16

Tristan was sitting on the sofa with a book in his hand, his wet hair falling over his eyes as he glanced at the digital clock on the table in front of him. It blinked nine.

Tristan frowned at the clock because as far as he knew, Florence is usually done with her classes before six in the evening and in extreme cases by seven.

He hadn't had his dinner yet and he was looking at the door far too often. He didn't know why he was acting protective towards her , maybe because she was his responsibility or maybe because she is too young to be in his world. Not to forget that she would be an easy target for his enemies . He didn't even want to think about the circumstances.

Just as he was about to call Florence, the door of his penthouse opened and in came Florence, who looked as if she was about to faint any second.

A bile raised in Tristan's throat as he immediately stood from his place and threw the book carelessly on the sofa.

"Where were you?" Tristan asked as he walked towards he