We’re on lockdown. Someone fired at me with a sniper rifle.
She settled her palm on her desk. It stared back at her, unmoved.
It was official, then. Tristan didn’t care, not even enough to ask if she was all right.
Instead of dwelling, she turned back to her desktop and pulled up her data. She wanted to find the Baron’s identity before she left for the ball. She needed to have the situation well in hand before her mother announced her new position.
She’d only made a few hours’ progress before a knock sounded upon the door. “Come in,” she said, expecting to see Alex.
Instead, she saw Tristan. He slipped inside her bedroom, his face pale. “What do you mean someone fired at you?” he hissed.
“My would-be assassin fired a few bullets at my head, but they hit the security office.” She noted his long brown coat. “How in the world did you get in here?”
“I have my ways.” His gaze traveled across her face, a miserable expression in his eyes. “Your bike is parked in front of that restaurant a block from the southern gate. Simone’s, is it?”
Lila nodded. “Did Shirley find anything new?”
“Not much. Your brakes were rigged to blow from afar, some complicated mess that likely received a signal from a palm. You never should have been able to slow your bike. You could have died.” He pulled a baggie with cords from his coat pocket. “Shirley wore gloves. You should have these tested for prints.”
“The assassin wore gloves, too.”
“You already found them?”
“No, I just saw the security footage. My people are doing an investigation. This will help, though.” She dropped the cords onto her desk.
Tristan peered at her computer, noting a familiar sheen to the data. “You hacked Liberté without us?”
Lila turned off her monitor. “What did you expect me to do, Tristan? I have a case to solve, and you made it clear you wanted nothing more to do with me.”
Tristan sat down on the edge of her bed. The mattress creaked. “That’s not what I said.”
“You told me to go.”
“I said a lot of things. That’s the only thing you heard.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t go there tonight, Lila.”
“Go where?”
“You know where. Don’t spend the night with one of those men.”
“One of those senators,” she corrected. “I don’t want to have this argument again. We’ll only yell at one another.”
“Maybe we need to yell.”
“To what end?”
He looked up and cleared his throat. “You want a child? Fine. I’ll provide you with an heir if that’s what you want. You wouldn’t—”
“Do you even want a child?”
“Do you?” Tristan rubbed his scalp. “I need you. You need a child. Why are you making this more complicated than—”
“It’s not about a baby, Tristan.”
“Then what is it about? What do they have that you need? What do they have that someone else couldn’t—”
“That you couldn’t?”
“I would rather have seen you with Dixon for the rest of my life than to know you spent one night with one of those highborn—”