Saint draws abreast with Weston, "What are the two of you talking about?"
"The Doctor was just leaving," I look pointedly at Weston.
He turns to go.
"You should join him," I turn my head to the side, study the view from the window—a road, a building across the street. Rain patters down the window pane. Bleak. Miserable. Just like my life is going to be without him. Shit. Stop it. This is the right thing to do...for him…for me…for the child I’m carrying. Saint isn't ready to have children and I'd never force that on him.
His father had called him an intrusion... A mistake. And mine? Well, mine had checked out, leaving us to cope on our own. The track record for fathers being present and engaged in both of our lives is not reassuring, to say the least. I bite the inside of my cheek. I won't let my child go through the same experience. It would be better for my child to never know a father, than to be rejected by one. If that means giving up the man who's come to mean so much to me, then so be it.
"Gigi."
I bite my lips. "Don’t call me that, please."
He hesitates, then lowers himself into the chair. "How are you?" he asks.
"I’ll be better once you’re gone."
He makes a low noise in his throat, "If anything had happened to you—"
"I’m fine."
"He shot you."
"Antonio didn't intend to hurt me."
"Except he did," his voice cracks.
I turn to face him, and flinch. His hair is mussed, his face unshaven. Redness rims his eyes... And his gaze. Oh my God! His blue gaze burns into me with an intensity that makes my heart lurch. "Saint," I say his name before I can stop myself.
"I have my guys on him. He’s revealed himself and I am not letting him go until I take him and everyone associated with him down.
"You can’t," I bite the inside of my cheek.
"What? Why not?"
"If you do, he’ll kill my best friend. The deal was for me to win your trust, to find the evidence you had on the Mafia and return it, in exchange for—"
"Your friend’s life?" He snarls. "And what about your life, Gigi, your safety is my priority. You, are my priority. Nothing is more important than you. And that fucker dare pull out a fucking gun and threaten you, in front of me?" His nostrils flare. His biceps bulge, his shoulders seem to grow in size. Hell, Saint in full blown protective alpha mode is... bloody hot. I am going to miss that... so bloody much.
"I won't let him get away with it." He glares at me.
"I hadn’t expected him to pull that stunt, Saint. Honestly. If I’d known he was going to hijack your event and ruin your reputation…"
"Fuck that," he swears.
"But…but he made you look like a loser." I protest.
"You’re still here, aren’t you?" He scowls.
"I can’t stay, Saint."
His jaw tics, "If you think I am going to let you walk, with that man loose out there..."
"If he’d wanted to kill me, he’d already have done it. He wanted to cause a diversion to escape. He won’t reveal himself again. His face is too well known. Besides, I am of no use to him anymore."
He frowns, "So stay with me. I thought I was in control, but all along, it was you who was leading me on. You were always one step ahead, Gigi—"
"Victoria," I correct him.
"Fuck that," he growls. He widens his stance, and damn him, but my gaze drops right to the tented fabric between his legs. Surely not. He can’t be aroused. Is that Saint’s resting position? It has to be. That’s how big, how thick… How bloody massive his larger-than-average dick is. I’d felt it inside of me, curled my fingers around it and squeezed him, massaged him and made him come, had taken him down my throat and swallowed his cum, had shattered all over his fingers, ridden his dick as he’d brought me to climax. My thighs clench. My stomach flutters, I press my hand to my belly.
"What’s wrong?" He frowns.
"Nothing." I bite the inside of my cheek.
"Stop lying."
"Fine," I glower at him. "You want to hear why I don’t want anything to do with you? Why I know there’s no future for us?"
"Tell me," he leans forward, his fists balled between his knees. "Tell me why you want to leave me."
I stare into his face and my heart begins to pump hard enough to pound in my throat. My palms begin to sweat. Do it; tell him. I brace my shoulders, "I don't want you."
44
Saint
"What?" I blink.
"I hate what you do to me."
"You don't." I scan her features.
"I loathe that we can't be honest with each other." She meets my gaze unblinking, "I despise how you bring out the part of me that I have hidden from for so long."
She pulls off my ring from her finger; holds it up. The stone glistens in her palm. I stare at it, my heart pounding erratically.
"Take the ring, Saint."
I hold out my hand and she drops the piece of jewelry into it.
"What gets broken without being held?" I close my fingers around it.
She blinks, chews on her lower lip, "Is it…a promise?"
My lips twist.
Her face pales further.
"Imagine you are in a dark room…" I peer into her face, "How do you get out?"
She curls her fingers at her sides, "Stop imagining," she whispers.
"When my mother asked me the same questions, I didn’t have an answer for her. For a long time I was convinced that it's why she left me."
"Oh, Saint," her features twist. She half sits up, reaches for me.
I pull away, "I don’t want your pity."
She half smiles, "Pity is the last thing on my mind where you are concerned."
I straighten.
She lowers her brows, "How old were you when she left?"
"Thirteen." I shuffle my feet. "A year after the incident."
"When you and the Seven were kidnapped?"
I nod.
