Page 64 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Fifty-Three

T ristan smirked, the kind that sent a slow, dark thrill down her spine. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Take your time.” His voice was smooth, a lazy command as he pressed a lingering kiss to her temple.

Victoria was still catching her breath, her body trembling from the aftershocks, when she reached for him. “Wh-what about you?” Her voice came out softer than intended, raw and spent.

Tristan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped out of the shower, water streaming down every defined muscle as he reached for a towel. Victoria barely had the sense to breathe as he dragged it over his chest, down his abs, every slow, deliberate motion making her stomach tighten.

Then he grabbed his jeans.

Her dazed mind barely processed the shift before her gaze locked onto the way he pulled them up over his hips, water still dripping from his hair.

Bastard.

Heat surged through her, a mix of mortification and frustration. “You?—”

Tristan only smirked, stepping closer, his hand catching her jaw with a featherlight grip.

“I told you, love. This was about you.” His breath was fire against her skin, his presence still overwhelming, even as he pulled back just enough to let his gaze flicker lower, a dark promise sparking in those wicked eyes.

“Besides…” He swiped his thumb over her swollen bottom lip, the corner of his mouth curling. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

And with that, he turned, walking out of the bathroom with the kind of unhurried confidence that made her want to throw something at him. Or drag him right back in.

Victoria emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, skin still warm from the shower. The scent of roses clung to the air, but it barely registered.

Because Tristan was pacing.

Jeans slung low on his hips, hair damp, bare chest rising and falling with restrained frustration. A phone was clutched in his grip, fingers flexing like he wanted to crush the damn thing.

“You’ve got three fights lined up for me tomorrow, each one guaranteed to make you millions, and now you want me to step into the ring tonight? For what, some pocket change?” His voice was smooth, edged with steelt. He already knew the answer.

Her stomach twisted.

She reached for him, and the moment her fingers curled around his, his grip tightened, just for a second, just enough to say ‘I see you’ before he let go.

A slow, humorless chuckle escaped him. “So tell me, why am I getting this call instead of Tyson?” His jaw clenched, his voice icy. “He wants the business more than I do. Hell, he already handles most of the business side for you.”

Tristan turned, closing the distance between them, and brushed his fingers over her cheek in a way so gentle it didn’t match the sharpness in his posture. But his eyes were cold. Calculating. Deadly.

Cassian’s voice crackled through the phone, measured and unimpressed. “You’ll do what’s required of you.”

Tristan’s shoulders rolled back, his muscles flexing like he was already brushing off the weight of the conversation.

“Will I?” His tone was almost lazy, but Victoria knew better.

The shift from biting amusement to pure, controlled aggression was palpable.

“Because from where I’m standing, you’re asking me for a favor.

” A pause. Then a dark, knowing smirk. “Which makes me wonder… what aren’t you telling me? ”

The silence on the other end stretched. Then Cassian exhaled sharply. “You’re fighting tonight. End of discussion.” His tone sharpened, a command meant to put Tristan in line. “Because you’re the one who needs to prove his loyalty.”

Victoria barely had a second to process that before Tristan laughed.

Like he had all the power in the world.

“That so?” His voice dropped to something lethal, something sharp enough to cut bone. “Funny thing about loyalty, it goes both ways. And if you don’t trust me by now, throwing me into another fight sure as hell won’t change that.”

Cassian’s voice rose. “If you don’t fight tonight and tomorrow, I’ll make sure my personal guys pay a visit. What’s her name again? Oh, that’s right…Grace.”

Her stomach turned to ice. She knew Cassian was testing him, pressing for any sign of weakness.

But Tristan didn’t react. He didn’t tighten his grip. Didn’t even blink.

No. He just smiled.

And that smile was terrifying.

“Let me make myself absolutely fucking clear.” The words were slow. Precise. Every syllable laced with something lethal.

His voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

“You touch her, and I’ll burn everything you’ve built to the ground. I’ll make sure they beg for an end that never comes.”

Silence.

“You forget, old man.” His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “I’m the most lethal thing you ever created.”

He hung up and turned to Victoria.

She could’ve argued. Should’ve. But instead, she let her breath hitch.

The air between them thickened.

“You don’t have to?—”

“I do.” His voice was steel wrapped in velvet. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means playing his fucking game. For now.”

A pause. His gaze burned into hers, dark and unyielding. A quiet, lethal promise.

“Make no mistake, love,” he murmured. “The second I get the chance, I’m flipping the board. Because no one—no one—threatens what’s mine and lives. That stands for my own father, too.”

Victoria swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at her to argue, to fight, to make him stay. But she wasn’t stupid. Not when it came to this. Not when it came to him.

Her throat tightened. “Will you be back?”

Tristan’s expression didn’t soften. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at the ball,” he assured. “I’ll be in black.”

She barely had time to breathe before he closed the distance, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. And then, just like that, he was pulling away, gathering his things and heading for the door.

His hand rested on the knob. A look back.

Without looking back, he gave a final command.

“Stay here.”

And then he was gone.