"I'm telling you," Andrew Lane's voice dropped, careless but utterly certain, "there's nothing to prepare. Just make sure Emily Blair comes back to the Lane estate in a few days."

Tristan Davis froze for a second, glancing down at Emily. “You're going back to the Lane estate?"

Emily nodded, her eyes steady. "Mr. Lane, I'll deliver your anniversary gift in a few days. I won't take up any more of your time today."

Tristan lowered his voice. "You're really going?"

She gave a slight nod, offering no further explanation.

Mr. Lane's gaze lingered on Tristan's hand still resting around Emily's waist. "Alright, but do you two need any help?"

Emily managed a small smile. "No need, Mr. Lane. I've got it under control. You go ahead."

This time, Andrew Lane made a clean, decisive exit.

They stood there, watching as his car disappeared down the drive. Emily finally turned away, her expression calm as she addressed Jack. “No point staring after him. If you can't fix it, call someone who can. Get a tow truck-keep an eye on things here. I'll grab a cab home."

Jack wiped his brow. "Of course, Miss Blair. Take care."

She nodded, walking off while pulling out her phone and opening the rideshare app. But before she could do anything, a hand shot out beside her, snatching the phone

away.

Emily let her arm drop, palm open at her side. "Give it back."

Tristan locked her phone and pressed it into her hand.

The moment she took it, he caught her wrist and pulled her sharply, leading her down the sidewalk in the other direction.

His pace was fast, almost frantic-she struggled to keep up, his grip tight enough to make her wrist ache.

She frowned. "Tristan, what the hell are you doing?"

He didn't answer. They reached a corner, and suddenly, he yanked her roughly.

The world spun. In a blink, Emily found herself pinned against a brick wall, Tristan standing so close his arm braced protectively between her head and the stone.

She shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them to find him looming over her. His face was dark, jaw set, striking eyes boring into her. Lips pressed in a hard, angry line—everything about his posture screamed that he was in a foul mood.

This interrogative stance made Emily bristle.

She refused to play along. "What's your problem now?"

Tristan's voice was raw, almost desperate. "You're really going to the Lane estate with Andrew Lane?"

"Yes, I am. So what?"

He pressed her harder, voice low and insistent. "When did you decide this? Did Andrew force you? Do you have to go?"

She scowled, impatience creeping in. "What, do you have a vendetta against his family?"

Tristan let out a cold laugh. "If Andrew Lane is forcing you, then yes, I do."

Emily hesitated. "Don't be ridiculous."

He shifted his feet, moving even closer. "Answer me. Did he make you do this? You haven't set foot in that house for five years. The second you see him, suddenly you're going back. Is he using the White Rabbit game rights to blackmail you?"

Emily took a calming breath. "No. No one's forcing me."

Tristan's laugh was bitter. "I don't believe you."

He repeated, voice harsher, "Emily Blair, I don't believe you."

"Emily, be honest. I don't want your lies."

A faint line appeared between her brows. "Tristan, why are you so nervous?"

His lips pressed tighter, face even colder. "Why don't you take a guess, Emily? Guess why I'm so on edge."

"I'm not guessing. It's just the Lane estate, not a lion's den. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Tristan gave an odd little laugh. "Really? If it's so harmless, then why did you run from Riven to the city? Why have you stayed away for five years, cut off all contact?"

Emily was silent for a moment.

Tristan stepped even closer, voice rough. "Tell me, Emily. Why do you think I'm so nervous?"

She met his stormy gaze, her heart giving an unexpected lurch.

"Because I care about you."