hands.
A veil of red descended over Tristan’s vision, and he lunged for the other man, shoving him hard enough that he stumbled back, hitting the wall.
“Tristan! What are you doing? Stop it!” Kat turned her back on Tristan to speak to the other man. “Are you okay, Mark?”
Mark blinked, apparently stunned, then shook his head, straightened, and raised his fists.
“You want to fight? I’d be happy to oblige, you bleeding sod,” he growled.
“Bring it on, I was a boxing champ during university.” Tristan grabbed Kat. She didn’t fight him when he moved her behind him. Then he lifted his fists.
“Sounds good to me.” Mark stepped closer and the pair of them squared off.
Kat darted out and wedged herself between them, a hand on each of their chests, forcing them back.
“Cut it out! Both of you!” she snapped.
“Kat, who is he?” Tristan demanded, breathing hard. Blood roared in his ears as he fought to calm down. There was no way she was seeing this man, not after what they’d shared the night before. The thought of her with someone else after he’d exposed his soul to her made him sick to his stomach. He was not about to lose her to this fool, whoever he was.
“Mark is a friend.” Her hand on his chest rubbed him slightly. He doubted she was even aware that she was doing it. It soothed him, but only just.
“I’ve been waiting here for two hours.” Tristan’s voice had a cold edge to it, which reminded him of his father. He kept his eyes on Mark.
The man still had his fists half-raised. “I can take him, Kat, just give me the go-ahead.”
Kat made a small growl. “No! No more fighting. Mark, go to Lacy’s room. I’ll be fine. Tristan and I have to talk.”
Mark hesitated. “Are you sure? I’d be happy to summon the porter and have him throw this sod out.”
“You’ll behave, won’t you?” Kat asked Tristan, but it sounded more like a command.
He frowned at her, not liking that she was giving him orders, but for her, he’d agree. Her brows were drawn together and her lips pursed in a tight line. He wanted her smiling, or laughing breathlessly, not this anxious, pale-faced woman who stared at him now. Something about seeing her distressed made his pulse race and his muscles tense.
“I’ll behave,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.
“Okay.” Kat exhaled, her shoulders dropping. She gave a gentle shove to Mark’s chest. “Go to Lacy.”
Mark finally walked down the hall, knocked on the door there, and the blonde woman re-appeared in the doorway. So that was Lacy?
Lacy’s eyes widened when she saw Tristan and Kat.
“Kat, are you okay?” Even though the question was directed at Kat, Lacy’s eyes settled on him, and a look he knew all too well was shot his way. One that said, “You hurt my friend, I’ll castrate you.” At any other time it would have delighted him to know that Kat had such loyal and protective friends, but not when said friends were attempting to keep him away from his woman.
Mark leaned in to Lacy, whispering something in her ear as his hands settled on her waist. Tristan watched him, strangely jealous of their open intimacy. He wanted to hold Kat the same way, have that same familiarity and right to touch her like a man in a relationship could.
Kat unlocked her door and turned to face him. Distrust and anger shadowed her lovely eyes.
Seeing that made him want to punch a wall. Hard.
He gathered the bag of cold French cuisine from the floor and followed her inside, closing the door with one foot. For a moment he struggled, words unable to form as he fought the urge to drag her into his arms and kiss all protests off her lips.
When her gaze dropped to the bag of food in his arms, he almost sighed in relief. Dinner , that was a word he could get out. Much safer than to admit his pride was wounded at her standing him up. Well, fucking hell, it was more than just his hurt pride, but he wouldn’t dare admit that particular weakness.
“Kat, I told you I’d be here for dinner tonight.”
She blew out a breath and faced him. A sinking feeling swept through him as he saw a decisive look carved into her delicate features.
“Tristan, we can’t do this. I’m sorry,” she said, maintaining a distance between them.
It seemed as if an ocean separated them. If he could just