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They usually just stood silently in the background and looked menacing. He and Chance had been chatting more and had even bonded a bit because of their workouts and the fact that they were compatriots.
Part of Trystan wanted to put Chance in his place. Another—larger—part found that he didn’t mind the honesty, even though it made him want to punch the guy in the nose. He briefly fantasized about what that would feel like, imagining using the man’s own moves against him. Trystan sighed, as he acknowledged that Chance could likely paint the floor with his face if he chose to. Not that he would. Even more humiliating was the knowledge that Chance would probably simply sidestep any attempt from him and watch him fall on his arse.
“It’s clear that Iris and I aren’t able to simply walk out of our homes to meet somewhere for coffee,” Trystan explained with—what he felt was—the patience of a saint. “I need you or one of your colleagues to arrange a meeting with her in a neutral spot, free from prying eyes and ears.”
“Again,” Chance said, with equally exaggerated patience. “This is not something we would be able to do if Iris is not receptive to the idea. And she’s not likely to be.”
“How the hell would you know that until she’s asked?” Trystan snapped out the question.
Chance took an infuriatingly slow sip from his coffee before replying, “She was just kicked out of her flat. I’m afraid, she’s not going to be feeling particularly charitable toward you… sir.”
Trystan’s stomach dropped to the soles of his feet at the snippet of information. Oh God, this was going to be so much harder than he’d expected. He was desperate to have a conversation with Iris. He’d been calling her nonstop for days, and had been hitting a brick wall. His WhatsApp messages remained unseen and unread, a reliable indicator that she’d blocked his number. Her social media accounts had all been disabled.
The time for neutral meetings and rational discussions had passed. He’d allowed this to go on for longer than it should have. He should have reached out four days ago, after reading that article again. But he’d been a fucking coward. He’d wanted to have all his ducks in a row before he spoke to her. Now this news.
“Where is she staying?” Trystan asked, his voice shaky and low. “Is she with her parents? I need you to take me there, right now.”
“What?” For the first time Chance’s slightly bored, smug demeanor slipped and he went from a relaxed slouch to upright in a second. “Take you where?”
“To Iris. At her parents’ home.”
“That’s not a good idea, sir. We won’t be able to control the environment, not with such short notice.”
“It’s better if I don’t show up with a fucking entire army of bodyguards?—”
“Close-protection officers,” Chance corrected.
“Whatever the fuck! You know what I mean. We can call Quinny, take his car. It’s a gray, ten-year-old Toyota. The most ordinary, nondescript car on the planet. It won’t draw attention.”
“But you will. You forget you’re one of the most instantly recognizable people in the world.”
“People see what they expect to see,” Trystan said, warming to the mad idea. “And nobody expects me to show up to a house in Southfields at random-’o-clock on a Tuesday evening. I’ll wear a hoodie, a baseball cap, something. I can pretend to be the pizza guy. Work with me here, Chance. I need to see her.”
“No,” Chance said, his voice adamant, his expression no-nonsense. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You forget that while I know that it’s in my best interests to follow your instruction for my own safety, I don’t actually have to do so. If I choose to walk out of here right now, you have no recourse but to follow me out that door.”
Chance’s lips tightened and he glared at Trystan.
“I expect this immature diva shit from the newly famous pop boys and girls, not from a seasoned professional who should know better.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Chance, but I’m out of options here. I have to speak with her. Before my interview on Thursday.”
“Fine. I’ll make a few calls and try to facilitate that meeting between you.”
But that wasn’t good enough for Trystan, not anymore. Not after what he’d learned about Iris being thrown out of her flat. He knew how much she’d enjoyed living there, how she’d prized the relationships with her flatmates. She must have been utterly devastated when they’d kicked her out.
“No. I’m going now. The longer I leave this, the worse it’ll be.”
“Can’t really imagine how much worse it could get,” Chance muttered, and Trystan tried to keep his panic at bay at the veracity in the man’s words. It definitely couldn’t get much worse. Iris wouldn’t want to see him or have anything to do with him. But he had to try.
“I’ll call Quinny for his car and get changed. Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”
Chance heaved a long-suffering sigh and the sound gave Trystan pause. “That won’t be necessary. She’s not staying with her parents. I told you before, she didn’t want to dump all of this shit right on their doorstep. She was desperate and felt like she had nowhere else to turn, so she took me up on the offer I made the day you kicked her out of your car. She moved into my spare room two days ago.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Iris is living with you?” Trystan asked, completely blindsided by Chance’s statement.
