Chapter 109 Dominance
Five months ago, he would have demanded the truth. He would have checked the security logs. He would have interrogated the foreman.
Today, he took a deep breath.
"Okay," Tristan said softly.
He walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a loose hug. He didn't press the issue. He didn't try to control the narrative. He gave me the space to tell him on my own terms.
It was a staggering display of the trust we were building in Dr. Evans’s office.
I rested my forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The guilt of lying to him flared, hot and sharp. He was trying so hard to be the partner I needed, and I was still acting like a frightened wife hiding secrets.
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the sleek white business card, and held it out between us.
"Elias Vance was here," I confessed, my voice quiet.
Tristan looked at the card. He didn't snatch it from my hand. He didn't yell. A muscle in his jaw ticked, the only physical sign of the intense spike of jealousy I knew he was feeling.
"How did he get past the gate?" Tristan asked, his tone remarkably measured.
"He knows the engineering team," I explained. "He bypassed the main checkpoint."
"I'll have Davis tighten the protocols," Tristan noted calmly. He finally reached out and took the card from my fingers, examining the minimalist logo. "What did he want?"
"He wanted to offer me a partnership in his new boutique firm," I said, watching Tristan’s face closely. "He said I needed an escape hatch."
Tristan’s eyes flicked from the card to my face. The amber was dark, burning with a complex mix of possessiveness and fear.
"An escape hatch," Tristan repeated, the words tasting bitter. "From me."
"Yes."
The silence stretched in the unfinished room. I could see the internal struggle playing out across his features. The Titan wanted to crush Elias Vance. He wanted to buy the new boutique firm before it even launched. He wanted to build a higher wall around the estate to keep everyone else out.
But the man who was sitting on Dr. Evans’s couch twice a week was fighting back.
Tristan took a slow, deep breath, visibly forcing the tension out of his shoulders.
"It's a good offer," Tristan said quietly, handing the card back to me.
I stared at him in shock. I didn't take the card.
"What?" I asked.
"He's an excellent architect," Tristan continued, though the praise clearly cost him. "And a boutique firm focused entirely on residential design would give you incredible creative freedom. If that's what you want, Mina, it's a solid career move."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He wasn't forbidding it. He wasn't throwing money at me to stay. He was acknowledging my professional autonomy.
"You're not angry?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"I'm furious," Tristan admitted, a wry, self-deprecating smile touching his lips. "I want to track him down and break his nose for coming near you. I am violently, irrationally jealous of the fact that another man gets to look at your work and see how brilliant you are."
He stepped closer, his hands resting gently on my hips.
"But I promised you a partnership," Tristan said, his eyes burning with absolute sincerity. "And a partner doesn't trap you. A partner supports your choices, even when it terrifies him."
He looked down at the card still pinched between his fingers.
"If you want to take the job, Mina, I'll back you," he vowed. "I won't interfere. I won't buy his company again. I'll just be the man waiting for you when you come home from your new office."
The tears sprang to my eyes instantly.
It wasn't a grand, sweeping gesture. It wasn't a multimillion-dollar retaliation. It was something infinitely more powerful. It was the absolute, terrifying surrender of control.
"I don't want the job," I said, my voice thick with emotion.
I reached out, took the business card from his hand, and tore it in half, letting the pieces fall to the sawdust-covered floor.
Tristan let out a long, ragged exhale, his eyes closing in profound relief.
"You don't?" he breathed.
"No," I said, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, pulling him down to me. "I don't want an escape hatch, Tristan. I want to build this house with you. And when it's done, I want to keep building Veridian with you."
He crushed me against his chest, burying his face in my neck, holding me with a desperate, fierce gratitude.
"Thank God," he murmured against my skin. "Because being an adult is fucking exhausting."
I laughed, a wet, breathless sound, pulling back to kiss him.
He kissed me back, the restrained jealousy finally bleeding into the kiss, turning it hot and demanding. He tasted like relief and absolute devotion.
"I'm going to have Davis fire that entire engineering team," Tristan growled against my mouth, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs.
"Tristan," I warned playfully. "Partnership, remember?"
"I am partnering with Davis to ensure unauthorized men don't wander onto my construction site and hit on my lead architect," he countered smoothly, lifting me slightly until my feet left the floor. "It's a security issue."
I couldn't help but laugh again. The Titan wasn't entirely dead. He was just leashed. And I held the leash.
"Put me down," I said, swatting his shoulder lightly. "I have to finish the lighting review."
He lowered me slowly, letting my body slide against his, ensuring I felt the exact physical effect the confrontation was having on him.
"Finish the review," Tristan agreed, his voice a low, gravelly hum. "I'll be in the temporary office. Don't take too long."
"Or what?" I challenged.
"Or I might forget all my therapy breakthroughs and come distract you," he promised, his amber eyes flashing.