Chapter 5
Tristan was still in the same suit from earlier that day - though the tie was now undone and his collar was slightly open. A trace of weariness lingered on his face, but the moment he saw Lorraine inside the elevator, his deep-set eyes filled with concern.
"Can you get out?" His voice echoed low and steady through the empty shaft.
With the help of the maintenance guy, Lorraine managed to scramble out through the pried-open doors, looking a bit disheveled in the process.
"Th - thank you," she stammered, still shaken, nodding to the technician and security guard. Her eyes, however, avoided Tristan entirely.
"What happened?" Tristan's tone dropped a notch as he turned toward the property manager.
The manager wiped the sweat from his brow hurriedly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Seymour. It was an unexpected technical fault."
Before he could explain further, Tristan waved him off impatiently and refocused on Lorraine. "You good to walk?"
She nodded faintly. "Yeah. I think so."
"Come with me," he said briefly before heading toward the emergency staircase.
Lorraine hesitated for a beat, but followed.
After a few flights, Tristan suddenly stopped and spun around. Lorraine, walking with her head down, almost bumped into him.
He looked down at her from above, features cast in shadow by the dim lighting. Then he moved closer, one arm propped against the wall beside her head, caging her in with his presence.
"Top floor's got a good coffee machine. Wanna stop by my office for a drink? Might help you settle your nerves."
A million alarm bells went off in her head. Coffee... at his office? That's practically his territory. She had no idea what to do - but there was really no way to say no.
After a moment of indecision, Lorraine clenched her teeth and followed.
Her second time in the penthouse office.
It was huge, open, and sleek. A large desk sat in the center, one side hosted a full seating area, and further in, a small nook clearly designed for tea or coffee.
"If you're tired, you can lie down in the back room," Tristan said casually, walking toward the desk and tipping his chin in that direction.
Lorraine looked toward the suite beside his office. It was cozy, inviting—so unlike that sleek, minimalist villa where he'd fucked her five times without even saying goodnight.
Jesus. Why was she thinking about that again?
"I'll just sit on the couch out here," she said quickly, taking a few steps back.
"Up to you." Tristan pulled out his chair and immediately immersed himself in the stack of paperwork in front of him.
Lorraine stayed put, nestling into the sofa. At some point, exhaustion from the previous night caught up with her, and she drifted off.
But Tristan? Still at his desk, sleeves rolled up, flipping through paperwork like he didn't spend half the night buried inside her.
Unreal. Did he run on battery packs or pure testosterone?
When she finally woke, the clock read 1:00 a. m.
Tristan stood silently in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, his gaze lost in the glowing city below.
Clearly, he had trained before - broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the veins on his arms were slightly visible where he'd casually rolled up his sleeves.
Lorraine rubbed her sore neck and let out a faint groan. As she sat up, the black blazer she was wearing slid down her shoulders.
"Aren't you going to sleep?" She thought once he finished work, he'd head back to the room to rest.
"The elevator's fixed."
"Oh."
"I'll give you a ride," he said, turning around unhurriedly.
"No need, I'll just grab a cab downstairs." Lorraine picked up her bag.
Tristan grabbed his coat and followed behind her.
His presence made her a bit uneasy - like a clingy shadow she just couldn't shake off.
As she stepped outside, before leaving the parking lot, a horn blared behind her. She moved aside slightly, but the black car kept honking.
She turned her head to look.
"Get in."
His voice was deep and smooth. Paired with those dark, watchful eyes behind rimless glasses, the chill in the tone was hard to miss.
Lorraine gripped her purse a little tighter. After hesitating, she climbed into the car.
At the same time, a BMW with plate number 290 sped out of the underground garage with a sharp turn. A sharp screech echoed as tires skidded. Both of them instinctively looked in that direction, watching the car vanish around the corner.
Lorraine quickly tugged down her skirt after sitting - it kept riding up, nearly to her thighs. She had no idea who picked this outfit; it was all wrong and felt awkward on her. As she subtly shifted her weight, trying to adjust -
Snap.
One of the buttons across her chest popped off.
Tristan glanced over briefly, then quickly looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing reflexively.
