S H A D E S

Flames to Dust...

Despite the horrible events surrounding Percy's nefarious depravity, I'd never seen my family so banded together. So harmonious. Even Helen, who had always struck me as cold and embittered, transformed in light of what we'd all learned. She and Collin, united in fierce love for their son, agreed that they needed to work together, for his sake, and come to terms.

Nate was no longer going to be sent away, and instead they were going to seek out counselling as a family, to learn not only how to overcome this personal tragedy, but how to communicate and work together.

To heal.

Whatever my personal thoughts about the woman, I was pleased to see that somewhere inside that skinny body, there was a heart. My father, I knew, was going to have a tougher time of it; as the patriarch and head of our family tree, he took these sorts of things personally. He would blame himself.

For not seeing. For not suspecting. I think on some level, we all would wrestle with our own degrees of guilt. And though I worried about him, I drew comfort in knowing that Sheila would be by his side to comfort him through the harder days. As our Ronin's longest standing employee and most trusted friend, no one knew my father better.

Tristan and I had two more glorious days at Ronin Estates before the real world invariable encroached in upon our oasis, dragging us back to work and responsibility. I arrived to a phone full of messages, an overburdened email and a couple stray fires I needed to stomp out, but all my thoughts were muzzy, hazed in a euphoric glow.

Things had changed between us, since that first breathless kiss.

He was different. Changed.

Tristan seemed easier. Lighter. He laughed more. Smiled often. And at nights made love to me with a passionate urgency as only a man embracing his vulnerability could.

Sitting behind my computer, I lazily skimmed through a summer edition of Vera Wang, and grinned like a giddy idiot.

I'd become one of those wedding daydreaming idiots I'd always used to despise and could never understand. Yet, now I did. I was completely, irrevocably, head over heels in love and without a single care in the world. Because I knew he loved me too. Though we had yet to say the words—what did it matter? I knew what had happened between us that night he told me of Ailish was a mark of something only a man and woman in love could have possibly experienced.

He'd trusted me. Confided in me. Shared something that had scored so deep I'd all but smelled blood in the air to mix with his emotional grief. And that kiss, along with all the kisses afterwards, said everything I needed to know.

"Yes, yes I understand. I know you were hoping to speed up the timeline, but I can't push ahead a week without—" Sighing, I rolled my eyes heavenward and prayed for strength as some pompous CFO in London proceeded to rip my head off and tell me how to do my job when my email flicked open, flashing a new message.

A calendar invite from Marcia on behalf of Tristan, set for—now—with a terse, direct message set into the notes leapt on my screen.

Your presence is required in Mr. Shade's office. Immediately.

I scowled at the screen, checked my watch. After a week away from the office, keeping to minimal connectivity while I was away, I had come in earlier to clear the deck. Tristan was an early riser, much like myself, but I knew he preferred to keep his mornings unobstructed. Making his request to see me even more puzzling.

And why wouldn't he have contacted me himself when he'd always done so before. Going through Marcia was...unusual.

Pushing my way from my desk, I made my way up the three flights to his corner suite. Marcia's desk—oddly enough—was left unattended, though a steaming mug of what I could only assume was green tea, said she wasn't far away.