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 and set the kettle down harder than necessary. I leaned against the counter while it heated, my mind refusing to stay still.

The kettle clicked off. I poured the water and watched the coffee dissolve, and stirred slowly, the spoon circling like it might give me answers my thoughts didn’t.

What was I thinking, agreeing to the marriage? It was a failing company. Why would anyone need a marriage to stabilize it?

I stopped stirring. The spoon clinked against the mug. I took one sip that burned slightly and set it down. It didn’t help.

I headed to my bedroom. 

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. 

There was no point standing there thinking about it. 

Not when I needed to get back to work. Maybe somehow, I could figure out a way to get us out of this mess rather than getting married to some rich dude.

I went straight to the bathroom. 

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

I shut my eyes briefly, letting the water fall over my face. 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 unusually light? No traffic whatsoever. 

Or maybe it felt that way. 

Anyway, the 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, my fingers tightening slightly around the file. 

What now?

I finally lifted my head toward the door. Anita, the secretary, stood there. 

“How urgent?” I asked calmly. 

“Now.”

Typical. 

I exhaled through my nose, looking down at the file again, then slowly set it down. 

“Alright,” I finally said. 

Anita nodded once and stepped back, holding the door open for me to pass through. I stood and walked out of my office. 

I pushed the door to my father’s office open. 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 permission from you before going out,”I said, folding my arms.

Silence settled again. 

“Did you meet him?” 

There it was. 

I didn’t answer immediately this time. 

“Yes.”

“And?” my father pressed. 

I gave a faint shrug. “I agreed.”

He exhaled slowly. Almost like he was relieved. 

“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 closely. Then 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 said nothing. His fingers paused briefly against the document in front of him.

He glanced 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—”

“That is exactly what you meant, Dad.” I stood. “You know what? It’s fine. It’s too early to be going back and forth, don’t you think? If that’s all, I’d love to return to my office.”

I headed 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. 

Does my father know something I don’t? 

I stood outside my office longer than necessary. 

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