I glared at her... I had an apple to peel with her.