Chapter 12

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I woke up to the softest sheets I’d ever felt, the kind that practically swallowed you whole. My eyes cracked open, and for a second, I forgot where I was.

But then it hit me, fast and hard.

This wasn’t my bed.

My body jerked upright, my head whipping around as the memories of last night came flooding back—Tristan, Mr. Price, his arms around me pulling me away.

*He saved me.* I gasped

I hadn’t needed saving, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself. Yet, there I was, alone in a bed that wasn’t mine, in a room far too big and far too cold for comfort.

I kicked off the covers and swung my legs over the side, my feet hitting cool marble. The room was massive, sleek, and sterile in that way only people with too much money could appreciate. It was the kind of place that screamed luxury, but it lacked warmth--just like the man who owned it.

Tristan....where was he?

I stood up slowly, feeling that familiar sting in my chest as I glanced around. No note. No sign of him. Just the faint smell of sandalwood and whatever ridiculous cologne rich men doused themselves in. I shouldn’t have cared.

"Why the hell would I care?" I muttered, But the truth was, a small part of me.....some .....stupid... weak part...had hoped he’d still be here.

Maybe he’d explain why he did what he did. Maybe he’d even check on me.

*Nope. He was gone.*

Of course he was. He probably had some important CEO meeting or a model waiting for him in Paris or wherever men like him disappeared to when they got bored.

I walked across the penthouse, my bare feet silent against the marble as I wandered into what I guessed was the living room. Every inch of this place screamed wealth and power. From the stupidly expensive art on the walls to the panoramic view of the city below.

But all it did was remind me how far apart we were. How out of place I felt. He probably didn’t even think twice about leaving me here. Hell, I bet he didn’t think about me at all.

"Good. That’s how it should be."

"I don’t care. I don’t care that he’s gone. I don’t care that he didn’t leave a message." I told myself again. He wasn’t supposed to be someone I cared about anyway.

Tristan Agress wasn’t my hero.

He was my target. And whatever confusing emotions I felt, I needed to squash them.

Fast.

But damn it, the more I told myself I didn’t care, the more that little voice in my head whispered, *Maybe you wanted him to care just a little.*

I’m such an idiot.

I wasn’t here to get tangled up with him. I was here to do a job, and that job was to get close enough to take him down. Get in, get out. No feelings, no attachments, no complications. Tristan was supposed to be my ticket out of this mess, not someone to daydream about.

I gritted my teeth, pushing away the sting of his absence as I wandered through his ridiculously perfect penthouse. How could anyone actually live in a place like this? It felt more like a showroom than a home. It was big, cold, and empty.

Just like him.

Before I could spiral any further into thoughts I didn’t want to have, a woman’s voice sliced through the silence like a knife. “Mr. Agress left hours ago.”

I turned to see a tall woman standing in the doorway, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing at me like I was some piece of dirt she needed to wipe off her designer shoes. The assistant. I could tell from the stiff posture, the judgmental tone. Her whole aura screamed *You don’t belong here*.

“No message for you,” she added, her voice practically dripping with disdain. “It would be best if you leave.”

I stared at her for a beat, letting her words hang in the air. No message. No sign of him. And now his assistant was kicking me out like I was nothing.

My chest tightened with anger, but I forced a smile onto my face. “I was just leaving,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut. I wasn’t about to let her see me crack. I’d been through too much to let some snobby assistant get under my skin.

Without another word, I made my way to the door. I didn’t bother glancing around the penthouse again. I was done here. Done with Tristan, done with his world, done with whatever stupid feelings I’d been stupid enough to entertain for even a second.

As the door clicked shut behind me, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding

I waved for a taxi and took myself home, adjusting my dress the whole ride , I tipped the driver as we came to a halt toward my gates.

But the second I stepped outside and spotted the black sedan parked in front of my house, my stomach twisted.

The car. The one the boss had arranged for me last night. The driver must have felt I never showed up. my mouth exhaling a sigh

Of course.

It was still sitting there, like a giant, embarrassing reminder of just how little I mattered in Tristan Agress’s world. He couldn’t even bother to check if I’d made it home.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat as I stared at the sleek black car, mocking me from the curb. This was what I got for letting myself think, for even a second, that there could be anything more to this.

"Screw him."

This was just a job. I had to remember that. Tristan Agress wasn’t a man to fall for. He was just a stepping stone, a pawn in my game. He didn’t matter. He couldn’t matter. And if I had to remind myself of that a thousand times a day, then so be it.

I squared my shoulders, walking past the car without a second glance.

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The door slammed shut behind me as I stormed into the mansion, my heart racing and emotions swirling.

I had been saved by the very man I was supposed to con, only to find myself abandoned in his lavish penthouse.

"What an asshole" I thought bitterly. The taste of humiliation still lingered on my tongue, a bitter reminder of how quickly things could shift from fantasy to reality.

The mansion felt too large and too empty as I paced the marble floors. I ran my fingers along the polished surfaces, trying to ground myself in the present.

Memories of the gala flooded my mind, the laughter, the whispers, and the moment when Tristan had taken my arm, guiding me through the crowd. It felt like a fairytale, but now it was tainted by the harsh truth of his absence.

He had just vanished, leaving me to deal with the fallout of being left alone in the home of a man who seemed to think I was just another passing interest.

"No, he’s not supposed to matter to me" I reminded myself fiercely. "I can’t afford to let him in. He’s my ticket out of this mess, nothing more."

As I settled into the plush couch, I felt a mixture of frustration and anger bubbling within me. The luxury around me was suffocating, a constant reminder of what I was supposed to be achieving. I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on my plan.

If I couldn’t have Tristan’s attention in person, I’d make sure to grab it another way.

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