Page 57 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Forty-Seven

A s the conversation flowed, Victoria found herself... relaxing. It was unnerving, really. She’d never done this. Never sat across from someone in a candlelit restaurant, letting herself feel wanted without a hidden agenda or an underlying threat.

Tristan noticed the shift, tilting his head as he studied her.

"What’s going on in that head of yours?" His voice was quieter, all the teasing stripped away.

Victoria hesitated, running a finger along the rim of her glass. "I’m just…this isn’t normal for me."

"A man taking you to dinner?"

"A man wanting to take me to dinner." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted how raw they sounded.

Tristan didn’t laugh. He didn’t smirk. Instead, he reached across the table, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. His grip was steady, grounding.

"Then let’s get one thing straight, love. There’s nothing normal about me." His voice drops lower, darker. "And there’s nothing about you that deserves anything less than this."

The intensity of his gaze made her breath again, but before she could respond, his phone buzzed. His entire expression shifted slightly, but enough that she noticed.

"I need to take this." His fingers squeezed hers once before he pulled away, standing from the table.

The second Tristan disappeared toward the back of the restaurant, Victoria took a slow breath, forcing herself to settle.

But she didn’t get long.

"Well, this is unexpected."

The voice dripped with something sickly sweet, and Victoria knew immediately that she would regret turning around.

A tall, perfectly manicured brunette stood by the table, arms crossed, looking down at her like she’s something to be scraped off her designer heels.

"You must be the new weekly interest," the woman said, lips curling into a smirk. "Though I have to admit, I didn’t think Tristan’s type had changed so... drastically."

Victoria tilted her head, offering a slow, sharp smile. "And you are?"

The woman flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Lena. Ex-girlfriend. And you?"

Is this bitch serious?

Victoria leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting. "Your current problem."

Lena let out a low laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, sweetie. You have no idea."

The brunette’s smirk didn’t falter under Victoria’s sharp gaze. Instead, she slid into the seat across from her like she belonged there, as if Victoria was the one intruding on her night.

“By all means, take a seat.” Unimpressed, Victoria folded her arms and stared her down. "What do you want?"

Lena smiled, crossing her long gorgeous legs. "I had a thought…"

"You better be careful with those," Victoria cut in smoothly. "They haven’t helped you much so far.”

“Cute.” Lena’s smile faltered for a split second before she recovered, but Victoria saw and felt it. And damn, it was satisfying.

"Enjoying the view?" Victoria hummed, watching Lena brows lifting like she’s still deciding whether or not to be amused.

"I mean, I had to see for myself who Tristan’s latest... distraction is."

Victoria scoffed, taking a slow sip of her drink. "Wow. You talk a lot for someone who’s irrelevant."

Lena’s lips twitched, but Victoria didn’t miss the brief flicker of irritation in her eyes.

"You’re feisty. I can see why he’s entertained. For now." The woman tapped her manicured nails against the table. "But you should know something about Tristan, sweetheart. He collects things. And when he gets bored, he tosses them aside without a second thought."

Victoria didn’t flinch. If this woman thought she could plant doubt, she was sorely mistaken. Instead, she tilts her head, amusement curling at the edges of her lips.

"And let me guess," she drawled, "you thought you were the exception?"

Lena bristles. Bingo.

Victoria leaned forward just slightly, her voice dipping into something soft yet lethal.

"You must have been really fun while you lasted." She gave her a pitying smile. "Shame it wasn’t long enough to make an impression. On him. Or anyone else, apparently."

Lena’s jaw tightened, her composure slipping just enough to satisfy Victoria.

"You have no idea what you’re getting into," she hissed, standing abruptly.

Victoria lifted her glass in a mock toast, voice laced with amusement. "Then I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?"

Before Lena could get another word in, Tristan’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Find out what exactly?"

Both women turned. Tristan stood behind Lena, his face closed-off, but his posture screamed authority. His gaze flicked between the two of them before landing on Victoria, scanning her expression like he’s making sure she’s okay.

Victoria shrugged, completely unbothered. "Oh, just girl talk."

Tristan’s jaw clenched, and then his attention shifted, finally settling on his ex. His lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. “Lena Foxwood,” he said, each syllable tasted worse than the last.

Ah. So like Foxwood Holdings. Well damn

Lena straightened, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Tristan.”

He looked through her, not at her. His gaze didn’t waver. Without a hint of hesitation, he moved straight past her, heading directly for Victoria.

“Let’s go.” His voice was low and firm, like it was the only thing that mattered. He reached for Victoria’s hand, pulling her gently to her feet.

Before they could take a step, Lena scoffs, the sound sharp in the silence between them.

"You can’t be serious. Her?"

Tristan turned, finally looking at Lena directly. And damn, if looks could kill...

Tristan’s gaze flickered to her, but there was nothing in his eyes except cold calculation. His voice was low, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’ve got any room to breathe in this conversation.”

Lena visibly swallowed, her facade cracking slightly.

“We’re done here.”

