The moment Tristan saw her, his heart skipped a beat. He couldn't help wishing he could just run over and pull her into his arms.

He looked at her with so much tenderness, his feelings practically bubbling over. His voice was soft and full of longing. “Emily, I miss you. I really do."

Emily leaned in a little, her face calm as she studied him through the screen. She heard the warmth in his tone, but only glanced at his eyes for a second before saying quietly, “Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

On the video call, Tristan was sprawled out on the sofa, bare-chested under the bright lights of the living room. The definition in his muscles stood out, the dips and lines of his abs and chest moving with every breath, radiating a kind of easy confidence that was hard to ignore. His good looks matched his body, too. Most women would have a hard time looking away.

Of course, this was all part of Tristan's plan.

Emily said she wasn't mad, but Tristan wasn't taking any chances. He figured a little visual distraction couldn't hurt, so he tried to charm her with his looks.

He didn't expect her to be completely unfazed. She was all business, just telling him to put on a shirt. It was like she didn't even notice what he was doing, so proper it almost felt unfair.

Tristan's hopes fizzled out. For a second, he didn't know what to say. "I...”

Emily's eyes narrowed as she took in the bruises on his torso, then looked back up at his face. His pale skin made the yellow ointment on his injuries even more obvious. At least nothing looked too serious.

Once she was sure, she relaxed a little and asked again, “So why aren't you dressed? It's freezing out. Aren't you cold?"

The little burst of happiness Tristan felt just kind of disappeared. He tried not to show his disappointment and mumbled, "I've got the heat on. I'm not cold. I just put

on some ointment, so I'm letting it dry for a bit before I get dressed."

Emily nodded slowly, then focused on the biggest bruise along his side. It was the darkest one, almost the size of her palm, and from the looks, of it, whoever hit him hadn't held back.

Her frown deepened. "Did you go to the hospital for a checkup?"

Tristan stared at her, looking for any hint of concern beyond her steady gaze, but she just seemed focused, and calm. He let out a sigh. "Yeah, I' did. Everything's fine."

She caught the tired look on his face. "What's wrong? Does it hurt a lot?”

Tristan immediately put on a wounded expression. "It really hurts. Andrew was way too rough."

He realized the way he said it sounded almost like a compliment, so he quickly added, “But honestly, I'm okay. Andrew probably ended up feeling worse than I did."

Emily gave him a look. "I'm not blaming you this time, but you can't keep doing this. Look at you. You know how much it hurts."

Tristan nodded right away. "I know. I'll be more careful."

"If it happens again, I'm really going to be mad," Emily warned.

He nodded again, eyes wide and pleading. "I get it. Really."

Even as he promised, he couldn't resist flexing a little, trying to show off his abs for

her, hoping she'd notice and maybe soften up.

But Emily was impossible to

distract. Her gaze never left his

bruises. When her eyes passed over

a particularly nasty one on his

stomach, Tristan held his breath and tightened his muscles, still trying to make an impression.