"Oh," Amelie's jaw slackens. Then she snaps her mouth shut, leans forward. "He’ll hurt you, girl."
My shoulders slump. Correction. He’s already wounded me in a way he’ll never know. Just not as much as I am going to hurt him. But I have no choice. I peer up at her. Should I tell her? I take in the assembled women.
"You can trust us with anything. You know that, right?" Meredith’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts.
I glance at her, then look away.
I scan their faces, "Why is it that all of you are so welcoming? You don't even know me."
"Oh, but I do." Summer's lips kick up in a smile. "It wasn't long ago that I was in your position. You see me and Sinclair and you think it was all roses and shit from day one?"
I shuffle my feet, "Guess not. I mean when I saw the two of you at the wedding, the tension between the two of you was palpable. But then you both seemed to have worked things out."
"We did." She chuckles. "It wasn't easy."
"I'm sure."
"I was lucky I had the support of these wonderful women." She looks around at the group. "It's tough doing this on your own. You haven't had it easy, V."
Tell me about it.
"I want to extend our support to you... If you'll take it." She touches my shoulder.
"We’d love to help you." Amelie takes my hand.
"You bet," Isla adds.
"We have a vested interest in this. There can be no better woman than you to deliver Saint his comeuppance," Meredith says.
A lump of emotion blocks my throat. Tell them, tell them everything. Come clean. This could be your last chance.
It’ll put your life in danger.
It could save Saint from ruin.
I open my mouth, but I’m stopped by a familiar voice, "Why, Victoria, what a surprise to see you here."
I turn. My face pales. "You?" I swallow down the bile that laces my throat.
The tall man comes to a stop on the other side of the group. His gaze bores into me, in his eyes a warning.
"Who’re you?" Amelie glowers at him.
He tilts his head, "Hello Tory." He smiles.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. My vision narrows, the band around my chest tightening. This can’t be happening. Not here, not now. Not when I had been so close to finding a way out.
I shake my head, try to speak, but the words die.
"Victoria, you okay?" Summer whispers.
Meredith glances at the man, then back at me. My breathing catches while my hands and legs seem to grow numb. I can’t move, can’t say anything.
Can’t do anything but watch as she rises to her feet. "You must be a friend of Victoria's..."
"Indeed." Antonio's smile widens. "You don’t mind if I borrow her for a second do you?"
17
Look in my face, I am somebody; Look at my back, I am nobody. What am I?
Answer: A mirror
Saint
"Hit me, motherfucker." I swing with my gloved fist. Arpad ducks. I stumble. Straighten, then pivot and rush toward him. He sidesteps me. I rush forward, slamming into the ropes that demarcate the boxing ring. Using the elasticity to brace myself, I turn, shake my head.
"Wanker," I growl.
Arpad snickers. "Speak for yourself."
He slams one gloved fist into the other. "Tired already? Heard you had trouble with your performance with some woman the other day. You losing your touch, motherfucker?"
I bare my lips. First, that slip of a woman had made me lose control completely. Now, this tosser actually thinks he can defeat me? "I’ve never lost a fight with you before."
"Always a first time." He hunches his shoulders, takes his stance. "You going to attack or are you going to yammer all day like a pussy?"
"The fuck?" Anger claws my insides. It’s not at my douchebag of a friend, who’s grinning like the joke’s on me…which it is… I mean, I am not that far up my own arse that I don’t see the signs. Coming undone around a woman while trying to figure out what the hell her game is and drawing a blank every single time? Not advisable. Especially when, clearly, she doesn’t share the same feelings I have for her… Hold on. Hold… The fuck... On… Feelings?
Who the fuck talks about feelings?
There is none of that here. This is pure and simple, a challenge I took on… And purely because she intrigues me. And yeah, she had belonged to the motherfucker who had ruined our lives… And he is dead... But so what? Doesn’t mean I can’t make him pay by owning the woman who had been his wife. Possession is 9/10ths of the law , or what-fucking-ever that means. There. I have admitted it to myself. It’s a chance to get some retribution for what was done to me and the rest of the Seven. That is the only reason I had embarked on this crazy mission. That’s all.
"You okay, Saint?" Arpad frowns.
"The fuck you going on about, dickhead?"
"Just," he rolls his shoulders, "you were mumbling to yourself."
"I wasn’t."
"Yep." He nods, "So, it’s true then."
"Do I even want to know what you are yodeling on about?"
"You tell me."
"Nothing to confess… And PS, the last time I checked, you weren’t the priest among us."
"But I am the best to forgive your sins, considering nothing you say or do could ever shock me." He leans forward on the balls of his feet. "After all, with Jace and Sinclair out of the picture, you and I head up the list of most-wanted felons of the carnal kind."
"When it comes to pleasures of the flesh, I’m ahead of both of you," a new voice chimes in.
I jerk my head as Weston enters the room.
"Too bad you don’t fight," I rub the back of my neck, "else it would have been satisfying taking you both on at the same time."
"You know I can’t get in the ring. Have to save my fingers," he flexes his digits, "for important procedures."
I smirk, "Is that the
