Page 15 of Fallen Saint
“What’s going on?” Saint’s voice booms across the room, reminding me that regardless of how badly I want to murder Zoey, she’s still his sister. She may be a mega bitch, but that will never change who she is to Saint.
And judging by the winner’s grin she’s sporting, she knows it.
“This bitch is useless,” she says with a condescending chuckle. “She can’t even do a simple thing like make breakfast.”
When I turn slowly to lock eyes with Saint, he discovers my reddening cheek. He inhales deeply through his nose, like someone would when asking God to give them strength.
I don’t know how he’ll respond since we’re all on show. I want nothing more than to go to him, but I can’t, so I stand here like a trained poodle and not say a word. But Saint, it seems, has enough words for us both, and that has me nodding in gratitude even though his sentence is a double-edged sword.
“She isn’t your slave.”
“No, but she’s Alek’s,” Zoey counters, folding her arms in challenge. But she doesn’t stand a chance against her brother.
“Therefore, only Alek has the right to command her.”
Technically, no onehas the right, but I understand what he’s doing.
Zoey’s eyes narrow, and her lips twist into a bitter scowl, but she doesn’t argue. It seems she’s submissive to Alekandher brother.
“Go wait for him,” Saint commands, which I can only imagine eats him up inside. He’s giving her orders like a dog to save her punishment. She’s chosen this life, and this is the only way Saint can guarantee she stays safe.
She doesn’t argue but pushes past me forcibly, ensuring I lose my balance. I grip onto the counter to stop myself from face planting. She floats through the room and does what Saint said—she waits on her knees by the golden chair at the head of the table, which looks like a throne, for her master.
I turn my back, sickened.
Although the last thing I want to do is make her breakfast, I commence poaching the eggs and frying the bacon because I need something to do with my shaky hands. As I’m brewing the coffee, I can feel someone watching me closely.
No guessing who.
“Something smells good.”
A shiver passes over me; an automatic response, it seems, to whenever Aleksei enters a room. However, I continue preparing breakfast because it allows me to keep my back turned.
“Good girl,” Aleksei says to who I presume is a kneeling Zoey. She hums in response. I can imagine him patting her head. “Come sit.”
This is so fucked up, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. I desperately need to speak with Saint in private, but these walls have ears, and I have to be careful.
Once I’ve prepared Aleksei’s breakfast, I hunt for crockery. When I open a drawer and find it filled with plastic forks and knives, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It appears Aleksei has thought of everything.
Gathering everything I need and serving up two plates of food, I take a deep breath and turn around. Saint stands off to the left of Aleksei with his eyes forward in what I assume is his usual post. He is Aleksei’s hitman, after all.
Shaking such thoughts from my mind, I make my way over to the table and place Aleksei’s breakfast in front of him, ensuring I don’t stand too close. I do the same with Zoey sitting to his right. The rest of the men remain standing. It appears their boss eats first without them encroaching on his space.
It’s amazing that he commands this much power, and I wonder if any of them are here against their will too. What has he promised for them to exhibit such loyalty? Or are they just fearful for their lives?
I go back into the kitchen to pour the coffee.
When I make my way back over to the table and place the mug in front of Aleksei, he reaches out and gently grasps my wrist. I flinch, as I’m still sore from being handcuffed, but I don’t struggle. What would be the point?
He strokes his thumb over my skin, peering up at me. “Thank you for breakfast. It smells wonderful.”
I blink once, taken aback by his manners. But I quickly recover as it’s clear he’s waiting for my reply.
“It’s my pleasure. I hope you enjoy it.” I swallow down my lie because it feels like acid against my tongue.
I chance a quick glance at Saint and find his jaw clenched tight. He may appear docile, but I know better. In order to convince Aleksei that Saint is the key to curbing my behavior, I need to behave.
Aleksei nods once. He’s brushed back his damp hair after taking a shower, and the slight graying at his temples only adds to the refined look. He doesn’t look like a monster, but I suppose those are the most dangerous types.