Chapter 3 His First Kiss
Tristan's deep gaze locked onto her pale face, a sigh slipping out from his nose. "I'll trust you... just this once."
Megan blinked those innocent eyes at him, gently shaking the cuff still attached to the bedpost.
His sharp brows furrowed, clearly hesitating.
After a beat of silence, he finally made up his mind, pressing both thumbs onto the fingerprint locks of her handcuffs.
A soft "beep" sounded, and the cuffs released with a clack, dropping onto the bed.
Now free, Megan rubbed her reddened wrists and stretched them a bit.
She wondered, "Damn. Not even I could crack these—talk about next level. And last time… I'm the one who tricked him into opening them.... …Guess I'll have to ask him again. Ugh.."
Megan suddenly smirked. "Where'd you get these cuffs? I swear, if I find out who made them, I'm gonna make sure they never design anything again."
Tristan cleared his throat lightly. "Some tech guy."
Yup, same answer, same tone. Lazy, as usual.
But whatever. Unlocked is good enough.
Megan leaned in and gave his cool lips a quick peck. "Thanks for believing me again."
That kiss sent a shockwave straight through him, blood surging. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously.
His first real kiss.
Assuming that time with the CPR didn't count.
He suddenly looked awkward, ears turning a slight shade of red. "Um...Oh, I'll ask Mrs. Jones to whip you up something. She'll bring it by later. I've got a meeting at the office—I'll head out now."
He turned quickly and made for the door.
When he got to the door, his hand paused on the knob.
He glanced back at her face—the one he loved most—then rushed out as if making a getaway.
Megan's eyes misted up watching him go, his tall frame vanishing from view.
God really gave her a second shot at life.
A second chance to make things right with him.
Her gaze darkened, killing intent brewing.
The debts of her past life—she was going to settle every last one.
♥
A sleek black Maybach sped down the road toward Reid Corp.
In the driver's seat, Cameron Brooks adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and happened to glance at the rearview mirror—only to get hit with a spook.
The usually stone-faced boss was... smiling?
That was rarer than hitting the lottery.
He'd been Tristan's assistant for five whole years and never once seen this man crack a grin.
Was the boss losing it, thanks to that drama queen back at the estate?
"Cameron, focus on driving," came the flat voice from the back. "You're not a reaction meme."
Cameron's lip twitched. Was he being that obvious?
Tristan's little grin stayed plastered on his face all the way to the company entrance.
Once parked, Cameron hopped out and opened the door for him.
The two stepped into the building and headed into the exclusive CEO elevator.
Just before the doors closed, a woman's designer clutch slipped in to block them.
A curvy, seductive beauty stepped forward, her voice like warm honey. "Mr. Reid, wait up."
The air dropped ten degrees instantly. Tristan's smile vanished like smoke, and his eyes shot daggers.
His voice was cold as ice, laced with anger. "Get out."
Clearly lacking the slightest self-preservation, the woman slid one leg into the elevator.
"Toss her."
"Got it," Cameron responded without missing a beat, now full-on bodyguard mode.
He grabbed her without a hint of mercy and shoved her out the door.
Then he calmly hit the close button.
"Better disinfect the whole elevator."
"On it."
Honestly, this kind of thing happened so often, he'd lost track. Disinfecting the elevator had become part of the daily schedule.
What a mystery that Megan girl was. Wild as she was, she had the boss wrapped around her finger.
And this was the richest man in the empire we were talking about—he could have any woman he wanted.
But nope. He had to fall for someone who didn't even like him back.
While Cameron was still busy trying to figure out that riddle, a cold voice pulled him back.
"The 88th floor. Did you press it?"Cameron cleared his throat awkwardly, hand clenched into a fist. "Uh, sorry, sir. I'll handle it right now."
"If you show up at work with just your head next time, don't bother coming."
"Yes, sir!"
A chill ran down Cameron's spine the moment he heard that. Sweat instantly broke out on his back.
The elevator doors slid open. Tristan Reid, sharply dressed in a tailored suit, strode straight toward the conference room.
At the center of the spacious room sat an oval redwood table, and every seat around it was already filled.
As Tristan entered, everyone quickly stood and greeted, "Good morning, Mr. Reid."
He gave a slight nod as the meeting began.
But honestly, Tristan barely paid attention the whole time. His mind was somewhere else—circling back to Megan's strange behavior earlier.
Was she trying to get him to let his guard down?
Was she planning to run again?
She really would do just about anything to escape.
But no matter where she went, he'd find her.
Even if she ran to the ends of the earth, he'd drag her back himself.
That thought made his dark eyes frost over. His jawline tensed, and both fists clenched on the table.
The room went dead silent. No one dared utter a word, and the one speaking just now froze, lips trembling.
Then suddenly, Tristan stood up and, without a word, walked out of the meeting room with long, purposeful strides.
Cameron scrambled to catch up.
♥
At Dreamscape Manor.
Megan stood in front of the spotless mirror, staring at her own face still dripping from the cold wash.
After days of not eating or drinking, her once-glowing complexion had faded into a sickly pallor. Hair messy, skin dull—she looked like a ghost straight out of a horror flick.
And she had kissed Tristan like this?
She actually chuckled. Would he have nightmares tonight because of it?
She stepped out of the bathroom and leaned against the wall, feeling drained.
Her gaze swept over the bedroom.
Soft pink hues everywhere—her favorite color.
Since Tristan had locked her up here, he had overhauled the entire room. It used to be all black and white, cold and modern—but now? Pink sheets, pink carpet, pink everything.
He'd even filled the place with stuffed toys—all pink too—like he was trying to fill the silence with affection.
Looking at all this, Megan couldn't deny it: Tristan really did spoil her in his own flawed way.
Problem was, the man didn't know how to love.
Well then, she'd teach him.
"Knock, knock!"
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she said, barely audible.
Mrs. Jones walked in, carrying a tray with croissants and cookies. The moment she saw Megan, her eyes widened in alarm.
Setting the tray on the nightstand, she quickly turned back and helped Megan off the floor.
"Oh, Young Madam, please just make up with the young master. Look at you—you've wasted away these last few days." Mrs. Jones gently helped her to the bed and pulled a thin blanket over her.
Then she handed Megan a cookie. "You don't know this, but the young master stopped eating too. He's been working around the clock and hasn't taken a break. His stomach acted up again."
Megan's brows furrowed.
So that's why he looked so pale lately—he'd been punishing himself with her.
This idiot.
A strange ache settled in her chest, and even the butter cookie tasted a bit bitter.
She let out a breathy sigh. "Mrs. Jones, I'm done fighting with Tristan. I want to start over with him."
Even with Megan's words, Mrs. Jones still looked uneasy.
After watching her finish the whole croissant, she folded her hands, looking at her with sincere eyes. "Miss, please... have some mercy on the young master. He really loves you, though maybe his way of showing it's a bit much."
Megan reached out and held Mrs. Jones' wrinkled, calloused hands, offering a soft smile. "I mean it this time. I want to make things right with Tristan and take care of him too."
Mrs. Jones's eyes turned red, her nose stinging a bit. "Good... good. I've watched him grow up. When he was little, he lived with his mom out in the countryside. Didn't come back to the Reid family until he was eight. Poor child."
Megan had only seen the polished, public side of Tristan. She had no clue about the truth behind his background.
She looked at Mrs. Jones with a hint of confusion in her eyes. "Wait, I'm not following—Mrs. Jones, isn't his mom Mrs. Reid?"
Mrs. Jones shook her head, just about to explain when they both heard a sharp knock at the door.