"What’s so funny?"
“N…nothing.” A giggle bubbles up, I try to swallow it, choke. I press my lips together, can’t stop the cough that breaks free. "Excuse me." I bring my hands up to cover my mouth, end up snorting. Tears roll down my cheeks. I sway. Shit, am I having some kind of a nervous breakdown? Is this a bout of hysteria? Didn’t Freud cure hysteria by orgasms? Is that what I need? I wheeze, draw in a breath, then double over, my shoulders shaking.
"Victoria, what the fuck?"
Saint’s boots appear in my line of sight—those same cowboy boots he’s been wearing since the day I met him. For someone who’s a gazillionaire, his taste in footwear is definitely eccentric.
I resist the urge to shuffle my feet, to squeeze my thighs together. It is a test, all a test. It won’t be as bad as he’s implying it’s going to be. It can’t be. He’s just trying to intimidate me. I can take anything Saint throws at me and rise above it. I can.
"I…I’m sorry," I gasp, then straighten and drag the back of my hand across my face. "It’s just you… I…"Another bout of giggles bubbles up. I hunch my shoulders, try to tamp down on the laughter. More tears spill down my cheeks. "Saint… I…" The words catch in my throat. I try to get them out, but end up snorting again. What the hell is wrong with me? I am making a bloody spectacle of myself in front of this man who I am supposed to seduce. I am supposed to take on an unapproachable persona; as close to my Posh Spice alter ego as possible. Instead, I am having a complete breakdown, Kardashian style.
I laugh so hard that my knees sway. Saint grabs my shoulders, steadies me.
"Look at me."
I shake my head, glance to the right, the left, anywhere else but at him. If I do, I’ll… I’ll lose what little composure I own right now. Correction, I have zero self-possession left. I am drained, empty, alone… Always alone. I had Nina, but even that was taken away from me. This feels so hopeless.
"Saint," my voice seems to come from far away.
"Victoria, the fuck is wrong with you?"
I raise my head, glance up into those blue eyes. Burning bright. Sparks flare in their depths. Hot, he is so hot. Alive. Vital. Everything I am not.
"You’re so beautiful." I raise my hand and he catches my wrist. His fingers dig into my skin. Real. Reassuring. Solid. He’ll protect me. He’ll hurt me. He’ll ground me, show me how to stay in the present. "Saint, please…" My lips grow numb. I can’t feel my arms and legs anymore.
"Don’t you fucking faint on me."
I chuckle, "I never faint."
"Liar."
He's right, of course.
The world tilts and darkness pulls me under.
19
Saint
I pace back and forth in front of the bed… My bed. She is here, in my room, in my suite. Wrapped up in my sheets… My heart begins to thud. I’ve never brought any woman here. Prefer to restrict my liaisons to an impersonal hotel room that is permanently booked for me a few floors below in the hotel.
So why her? Why is she the first woman I’ve brought to this suite?
Maybe it’s because she’s going to be my wife.
Or maybe it is because of how pale she’d gone right before she’d crumpled. Her legs had gone out from under her and she’d collapsed. A dead weight. If I hadn’t been there to catch her, she’d have hurt herself. And I can’t have that. Not while I still have so much to unravel about this woman who’d appeared out of nowhere and entranced me. It’s only because I don’t know much about her…except for what I have uncovered, which has only fueled my fascination with her.
Thankfully she'd woken up enough for me to get some juice and crackers smeared with peanut butter into her. She'd refused everything else, preferring instead to sleep.
When was the last time I had taken care of anyone like this? Never. That’s the answer. I ball my fingers into fists.
"What the hell are you doing to me, Gigi?" I hear my words and realize I spoke them out loud. That’s what she’s reduced me to. I am mumbling to myself as I fret about the health of a woman I don’t give two fucks about. I don’t… I don’t have any emotions for her; no feelings. Nothing that could expose the person I once was…before... the kidnapping, before my mother died. Fuck. I shove my hand into my pocket.
Why did the submissive cross the road?
Because her master asked her to.
My heartbeat slows.
It runs and runs but can never flee… What is it? I snap my fingers. You know the answer, you know it.
Time. That’s it.
Present in the sun, but not in rain.
Doing no harm, and feeling no pain.
What is it?
My breathing evens out.
A shadow.
I had been a shadow of my former self… Until I met her.
I’m not going to let her get away, not until I have resolved the puzzle that she is. I walk closer and stand over her.
Sweat beads her forehead. She thrashes her head from side to side; her chest heaves. Her fingers dig into the sheets at her side. She moans and my heart squeezes. I cup her cheek and her eyes snap open. "No," she wheezes. "Don’t do it."
"Do what?" I frown.
She knocks my hand away, rolls over, then scuttles up against the head board.
"Gigi?"
She swallows. "Don’t…don’t come near me."
"Victoria?"
Her chin wobbles.
I switch on the lamp and light floods the room. She blinks at me. "Who…who are you?"
"Victoria, it’s me, Saint."
She draws in a breath. "Saint?"
I nod, walk around to stand at the foot of the bed.
She stares at me, her eyes wide in her face. Her cheeks are too fucking pale. I stalk around to where she huddles and she freezes. Her muscles seem