Victoria didn’t even glance back as Tristan led her away, her steps purposeful and steady. She knew Lena was still standing there, simmering with frustration, but she wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Where are we going?” Victoria asked, her voice calm, almost detached, as Tristan pulled her down the long hallway, his grip firm around her hand.

Without answering, Tristan pulled her into the elevator, his jaw set, the tension between them palpable. The doors closed, and as they descended, the silence was thick with unspoken thoughts.

“So, I’m guessing you won’t elaborate on whatever relationship you had with Lena, huh?” She glanced at him, her gaze sharp, taking in how his jaw is clenched so tight, it looked painful.

Tristan’s eyes flicked to hers for a brief moment, but he didn't answer. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. He took her hand again, leading her out toward the big glass doors.

The bike was exactly where it was left, sitting silently in the dark, awaiting him. Tristan dropped her hand and strode over to it, grabbing the keys with a swift motion.

Victoria couldn’t help but notice the way he moved. The effortless command in his broad shoulders, the quiet power coiled beneath his skin. There was a rawness to him now, something simmering just beneath the surface, barely restrained. Controlled anger. Dark intent.

Tristan swung a leg over the bike, the motion fluid, practiced. With one swift motion, he pulled the kickstand up, glancing at her over his shoulder. His eyes caught hers through the visor, a simmering hunger crackling in the space between them.

"Get on," he said, his voice edged with restrained dominance, holding the helmet in one hand and the other outstretched so she could take it

“Are you going to tell me what shifted in you, or should I start guessing?”

“Not here. Not now. Get on.”

Victoria hesitated. She stepped forward, grabbing his offered hand, her heels clicking against the pavement as she swung her leg over the back of the bike. She slid into place behind him, the proximity of his body sending her pulse racing.

The moment they’re settled, Tristan started the engine, the roar of it vibrating through her as he pulled away from the curb. His body was tense, but purposeful, and Victoria felt the power beneath them as they raced through the night.

There was something about the wind, the rush of movement, and the raw energy of the ride that made her feel alive in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Tristan’s grip on the throttle was steady. His quiet confidence spoke volumes, filling the space between them with subtle intensity.

She leaned in closer, the heat of his body against hers sparking a tension in the air.

The city streets blurred into a haze of lights and shadows as they navigated the night.

Tristan’s arm brushed against hers, and he glanced back for just a second, his eyes locking with hers before he looked ahead again.

Tristan turned his head at the red light, a smirk playing on his lips. Before she could react, his hand slid up her thigh, firm and possessive. Her breath caught, heat rushing through her at the simple, confident touch.

"Are you sure you trust me?" His voice was rough with desire.

Victoria exhaled shakily. "With my life."

The light cast a glow over them, flickering against the sleek metal of the bike. Tristan revved the engine, the deep growl vibrating through her, through both of them. And then, without warning, his grip tightened on her thigh, firm and unyielding.

“Come here,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly, leaving no room for hesitation.

Victoria barely had time to process before he shifted his weight, his body coaxing hers forward.

Instinct took over. She moved, sliding against him, her chest pressed into his back as she swung her leg over with careful precision.

The moment she settled, straddling him, face to face, his hands found her hips, claiming her.

Her breath came in shallow bursts, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the crisp night air whipping around them. The bike hummed beneath them, the world beyond dimming into insignificance.

“Hold tight,” Tristan murmured, his smirk deepening, dark eyes locked onto hers.

The light flickered green.

He rolled the throttle, and the bike surged forward, swallowing them into the night. The city lights blurred behind them, neon streaks bleeding into the pavement as he picked up speed. The wind bit at her skin, but all she felt was him. Solid, scorching, and impossible to ignore.

The rush was dizzying and intoxicating. The sheer power of the bike, the reckless intimacy of their position, the way his grip tightened on her waist every time she shifted against him.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the delicate skin of her cheek between each long stretch of road. Soft. Teasing.

A shiver raked through her, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

His voice filtered through to her, barely audible over the roar of the engine but cutting through her like a blade.

“I should be focusing on the road, but all I can think about is how good you’d feel losing yourself under me.” His fingers flexed on her waist, tightening like he already knows she’s his to ruin. “And trust me, love, I plan to take my time proving it to you.”

Her breath stuttered, her grip on his jacket tightening.

And Tristan? He just smirked, pressing the throttle like he’s not setting her whole world on fire.

By the time they reached the lookout, Victoria was barely holding onto control. The bike slowed to a stop, the night stretching out around them, vast and quiet, the city lights flickering far below.

Tristan kicked the stand down, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The tension between them was thick, electric.

She wasn’t waiting anymore. She took off the helmet and crashed her lips against his, desperate and unrestrained, letting all her longing spill into the kiss.

Tristan groaned, his grip tightening on her thighs as he pulled her closer, pressing her against him. And when she finally broke away, breathless, he looked at her with dark and dangerous eyes.

"Do that again," he warned, voice thick with restraint, "and I'll take you right here and now, over my bike."

Victoria trailed a slow finger down his chest. Tempting. Too tempting.

Her lips parted like she might say something else, but she just smirked.

"Bet?"