Chapter 8–Where Were You This Morning

Natasha’s POV.

The house was quiet when I got home after my meeting with Tristan.

I went into the kitchen to make myself a coffee.

I moved around, reaching for the kettle and filling it with water.

I set the kettle down a little harder than necessary, turning it on as I leaned against the counter.

My fingers tapped lightly against the surface, absentmindedly while I waited, my mind refusing to stay still.

I pushed off the counter to grab a mug from the cabinet, setting it down as my thoughts drifted back to the cafe.

The kettle clicked off, cutting through the silence.

I straightened up immediately as I moved to pour the hot water into the mug, the steam rising in soft waves. The coffee dissolved instantly. I stirred it slowly, watching the spoon circle as if it had answers my thoughts didn’t.

I stopped stirring. The spoon clinked softly against the ceramic as I set it down.

My fingers curled slightly at my sides as the thoughts settled again, heavier this time. What was I thinking to have agreed to the marriage?

For a moment, I just stood there—staring at the mug like it might talk back if I waited long enough.

Then I picked it up. I took a small sip—careful at first, letting it burn just slightly on my tongue before I swallowed.

It didn’t help.

I set the mug down as I walked up the stairs, leading to my bedroom.

I shut the door behind me, exhaling softly.

It sounded almost unreal when I said it out loud at the cafe.

Even now, standing in my room, it still didn’t feel entirely real.

I walked further in, my movements controlled and deliberate. There was no point standing there thinking about it.

Not when I had work.

I grabbed my towel and headed straight for the bathroom.

The water ran over my skin, warm and steady, but it did nothing to quiet my thoughts.

His voice echoed instead.

“Because you will.”

The confidence in it.

I closed my eyes briefly, letting the water fall over my face.

He had said it like it was already decided.

And the worst part was I had proven him right.

My jaw tightened as I reached for the shampoo, forcing my thoughts elsewhere, but it didn’t last.

The way he had paused earlier felt like he was hiding something.

Something wasn’t right, and I could feel it.

I just hoped it wasn’t something crazy.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, I was already moving again.

No hesitation.

I got dressed quickly, opting for something simple but sharp. Something that matched the version of myself I needed to be today.

I picked up my bag and phone, glancing at the screen for a second before slipping it away.

The drive to the office was quieter than usual.

Is it just me or do the streets of Miami seem light? No traffic whatsoever.

Or maybe it felt that way.

Anyway, the office building stood tall as always. Nothing out of place. Nothing visibly wrong. It didn’t feel like it was falling apart.

Yet the moment I stepped inside, I felt it.

The kind of tension no one acknowledged but everyone felt.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

I nodded in response as I walked past, my expression neutral.

I got to my office and shut the door behind me, placing my bag on the desk before taking a seat.

For a moment, I just sat there.

Then I reached for the files in front of me, flipping through them.

Numbers. Reports.

Things I understood too well and could control.

A knock came on my door.

“Come in,” I said without looking up.

“Ma’am, your father wants to see you in his office.”

I blinked once, slowly, my fingers tightening slightly around the file.

What now?

I finally lifted my gaze toward the door. Anita, the secretary, stood there—neatly dressed, composed.

“How urgent?” I asked calmly.

“Now.”

Typical.

I let out a quiet breath through my nose, looking down at the files again.

I slowly set the file down.

“Alright,” I said finally.

Anita nodded once and stepped back, holding the door open for me to pass through.

I stood, then straightened as I walked out of my office.

I pushed the door to my father’s office open, my movements composed.

He was sitting behind his desk.

“Where were you this morning?” His voice was calm, but sharp.

“I had somewhere to be.”

There was a brief silence.

“Somewhere to be that early? You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t think I needed a permission," I said, folding my arms. 

Silence settled again.

“Did you meet him?”

There it was.

I didn’t answer immediately this time.

“Yes,” I said finally.

“And?” my father pressed.

I gave a faint shrug. “I agreed.”

He exhaled slowly. Almost like a relief.

“Good,” he said after a moment. “That’s… good, Natasha. Thank you.”

My expression didn’t change. But something about his response didn’t sit right either.

I studied him slowly.

I let a second pass before speaking again.

“There’s something else.”

His brows furrowed.

I continued anyway.

“I think Tristan is hiding something.”

My father didn’t answer immediately. His fingers paused briefly against the document in front of him.

He looked at me briefly. “You’re overthinking it.”

My brows pulled together. "Am I?”

“This is a business arrangement, Natasha,” he continued. “Focus on what matters.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Ah, okay. On what matters. I didn’t know I had been reduced to a business arrangement.”

“That’s not what—“

“You know what, Dad,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s fine. It’s too early to be going back and forth, don’t you think?”

I straightened slightly, my gaze sharpening.

“If that’d be all,” I continued. “I’d love to return to my office.”

I headed toward the door, stepping out of his office.

My thoughts scattered.

My father’s reaction wasn’t normal.

I expected him to be curious, but he wasn’t.

That was the problem. It unsettled me slightly.

Does my father know something I don’t?

I stood outside my office longer than necessary.

Something wasn’t right, and neither of them were telling the truth.