Page 22 of Saint

Now that I really considered it, I never witnessed Javier glued to his phone or any device on the stock application like most day traders were. I never saw him even look at the trending markets. Drug trafficking wasn’t much of a stretch, considering he’d been pegged as a sex trafficker.

He was always dressed lavishly with several chains around his neck. He always drove a nice car. He always had a team of security with him. I didn’t know what constituted a drug dealer, but Javier, as such, tracked.

Saint granted me the time I needed to digest that information, giving his limbs a deep stretch against the couch as he tossed his head back. Instinctively, my eyes flitted to the space between his legs like a woman starved. When Saint sat up, I averted my gaze to the pool.

“My people found out about his dealings in women and children. They made the call to put an end to it,” he shrugged as if we were discussing a solution to fixing a flat tire.

“My mother was in an abusive marriage when my father met her. My dad has this thing against women being mistreated. When he found out about Javier, his reaction was similar to yours on the plane. He couldn’t abide his successor being involved in illicit dealings.”

“Where do you fall into this?” I asked, trying to ignore the bulge between his legs as he sat back in the loungers and thrust his hips forward.

“Just paying my dues to the family. They needed Javier gone, and I was the man to do it. I told you about my military background. I was a sharpshooter. The army contracted the end of plenty of people’s lives at my hands before I retired. Now I just fuck off with marine life.”

“You just fuck off?”

“I’m a marine biologist,” he explained. “It doesn’t feel like work. It feels like I’m having the time of my life, so yeah, I fuck off. And you were disturbing that tortoise from tending to her hatchlings when I saw you on Komodo Island.”

“I thought turtles left their young before they hatched.”

“A tortoise is not the same as a turtle, Beauty.”

He rose to his feet, giving me one last glimpse of the weapon between his legs as it swung back and forth freely in his shorts. I sat there, watching him stalk toward the patio door. Before he made it to his destination, he paused in front of where I sat, stooping low until the heat of his breath brushed my ear.

“Let me know when you’re ready to revisit my question.”

Most of my days spent with Saint consisted of us avoiding one another –or rather, I was avoiding him. My unwavering attraction to the peculiar yet disgustingly fine man who was my husband had me timing when I’d go downstairs to eat so that we barely ran into each other. In turn, we barely spoke. He spent long days away at work, often returning well into the evening. That schedule served me perfectly. As long as I could adhere to the goal I’d set for myself –to make it to the 365th day in his home– I would be okay.

Most of my days were spent sketching out designs. I didn’t mind the isolation of the beach. Freedom to create void of anyone’s input was liberating. Slowly and assuredly, I was coming to love the space I was in.

The presiding issue of my friends inquiring about my well-being was a matter I wasn’t quite ready to tackle. Still, I knew that the longer I put off speaking with my girls, the worse their tongue-lashing would be once I was in their presence. Deciding to engage them one at a time, I typed out a text to Robyn.

I met someone new.

Pressing send, I held my breath with my head submerged in a pillow as I waited for her response. It didn’t come immediately. In fact, it didn’t come at all. Instead, she called me.

“What do you mean you met someone new? Weren’t you just in Indonesia? Are you okay?” Robyn probed, causing me to release a weighty sigh.

“Yes, I’m okay, but I’ve been back.”

“Well, hell, I hoped you were back. It’s been a few weeks. When did you get back?”

“Damn near a day after I arrived, girl. I know you all are probably ripping me to shreds in the group chat. It’s just been busy around me.”

That was a partial lie. I took off the week after I was slated to return from Indonesia because I always needed a vacation from a vacation. Well… I was supposed to take a vacation in Indonesia, but since things hadn’t gone as I had expected, I was making the most of it.

It wasn’t Komodo Island, but Paramour Beach was absolutely stunning and owed me nothing. There was no pink sand, but there was peace. When I wasn’t journaling or sketching, I was planning for all the things I wanted to do around the house to make it feel more like home. Fake marriage or not, I was preoccupied with my new life.

“Tori, are you sure you’re okay? You were supposed to be gone until the end of last week. Did something happen?”

“I just told you what happened, Robyn.”

“Okay. You met someone,” carefully she reiterated my words. “Tell me about this one.”

I shared everything I knew about Saint, save for the fact that he was responsible for killing Javier and that we were married. When I finished, Robyn was quiet. Too quiet.

“You sound happy. I guess that’s good.”

“But?”