She stays rooted, her chest visibly rising and falling. I near her and the color from her already pale cheeks leeches out.
"You going to faint?" I curl my lips, "Not had your orange juice or whatever it is you need to stave of the shakes?"
She firms her jaw, "Your concern is touching." She pretends to flick a tear from her cheek, "Went straight to my heart."
My lips twitch, "And I wasn't even trying." I come to a halt so close that she has to tilt her head right back to keep her gaze locked with mine. A single strand escapes from the hairdo and floats across her cheek.
"You’ve made your choice, hmm?" I raise a hand.
She flinches.
I twine the hair around my finger, then tuck it back behind her ear.
She swallows, "It seems that way, doesn’t it?" Her voice is firm, "You do you, Saint."
She bites down on her lower lip and my gaze drops there.
"Oh, I plan to do you first, darling wife." I swoop out my arm, wind it around her waist, and haul her to me with such force, she crashes into me—from breasts to waist to hips, she’s plastered to me.
Her gaze widens and fear trembles off of her.
"Don’t disappoint me now, my love. This is what you wanted—an open spectacle in front of the world, with every eye on us. A signal to those you work for that you’ve accomplished what you set out to do."
Her throat moves; she wets her lips and lowers her gaze to my mouth. "Yes…" she whispers. "It’s what I need. I want you to hate me, Saint. Everything I’ve done is so you abhor me—so you forget me when I leave."
"Where are you going?"
"Somewhere you won’t be able to find me," her smile twists. A single tear rolls down her cheek.
"Save the fucking histrionics," I snarl. "I love you, doesn’t mean I am going to let you get away with this."
She stares, then chuckles, and a giggle spills from her. She begins to laugh.
"The fuck is wrong with you?"
She glances past me, pales.
"What is it?" I frown.
"Kiss me."
"What?"
She throws her arms around my neck, raises her chin, presses her lips to mine.
"Don’t—"
She bites on my lips, digs her fingertips into my hair and drags them across my scalp. My groin hardens and my vision tunnels. A groan tears out of me. Fucking fuck, I can’t refuse her, I can’t resist her. Fuck her for rendering me so helpless.
I drag her up to tiptoe, deepen the kiss.
She sucks on my tongue, kisses me back with a fervor that borders on desperation. The hair on my nape rises. My heart twists in my chest.
This entire sequence of events, starting with her walking into that office and asking me for help… Was any of it real? A hollow sensation roils in my stomach. A bead of sweat slides down my back. I tear my mouth from hers. "The fuck is happening?"
She swallows, peers into my eyes.
"Tell me, Gigi, I can help you." I scan her anguished features.
"I can’t let you," she whispers.
"No," my pulse begins to race, "don’t do this."
She cups my cheek. "Promise me, you’ll put this behind you, and move on."
"The fuck you talking about, woman. If you think I am going to let you put yourself in danger, you’ve got another think coming. I won’t allow it, Gigi, I—"
"You ready to leave, Victoria?" a new voice booms.
My heart slams into my chest. I swing around to face a familiar face.
"You?" I snarl, "The fuck you doing here?"
41
Victoria
"Hello, Antonio."
He comes forward, arm outstretched.
Beside me, Saint stiffens, "Get the fuck away from her."
"Afraid it doesn’t work quite that way, old sport." Antonio turns to me, "You going to tell your new husband, or should I?"
I tip up my chin, "I need a second."
"You’ve run out of time." Antonio smiles, white teeth flashing against tanned skin. He prowls toward me.
I shudder, take a step back. Saint’s warmth envelopes me; he wraps an arm around my waist. "You don’t have to do this," he whispers in my ear.
I do. I don’t have a choice. If I don’t do as he says, he’ll kill the friend who’s meant more to me than any family. No, I have to do this, with no help from anyone else.
I yank at Saint’s arm. His muscles flex, "I am not letting you go."
"I was never yours to begin with."
"The fuck?" he explodes.
I elbow him in the waist. He huffs and his grip loosens enough for me to pull away. I turn on him, "I’m leaving you."
"What?" He frowns, scans my features then chuckles, "You’re getting back at me for my asshole attitude, huh?" He lowers his voice, "You know that’s because I can’t help myself. It’s in my blood, I'm a born wanker." He raises his shoulders, "but for you, Gigi... For you, I’d change."
I swallow, then shake my head. "You...won’t." I don’t want you to. "Your uncompromising meanness is too much a part of you. Besides…this entire arrangement between us was a farce."
"Not for me." He takes a step forward, "It may have started off that way, but I developed feelings for you."
"Like I care?"
"Of course, you do," he growls. "You love me, Gigi."
"No," I back away from him.
"Yes. You do. You’re too frightened to admit it." He glares past me. "What does he have on you?"
"Nothing." I retreat another step.
Antonio’s heat assails me. My skin crawls. My fingers jerk. Don’t shrink back; don’t show how afraid you are right now. His massive hand descends on my shoulder. The blood drains from my face.
"Don’t fucking touch her," Saint’s feet don’t seem to touch the ground as he crosses the distance between us.
"Don’t come closer," I swallow.
"Stop right there," Antonio snaps.
Saint’s jaw tics. A vein throbs at his temple. He folds his fingers into fists, and his
