Page 31 of Fallen Saint
“Tonight, I have some very important guests coming to visit. I will have Sara help you get ready.”
I don’t appear to have a choice in the matter. But thinking of my escape behind me, I nod. The sooner I figure out the layout of this place, the better, and I can’t do that locked in my room.
“By the way, I’m sorry I had to drug you. I didn’t want you to feel any pain. A gunshot wound can be excruciating,” he says as though he did me a favor.
“Who took out the bullet?” I ask, wishing I could remember.
Alek pushes off the counter. “Saint. He’s a godsend,” he replies, his response filled with complete innuendo. “I couldn’t have chosen a better man.”
I gnaw the inside of my cheek to stop myself from hurling abuse. He is the only one who has a choice while we are forced to bend to his will.
“Will Zoey be there tonight?” I need to know where my enemies are at all times because that’s the only way I will be able to escape.
Alek runs the tips of his fingers over the styled side of his groomed hair. Not one lock is out of place, which has me guessing this might be a mannerism of his indicating something has pissed him off. “No, she won’t. She must learn her place. She is no longer my number one girl.”
When he floats toward me, I hold my breath. He sweeps a piece of hair behind my ear. “Because who is?”
He’s not a tall man, but I still feel dwarfed in his presence, especially when he looks at me with that hunger in his eyes. He waits for my reply, but we both know there is only one answer.
“I am.” Bile rises as I confess something which makes me physically ill.
He inhales happily, but it seems my skills as an actress suck.
Leaning forward, he places his lips against the shell of my ear. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I try to steady my breathing. “One day, you’ll really mean that.”
I brace myself for a punishment, but I don’t get it. Instead, Alek leaves me standing in the kitchen with my heart in my throat as he exits.
“I’m sorry for hitting you.”
Sara pauses from applying shadow to my upper eyelid. “It’s okay.”
I figure I owe her an apology seeing as she’s doted on me all day. Of course, this isn’t either of our choices because Alek ordered her to help me get ready. As she pulled out lavish dress after lavish dress while she stood in some ratty maid’s outfit, I couldn’t help but feel like one of the wicked stepsisters fromCinderella.
I picked a green A-line dress with long sleeves and an even longer hemline. The top is fitted, but the skirt flares out slightly past my waist. I wanted to cover as much of my body as possible. When Sara walked me into a closet that technically could be a room of its own, I gaped around at all the shoes, clothes, and accessories on the shelves.
Sara said Alek liked heels, so she picked out a pair of pointy black pumps. When she asked what jewelery I wanted to wear, I clasped the cross at my neck. She didn’t question it but decided my outfit wasn’t complete without pearl drop earrings.
I showered, dressed, and now, I am getting primped within an inch of my life. Sara decided my hair down would complement the dress, so she curled and styled it to fall around my shoulders. Once she was happy with her handiwork, she began to paint my face to hide the real me.
The layers of foundation she applied indicated I needed the excess to make me look human. We remained quiet, both of us lost to this foreign world.
“I’m almost done,” she says, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Take your time. I’m in no hurry.” I have no idea what awaits me out there, but I’m guessing it can’t be good.
Where is Saint? And why hasn’t he come to see me? I need to speak with him to discuss what happens now, but getting two seconds alone in this place seems impossible.
“I know you’re nervous about tonight,” Sara says, uncapping a tube of mascara and coating my lashes. “Just do what you’re told. It will be less painful that way.”
I know she’s trying to be nice, but I’m not nervous. I’m angry. “One thing you’ll come to learn about me, Sara, is that I don’t do what I’m told very often.”
Her lips twitch. “I can see that.”
It’s nice to share a lighthearted moment because we don’t experience them often.
When she caps the mascara and leans back to admire her creation, I wonder what she sees. “You look beautiful.”
When she shifts and allows me to look in the mirror, I see she’s done a great job. My skin looks flawless and sculpted, thanks to her contouring skills. My blue eyes pop because of the gold shimmer eyeshadow, the brown liner, and mascara she’s applied.