Why her?
Why me?
Why this strange obsession with her that is quickly turning out to be a fixation?
"Saint?" her husky voice reaches me.
"Hmm?"
"Can I ask you a riddle of my own?"
Nope. Never. I’d sworn never to allow another to question me. To trick me again. To trap me into revealing more than I should, to stepping into a situation which could lead to my demise. Perhaps it is the sex… Or the fact that she has crept under my skin, or that the fucking has completely undermined my barriers…but hell… Answering one question wouldn’t matter, right? I mean, what do I have to lose, hmm? Maybe it is the false sense of security that having my wife in my arms seems to envelop me in, which allows me to comply with her wishes. This once.
"What do you want to know?"
She remains silent for so long, I am certain she’s fallen sleep. Her breathing grows steady, her muscles relax, her body twitches as she settles into me.
I tuck her head under my chin, wrap my hand around her waist, my palm coming to rest over her pussy…my favorite place. Yeah, that’s how much of a goner I am. Maybe there is something in this marriage thing, after all? Something like, announcing your intention to the world ensures that you follow through on your word…or…the fact that I had been her first. Her fucking first. I shouldn’t care, but fuck… How could she have been a virgin? Surely, she would have had partners before me? Not that she was inexperienced either. She’d enjoyed the sex, hadn’t shied away from it… So what is she hiding from me?
I wind my fingers across her now-drying hair, and smooth it about her shoulders.
"My question is…"
I pause.
"Would you rather have a baby of your own or would you baby-sit?"
My heartbeat ratchets up, "The fuck kind of question is that?"
"Forget it," she mumbles. "I have no idea what prompted that question anyway. It’s not like it matters. Not like this…thing between us is real or anything. It’s a means for you to get what you want, right?"
"The man who came to see you earlier… He wasn’t your lover?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"So he was…"
"My contact with the Mafia... My handler."
I still my hand.
"The Mafia planted me to play the role of Adam’s wife." She turns in my arms, her lips swollen from my kisses, her cheeks flushed from the hot bath. "But you knew that already."
I tilt my head. Should I reveal how much I know? Has she guessed how much I’ve already uncovered about her past? "Go on." I pull back my arm. She shivers and I pull the blanket up to her ears.
"They…they wanted me to keep an eye on him."
"Adam knew about it?"
She nods, "He had no choice, but to accept that I was reporting on his activities back to the Mafia."
"And you, Gigi? Did you have a choice?"
"It…it isn’t that simple." She licks her lips, brings her hand up to chew on her nails. I weave my fingers with hers, pull it down between us.
"It really is. Tell me what they have on you and let me help you."
"Is saving damsels in distress your specialty?" she asks.
"I’m no fucking white knight, and you know it."
"You’re also not as much of an asshole as you make yourself out to be," she muses.
"Each of us have the stories we tell ourselves, and the masks we put on to face the world," I answer.
"And you, Saint, what’s the persona you’ve bought into?"
I allow my lips to kick up, "I am not the one with the agenda here." She pales, turns away from me. I tug on her hand so she has no choice but to stay facing me. "Don’t push me away, Victoria. This is our chance to come clean so we can make a fresh start of it."
"Is that what you’re offering?"
I hold up her hand with the emerald ring glittering on it. "Isn’t this proof enough?"
"Is that why you gave me your mother’s ring?"
"Not only." I run my thumb across the smooth surface. "It felt right. When my instinct points me in a particular direction, I follow it."
"What does your instinct say about me?" She lowers her chin, peers up at me from under her eyelashes. That green gaze of hers deepens, stormy emotions caught in their depths.
"My head says that I shouldn’t trust you."
The remaining color leaches from her cheeks.
"Let me go." She yanks at her hand, but I don’t release it. I use the leverage to haul her into my chest. "My instinct says to ignore what my logical mind is pointing out to me—that you are dangerous, that for both of our sakes, I should walk away from you, that if I were a betting man, I should cash in my chips and leave, that you are a riddle with more than one answer as a solution. Too bad, when it comes to you…" I search her features, take in the hollows under her eyes, the sharp jut of her cheeks, "I have no choice but to follow my heart, Gigi."
She bites on her lower lip, "I… I am not sure what that means."
"It means…" I cup her chin, "why don’t we trade secrets, hmm? Hell, I’ll even start with answering your question…" The fuck. Am I actually going to do this?
"What’s your answer?" The skin around her eyes creases.
"That I want neither." I set my jaw. "I don’t intend to have children, and hell, I’m definitely not qualified to be a babysitter."
She pales.
"Does that disappoint you?" I search her features.
Her lips turn down, then she tips up her chin. "It’s what I expected. Besides, it was a hypothetical question."
"Good, then you won’t mind if I ask you another."
Her eyebrows knit together, "What?"
"Why did you ask to become my sub? You could have approached me with another proposition. So why this?"
She draws
