Page 38 of Lethal Saint

I blinked, dropping my hand.

Those words settled in, completely insane. “You did what…?”

He really did just say that, didn’t he? He bought the café. A bitter laugh curled around my tongue. Of course he did. He wanted to go back and flirt with the pretty barista again. My scowl deepened.

“You’ve never been to a café, and you love their brownies. Of course I bought it for you.”

I shook my head, scoffing. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re my wife,” he said through the door, his tone…frustrated? Desperate? “And you were happy—really, truly happy—for a few moments. It’s my job to make sure you’re happy every damn moment of your life, so of course I bought it for you. It’s yours. You can go whenever you want.”

I swallowed, my rage faltering even if jealousy burned the pit of my stomach. “You really did that?”

“I really did. It’s yours.”

“Oh.”

My shoulders dropped. No one had ever done anything like that for me. Not the money, or buying ridiculous gifts—anyone rich could do that. But…no one saw me. No one paid attention to what I liked or noticed what I hated.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong now?” he asked tentatively. Gentle, like he’d been since we met.

I sighed. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Vasya.”

I bit my lip, eyeing the door, then blurted out, “What about the barista?”

“She’s the owner; she agreed to sell me the café.”

“No,” I huffed, brushing my fingers over the handle of my gun through my wedding dress. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Tell me.”

“Isn’t that why you bought the café? So you can go back and flirt with her?”

Silence rang—and rang.

My heart pounded, some of my adrenaline clearing to let panic in. Oh, god, the things I’d said. He must be furious. Murderous. If I got myself killed, it was all my fault for not being careful.

“I’m sorry,” I ventured. “That was a stupid thing to say.”

He didn’t say anything. Goosebumps rushed down my arms. My breath caught, my muscles tensing, one by one, until I was braced. Ready for pain. It didn’t matter that he’d never hurt me, that I knew, deep down, he was different from my dad. The instinct was there and would not be ignored.

I froze completely when footsteps sounded from the bedroom, loud enough on the carpet that he must be stomping. Furious. I backed up against the wall beside the toilet, cold all over, and jumped with a shriek when a loud, blaring sound filled the bathroom. It filled my skull until it drove out all other noise.

I threw my hands over my ears, my eyes wide and fear closing off my air. I should drop my hands, stand still, non-threatening, but it was so loud and even deep-ingrained instinct could be overpowered by the deafening noise of—a drill?

My mouth popped open, shock overriding my senses. Was he unscrewing the hinges? Washecompletely unhinged? Oh god, he must be livid. A tremble began in my hands and swept all the way down my legs, weakening my knees. I forgot to breathe when the sound cut out abruptly and—Damien ripped the door off its hinges, leaving it hanging awkwardly on the lock.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, using the last of my air as he stepped over the slanted door, strode across the tiled floor and—

Dropped to his knees in front of me.

A vicious quake made my hands unsteady, made my arms shake and knees knock together. My teeth would chatter soon; I should clench my teeth. The sound always incensed my dad’s rage until he—

Damien bowed his head and said, “I spent half the conversation with that woman negotiating for the sale of the café and the other half talking about my wife. You. I would never—never—flirt with another woman when my entire focus is fixed on you. I promise you that, my queen. I’m loyal to you, faithful to you.”

My head spun when he said, “You shine so brightly that I can’t see anyone else, and I don’t want to.”

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