Page 13 of Saint

“I’m not keeping you, Beauty. The door isn’t bolted shut, but my warning remains. I wanted to discuss that with you over dinner,” he reminded me, though I noted the way his eyes didn’t connect with mine. I’d been raised that such behavior was a sign of dishonesty, though I refused to believe he was a liar.

I opened a container of food and began spooning what looked to be vegetable stir fry onto my plate. Then I went for the rice at the same time as Saint, and our hands inadvertently brushed one another. The contact of his hand sent a jolt of electricity through me, forcing my gaze to connect with his. Swiftly, he averted his eyes and retracted his hand.

“So?” I asked, refocusing on the topic.

“My people think keeping you alive is a mistake. They think I should have killed you on the beach with your boyfriend.”

“Javier wasn’t my – wait, your people? As in Supreme? Is that your brother?”

Saint chuckled, setting his forkful of food back onto his plate. “My people, as I said. The fact that you know Supreme is my kin is reason enough to support their argument. There’s nothing to insulate you from what you know and the damage you could do with that knowledge. Between my people and Javier’s people, you’re a sitting duck, Beauty.”

The food I’d been pureeing in my mouth went down in an unsatisfying gulp. Unsure if my appetite had withered or if it was simply that damn poor in taste, I pushed my plate away.

“And what is your argument, Saint? What do you propose?”

“You can marry me.”

Stated with a straight face, he left no room for ambiguity.

At first, it was an unimpeded chuckle. Then I was laughing in delirium. Then came the coughing. Violently, I hacked away at air and spit that deposited itself into the wrong windpipe because what?

Marry him?

Despite the lack of food in my mouth, I choked upon hearing those words. Unsure of what I’d expected him to say, marriage was far outside my scope of possible proposals for a solution to our predicament.

There was a slither of something in his appearance before he schooled it to something neutral. The absence of a smirk, shadow of a smile, or even bemusement in his eyes told me he was serious, however.

Concluding my hacking fit, I trained watery eyes on him and forced air into my lungs. Once settled, I proceeded to probe further, requiring more information about the irrationality assaulting my ears. The fact that I had even mildly considered his proposal begged me to question my sanity. I didn’t know this man. In fact, the most I knew of him was that he was a murderer – whether his actions were warranted or not.

“To what end does that serve you?” I asked because I knew there was some benefit to this arrangement for him.

“Protection from the only witness testifying against me should it ever come to that,” he offered, nodding as he noted my significance.

“So, we’d both be protected?” I simplified.

“I guess so.”

“And I’d be married to you in what way?” I searched further for clarification.

“In name. In law. On paper,” he furnished as if he’d already considered everything at length.

His answer slightly diminished my ego, though I didn’t openly express it. “And will I live here?”

“Is it not up to your standards, Victoria?” he asked, settling back in his seat and throwing an arm around the barrel chair. Finally, he met my eyes, evading the depths of them. “You can make changes as you see fit.”

Moving from South Pointe to Paramour City on a whim would raise a few eyebrows. My parents would be concerned… My friends… Disbelief blanketed me that I was even considering any of it.

“Will I have my freedom?”

“You never lacked freedom. Only my protection.” Again, he clarified that I wasn’t being held against my will.

I considered that, toying with my fork and causing it to scrape against my plate. He never restrained me in any way. There was just that moment when he ordered me to leave the beach at gunpoint and that brief moment on the plane… Of course, I was afraid of him up until he’d furnished proof of Javier’s sex trafficking.

…But now, the potency of his presence commanded trust.

He made a compelling argument, but there was still hesitation on my end. Saint’s eyes darted to the subtle movement of my hand scraping the fork against the plate, and his features stiffened.

“Can you not?”