Tristan's POV
I leaned against the car door, waiting for Ivory to step out of the suite, my phone pressed to my ear as I barked orders with frustration.
Then I saw her—ivory. She stood in front of me. Instantly, my anger dissolved, and I hung up the call. I stood there staring at her; she looked incredible in that flowing wine dress, the gold stones catching the light. I'd told the store to send their absolute best, and truly, they delivered. My gaze remained fixed on her.
She cleared her throat, snapping me out of my thoughts. I opened the passenger door for her, helped her get in, then made my way to the driver's seat, to start driving.
Throughout the ride, her gaze stayed fixed on her lap, as if she found something fascinating there. She kept fidgeting with her fingers, her palms slick with sweat, her body trembling slightly. It was clear she was uneasy. I kept stealing glances over at her, concern gnawing at me.
Hours later, we finally pulled up at a private restaurant. I got out
