Page 14 of Saint
My gaze flitted to my fork, dropping it from my fingers. “Sorry. I need time to think about this. It isn’t the easiest decision.”
“How much time?”
“Is there an expiration date?” I asked, pressing my luck.
“On your life from forces outside my control? Maybe. On my offer, no,” he responded, raking his fingers through that delicious beard.
Nodding my understanding, I rose to my feet and made off for the bedroom I was shown earlier. My eyes darted around the spiritless home, already imagining what changes I’d implement if I were granted the opportunity to call it my own.
In South Pointe, I owned a small condo that was full of color and life. As a fashion designer, I required the constant muse of my surroundings. Saint’s home could easily become one of my greatest inspirations. It was a beautiful and tranquil space. The only thing it was missing was… me.
Chuckling at that, I shuttered myself in the room. My weight was deposited onto the bed as I plopped down alongside the mass of gifted clothing. My lips parted, freeing a sigh as I replayed the events of the past forty-eight hours.
Married.
“In name, in law. On paper…”
Not in love as I’d always envisioned it. Not even in friendship. It was all beginning to sound more nightmarish by the second. Like most women my age, I’d been conditioned to aspire to marriage as if the absence of such a title diminished my significance. Now, I was being proffered the title of “Misses” as if it were nothing.
Because our marriage would be nothing.
Thoughts formed without my consent of a loveless, sexless marriage to a gorgeous man. It didn’t align with anything I’d ever desired… Dissolving into the bed, I freed a sigh. My regained composure berated me for my line of thinking. I should not have been thinking about it at all.
I should be running opposite the massive beach castle. I should be pinching myself to awaken from a dream that was outwitting my common sense.
Marry him.
Saint…
Exceedingly gentle on the eyes.
Perpetually tender in spirit.
A monster when needed.
It wasn’t the worst I could manage…
My conflicted thoughts refused to settle. I needed more information surrounding this… marriage mess.
Saint
The dossier I’d requested on Victoria came back to me via encrypted email while we were still in the air. That was when my plan of action began to form. Eight months to a year was my mentally proposed length of time we could pretend to be lovers. It would ensure ample time for Javier’s murder to blow over. I’d expected her reluctance. Anyone with good sense would be hesitant about marrying a man they’d only just met, much less witnessed commit a murder. She was well within her rights to request time to consider it.
But women like Victoria weren’t accustomed to lacking motion. They were all about carpe diem, seizing the day, and in order to do that, they needed to move unreservedly. Soon, she’d want her freedom to do that. Freeing her from my sight unprotected paralleled uncouth behavior. My concern for her was unrelenting and confusing.
Once my father caught wind of me and Supreme’s predicament on Komodo Island – thanks to Supreme’s snitching ass – I received endless threats about “handling it,” meaning handling her, meaning killing Victoria. That option was lost on me the moment I laid eyes on her. The only handling I could see myself doing with her included nudity and the inches of my dick.
Freeing myself from those thoughts, I stared blankly at the dossier. If I didn’t handle it, someone else would be hired out to do so. Victoria was a loose end at a time when such slip-ups could put me and everyone I cared for in jail.
Marriage was reserved for love or political gain if you were in a particular position. This marriage would be neither. This was all self-preservation.
Love evaded me my entire existence. As such, I never expected to be placed in a husband position. I knew what loving someone felt like. I loved my family. They showed me compassion and tenderness despite the world telling me I was undeserving of it. I knew what lust felt like. I’d had my share of willing women. I knew what craving the feel, the scent, and the sound of a woman between the sheets felt like… but being in love? That fluttery shit that made people lose all sense? That invisible sphere two souls created that made them daft to reason outside of themselves? That pervasive desire to grow and share space with another person? I’d never had the fortune to experience that.
But there was something there with this woman. Something about Victoria Jacob sparked something in me, enough for me to throw caution to the ethers and put my family at risk at a time when they were transitioning away from crime.
And now I was asking her to do the same. Throw caution out of the window. It seemed like a fair trade. Protection for protection seemed like a damned good mutually beneficial arrangement. Maybe she needed more convincing.
Packing away the food, I cleared the dining table, setting it back to the pristine way I’d met it. Once assured everything was in perfect order, I then jogged upstairs to the bedroom, where I knew I’d find the beauty that left me void of sense. With my hand gripping the knob to her room, I almost barraged through the door without knocking. The knob was halfway turned before I realized my mistake. That wasn’t appropriate behavior. Internally, I scolded myself for the slip-up. Freeing the knob, I raised my hand to knock, but the door flew open before I could make contact with it.