I smile when I hear how much he sounds like his brother. I open the door. “Jameson asked me to . . .” I pause as I try to make it sound nicer than how it came out.
“He wants to see me?” Tristan smirks.
“Yes.”
He stands. “Everything okay?” he asks casually as we begin to walk back to reception.
“He’s . . .” I shrug as I try to think of a description. “Agitated.”
“Hmm.” He frowns as if concerned. “He has a lot going on, but you already know that.”
“Yes.” I smile as my eyes hold his. Does he know?
He winks as he walks down the corridor toward Jameson’s office. “Catch you later.”
What was that wink? Was that code for “I know you f**k him”? Does he know we are back together?
Shit.
The receptionist isn’t at her desk, and I glance down the hallway toward Jameson’s office. Damn it, what’
