Page 51 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Forty-One

V ictoria stood there for a moment, her chest rising and falling, trying to steady her breath.

The air around her felt heavier now, charged with an unspoken tension that hadn’t been there before.

Tristan’s eyes were locked on hers, his gaze a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper that wasn’t entirely clear yet.

She felt exposed, raw in a way she hadn’t expected, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… real.

Tristan turned off the water, and in the sudden quiet, their eyes locked, his dark gaze soft yet knowing.

He reached for a towel, wrapping it securely around his waist, then pulled a fluffy robe from its hook.

Stepping out of the massive shower enclosure, he walked in front of her and draped the robe over her shoulders.

Victoria’s breath hitched. She opened her mouth to speak, to articulate the avalanche of sensations still cascading through her. “That was…” she began, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I know,” Tristan cut her off with a quiet murmur, placing his forehead gently against hers.

His words sank into her, making her heart ache in a way that both comforted and confused her. She wanted to say more, but her throat tightened, unable to voice the whirl of emotions swirling inside her.

“Come on,” Tristan finally spoke, breaking the silence. He reached out, gently pulling her away from the counter, and led her toward the kitchen. “Let’s get dressed and I’ll make breakfast.”

The soft sound of their footsteps echoed in the hallway as they walked downstairs, the silence between them now comfortable.

Dressed in another set of Tristan’s clothes, Victoria lifted the shirt to inhale deeply, clinging to its familiar scent a little longer.

Her mind was still processing, still reeling, but his presence grounded her.

She was no longer lost in the heat of the moment but in the quiet aftermath.

As they entered the kitchen, the morning light filtering through the windows felt almost surreal. Tristan opened the fridge and pulled out ingredients, maintaining a casual air as if nothing had changed. But Victoria knew something important had shifted.

“Coffee?” he asked, already starting to prepare it. She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she needed the caffeine.

Leaning against the counter, she watched him move around the kitchen. “Yes, please,” she replied.

Tristan’s brief smirk surfaced as he added, “How do pancakes with a berry compote sound?”

Victoria laughed softly. “Okay, seriously. Who are you, and what happened to Tristan?” After everything that had just happened, this small moment of lightness was a welcome breath of fresh air.

Tristan’s laugh sent a flutter through her stomach as he slid a steaming coffee mug into her hands.

She wrapped her fingers around it, soaking in the warmth before making her way to the island and taking a seat.

Meanwhile, Tristan finished mixing the pancake batter, his movements easy and practiced.

She hadn’t even noticed when he turned on the range, but now the pan was hot, ready.

With effortless ease, he poured the batter, flipping the first pancake with a flick of his wrist. The scent of buttery batter and sweet berries filled the kitchen.

He moved like he belonged there, like he wasn’t a man who spent most of his time in a ring, covered in sweat and blood.

She smirked, taking a small sip of her coffee. “I have to ask…when did you become a damn chef?”

Tristan shot her a cocky grin, pouring more batter onto the skillet. “I’ve got layers, love. Keep peeling, you might just like what you find.”

Victoria rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips. “Alright, mystery man. Since we’re doing this whole breakfast thing, let’s make it interesting. Twenty-one questions.”

Tristan raised a brow. “Oh, we’re playing games now?”

“Unless you’re scared?” she teased, tilting her head.

Tristan let out a low chuckle, setting the spatula down. “Alright. Hit me.”

She took a sip of her coffee, thinking. “Okay. What’s your go-to comfort food?”

“Easy. A good steak.”

Victoria laughed. “Of course. You’re such a guy.”

“My turn,” Tristan said, leaning against the counter. “What’s something people assume about you that’s completely wrong?”

Victoria hesitated, fingers tightening around her mug. “That I’m too soft.”

Tristan studied her for a second, his gaze unreadable, but he didn’t push. Instead, he smirked. “Your turn.”

She exhaled, grateful for the shift. “What’s one thing you’re afraid of?”

Something flickered in Tristan’s expression, but his phone buzzed against the counter. He ignored it, eyes still locked on hers.

Victoria let the moment stretch, but the phone buzzed again. And then again.

Tristan groaned, pushing the answer button and putting it on speaker. “What, asshat? You’re interrupting.”

A voice on the other end, sharp and familiar, snapped back. “Bro, you fucked up something last night, and Dad is blowing steam. You need to get here. Now.”

Tristan’s jaw tightened, his posture shifting, and just like that,the lightness in the room evaporated. The look Tristan shot Victoria told her everything.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Victoria set her mug down, watching him closely. “Tristan?”

What do I do?

“I’ll be there in a little bit. I’m finishing breakfast first.” Tristan didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

When he turned back to Victoria, the lighthearted man from moments ago was gone. In his place stood the cold, controlled version of him she was far too familiar with. The one who didn’t waste words, who made people nervous with just a look.

“We’re going to eat, and then I need you to explain what happened last night.”

Without another word, he turned back to the stove, casually plating their food like he hadn’t just given her whiplash.