POV: Naomi
I stood frozen in the kitchen staring at the woman in front of me.
Tristan’s mother.
Why didn’t he tell me she was coming?
God, if I had known, I would’ve at least prepared myself mentally.
The woman standing in front of me looked elegant in a cold sort of way. Her blonde hair sat perfectly around her shoulders and not a single wrinkle showed on the expensive cream outfit she wore.
Everything about her screamed money.
Control.
Authority.
And the way she looked at me?
Like I was dirt standing in her kitchen.
Her sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly.
“Are you mute?” she asked coldly. “I asked you a question.”
Her arms folded tightly against her chest.
“Who are you and what exactly are you doing in my son’s house?”
I cleared my throat quickly.
“I’m Naomi,” I answered p