Lorraine immediately covered herself, her face flushed a deep red. Sure, people always said she had a good figure, but this was a bit much...
Neither of them said a word. The cramped space only made the silence more uncomfortable.
Tristan tossed his black blazer from the back seat toward her.
Lorraine caught on and slipped it on without a word.
Partway through the ride, he pulled over near a corner store and picked up a dessert called Crème & Chérie.
It had a mild, delicate flavor - and Lorraine recognized the scent right away. Back then, it had been her absolute favorite.
She'd thought it might've been for some woman Tristan knew, but when he got back in the car, he handed it straight to her.
"Here." His tone was flat.
Lorraine blinked, surprised, then took it. "Thanks."
It was a warm bowl of spiced rice pudding, topped with honey and dried fruit - a mix she used to love grabbing after a long day. That shop stayed open until 3AM and still had people lining up.
How... did he even know?
Her apartment in Blossom Residences wasn't far from the company. It was already late, and everything was quiet by the time Tristan parked downstairs. He watched as she headed inside and into the elevator.
Then, tilting his head back slightly, he waited. Less than a minute later, the lights on the 16th floor came on. Only then did he turn on the engine and drive off.
As Lorraine stepped out of the elevator, the first thing she saw was a bundle of yellow tulips lying on the floor, next to a cup of coffee gone completely cold.
The whole thing... kind of felt like a scene out of a funeral.
What a buzzkill. The bit of peace she'd just gotten back vanished in an instant.
Lorraine suddenly remembered an old saying: "Trash belongs in the trash can."
Her brows knitted as she picked up the coffee and chucked it straight into the bin nearby. Then she turned back to the tulips with a tight grip, lifted her black heels and gave them a solid kick toward the trash can.
With a beep, the fingerprint lock clicked open, and she stepped into the little home she'd missed so much.
She shrugged off the oversized coat that didn't really fit her, slipped into her house slippers, and headed into the bathroom.
It took forever, but she finally came out. Feeling light and fresh now - finally.
It was already two o'clock on the dot. Lorraine powered her phone back on. At least the phone was still kicking.
As soon as it lit up, it started going off like crazy - message after message. She didn't even bother checking them. Just hit "mark as read" for all of them. But then...
Dylan: [Tried calling but no answer, texted and got no reply. Was really worried about you. The flowers were freshly picked today, hope you like them.]
All those years together, and yeah, he was still as romantic as ever. Just... way too much of it. That kind of thing sucked people in. And hey, credit where it's due - dude really mastered the art of romancing women for free.
Lorraine had grown up with only her mom, but her mother had some serious values. Thanks to that, she'd always carried herself properly - even when they were practically engaged, they'd barely held hands. Nothing more.
Then there was that day during a Fashion Expo, when she saw Dylan during the venue cleanup. He never liked shopping, which made it even more jarring to catch him in broad daylight all mushy and clingy with Samantha Tucker.
She'd already suspected something was going on, but seeing it with her own eyes? That stung like swallowing a thousand needles.
And yeah, turns out Tristan and Alexander also happened to witness that charming scene.
From then on, things shifted. Later at the celebration, she got too drunk - and now it all felt connected.
Thinking back, Lorraine absentmindedly opened Tristan's Info.
She stared at his profile for a long time. Then her eyes flicked to the suit jacket on the side, and the bowl of sweet dessert next to it. That ridiculous thing he'd said popped into her mind again.
"Wanna try being Mrs. Seymour?"
She blinked. What the hell.
No matter how single she was, that was not the way to go about it!
He was CEO-level, for crying out loud. What would he want with a regular employee like her?
He wasn't running a charity, so how'd he even find her with such deadly accuracy? Was he blind or what?
Lorraine scrolled through her feed - boom. Everyone was posting about how hard she was working, stuck in the office.
Then a familiar profile caught her eye. Tristan liked her post.
Wait... no way... Did he... see it and that's why he came looking for her?
Nope. Nope nope nope. Not happening.
Lorraine quickly put the phone aside and reached for the dessert.
One small try - dang, that's sweet.
